When There's Trouble

The vampire turned and headed back to the centre of the tower. He watched as a big grapple contraption took hold of Launchpad's motorcycle and turned it around so it faced the way it had come.

"Launchpad!" He exclaimed, "Well done ... you brought it back in one piece!"
"Hey, DW!" Launchpad met him in the centre of the room with a smile on his face. "You got yeh memory back!"
"Uh ... no," DW blushed as Launchpad's face fell, "I'm still working on it. I was actually just about to-."
"There's no time for that now, DW!" The bikie took DW's shoulders and shook him. "St. Canard needs you to save it."

"Launchpad, don't you think you might be acting just a teensy bit over-melodramatically here?" DW pulled himself away from the duck and straightened his cape. "What is it that's