"Can it, you nobs!" I hissed. "If you blow our cover, I'll blow off your heads! Idiots…" More choice words seethed through my teeth as I led the rest of the Fearsome Five through the side entrance. A string of drugged guards trailed behind us, and I made sure Megavolt cut every alarm wire in half before we moved on toward the correct wing.
It would have been so much more entertaining to crash the fancy party and hold the social elite for ransom, but I had a goal that couldn't be compromised. There would be time for fun later…
"Right through there. You nobs cover me. I'll get the rod."
While my less-than-skillful lackeys fanned out across the room, their eyes bulging greedily at the ancient treasures worth millions just gathering dust behind the displays, I made a beeline for our quarry. It was solid gold, and flecked with rubies, emeralds, sapphires, diamonds, every type of valuable gem that made my mouth water. Those Romans didn't mess around.
I had watched Megavolt disarm the silent alarm, but I was certain that considering how priceless an artifact it was, there would be more to its security. Using extreme caution, I eyed the rod and its display from every angle. It seemed simple enough; nothing I couldn't handle.
It was with practiced precision that I pulled a glasscutter from my jacket and stretched it toward the transparent casing that barred me from my prize. Each inch brought me one step closer to my goal, one step closer to ruling St. Canard, one step closer to ending my father's pathetic reign.
"Negaduck."
The voice shattered my thoughts and caused me to jerk, sending the glasscutter on a tangent. I felt the feathers on my neck bristle instinctively, and I bared my teeth as I whirled around, expecting my old man.
"Well," I growled with a deep chuckle. "Look who's come out to play…"
"Where is she?" he asked me in a dark snarl.
"Who??" I snapped. He ignored my question.
"Where's Steelbeak??" The geezer was agitated now, and barreling toward me as best he could with a limp in his left leg.
In the shadows, his silhouette evidenced the lean limbs of a lifetime of excitement, danger, and regrets. His shape easily gave him the visage of the old crime lord, but as soon as he stepped forward, I knew. And I ground my teeth together. He wasn't my worthless father but his counterpart, the private investigator Jacob Mallard, with whom I'd had a few unmemorable run-ins.
Instantly I was raving mad. "What?! That prissy prick is here? Probably sent by 'dear old dad' to steal the staff before me. Well it's mine, ya got that? I got here first, and I'm going to use it to power the machine before him!!" I could feel the blood in my veins boiling as my feathers turned bright red underneath my mask. I didn't have time for this bullshit. A slow grin quickly spread across my face as I calmed. "And you, old man…you're our ticket outta here…"
Glass exploded over him and me as my fist plunged through the cracked display. I grabbed the rod and called to my men. "Get'im, boys!"
The old man was so hell-bent on Steelbeak that he hadn't realized the rest of the Fearsome Five had steadily been closing in on him. The expression on his face was priceless; I wish I'd had a camera. It would have made a much more fitting portrait than that stupid one hanging in The Old Haunt.
Quackerjack was the first to pounce. "It's plaaaaaytime!"
That got more and more annoying the more he said it, but I was too busy to be bothered. While they had the so-called detective occupied, I was about to slip away unnoticed…until an idea hit me.
The joker batted the widely known alcoholic around like a paddleball, then passed off the fun to Bushroot. Jacob sucker punched the plant-duck with an uppercut, and a couple dozen roots shot up through the museum floor to wrap around his limbs in retaliation. Unable to move, all the old bird could do was stand there and take it while Quackerjack batted baseballs into his gut and Liquidator smothered his face in a mass of water, nearly drowning him. I laughed gleefully as I watched. Sometimes those nitwits proved to be useful.
Suddenly a loud hissing sound filled the air, momentarily interrupting the assault, and a cloud of blue smoke appeared at the wing entrance. I glowered at the smog, knowing exactly what pestilence it brought.
"I am the terror that flaps in the night!" that insufferable voice announced.
"Move it, you nobs!" I snarled lowly. Instantly they backed off of the has-been cop, and he collapsed onto the floor, puking water.
"I am the gum on the shoe soul of crime!"
I ignored Darkwing Dolt; his presence fit perfectly with my plan. Chuckling, I pulled Jacob roughly to his feet. He tottered on his bad leg, but I only made him stand long enough so I could plant my fist square in his lower abdomen. As he jerked forward with the force of my blow, I landed another one on his jaw, and he toppled backward right through a large display case. Glass cascaded around him in a shower of deadly needles, and I knew the noise would bring security.
As he lay there amid a sparkling sea of debris, I leaned forward and hissed into his ear. "A little something to remember me by."
A few minutes later I heard voices combined with racing footsteps. I knew it was the interior guards that had been patrolling the other wings.
The smoke was finally clearing, allowing that idiotic avian a chance to scope the room, and I barked to the Fearsome Five to hightail it out of there. Frantic flashlights became visible, and as we charged back the way we'd come, undetected, I couldn't help but allow myself a bit of evil laughter. Not only had I come away with the rod I needed to power the RMCD, but I had planted a successful diversion for the authorities while I initiated my plans for the takeover of St. Canard. Once that was complete, I would FINALLY nab the title of Public Enemy Number One from Dr. Slug.
I must not have been out for long. As the world came back into focus, I could decipher three voices chattering over my throbbing head, which only served to make it worse.
"We got him, we got him! I can't believe it, Bruce, our first robber! Should we call the cops yet?"
"No!" A duck wearing a purple mask retorted indignantly. "I'm the one who got here first, I'll handle it!"
"Hey!" The guard named Bruce cried, eyeing me. "That's the guy I saw snooping around earlier! Only…" Bruce started looking around the room warily.
"Only what?" Darkwing asked hurriedly.
"Well," Bruce faltered. The hero was inches away from his face, staring at him intently. "Uh…I saw him up here before, only it was across the hall by the Industrial Resolution exhibit."
"Yeah, so?"
"There was a lady with him."
"So where is she now, hmmm?" Darkwing spat critically.
Bruce shrugged, but didn't allow Darkwing's impatience to get to him. Instead he began walking slowly around the room, surveying in shrewdly until he noticed the missing scepter.
"Maybe they got into an argument…"
"And what, pray tell, does a lover's quarrel have to do with anything?"
Bruce didn't answer for quite some time, and the intensity in the air was thick. He bent down to study the shattered glass, then walked back over to look down at me.
"She got the goods and made a break for it so he would get all the rap."
"An interesting theory," Darkwing said after coming out of a flabbergasted stupor. The kid had a solid idea, and there was no evidence to disprove it. At least, not until the police could come and sweep for fingerprints…if they even bothered to do that. It was clear even though I was still in a daze that the vigilante was impressed, and even a bit bothered that he hadn't come up with it first.
A pair of solid hands landed on my shoulders, and for a second time that evening I was yanked roughly to my feet. My mind was finally clearing, and I was met with the face of Darkwing Duck. It was the first time in a very long time that I looked my son in the eyes.
There was so much depth to them that I couldn't even begin to grasp any certainties to his character, but in the seconds I saw into him I watched the color darken with the flash of abhorrence that came with recognition. As he shoved me around and twisted my arms behind my back, I felt air pass over my face, and it was only then that I realized there was blood trickling over my features. It was no wonder the boy hadn't recognized me until then.
Bruce tsked as Darkwing fitted me with handcuffs. "What a shame, these ex-cops. You just can't trust anyone anymore."
I would have argued the arrest with my son, tried to fight for my innocence, but I knew my reasoning would fall on deaf ears. There was no room in my son's life for me anymore. This I had learned years ago, after the murders of my wife and daughter.
The sound of the waves crashing relentlessly against the wharf drifted through the splitting wood that made up the old warehouse I was currently using as a base. My pathetic lackeys trailed behind me as I practically ran through the maze of hallways and down flights of uneven stairs to where we'd stashed SHUSH's top secret weapon.
The golden staff felt like an extension of my arm; the weight of its power coursed through my veins and spurred me forward toward the glory I so aptly deserved.
"Wait here!" I snapped.
Alone now, I pushed through the doorway into my private office and strode to the dilapidated closet, where I had been keeping a certain SHUSH employee detained. Her eyes shrank to slits as the light that filtered into the room invaded the small space she'd inhabited for weeks.
"All right, 'Doctor,'" I sneered, forcing her to her feet. "We're going on a little field trip…"
Reaching around her head, I pulled down a lever that stuck out of the wall and heard the gears begin to grind. Slowly the back wall of the closet slid sideways to reveal yet another staircase. I dragged her after me; I wanted her with me when I brought the RMCD to life...
"Let's see if you were a good girl and told us the truth about your little invention," I taunted her, gripping her upper arm until I could feel her quickened pulse beneath my fingertips.
It wasn't until we reached the grimy floor of the basement that I stopped short, choking on a malicious snigger. The place was empty. Completely and utterly void of the weapon that was the centerpiece to my glorious domination of this pathetic metropolis.
Rage bubbled up into my throat, and as I clenched my fists together a roar that shook the foundation of the warehouse loosed itself from my lungs. I knew exactly where my weapon was.
"DAMN YOU, JAKE!!"
Author's Note: Whew! Bear with me, guys. One more chapter left and all will be revealed! Hopefully I've created somewhat of a good mystery. I apologize for my lengthy absence, but life has thrown a few curveballs and I'm just now settling in. I'll do my best with the finale! In the meantime, please R&R! I have changed the setup of a few of the chapters, and many of them have been edited. Take a look!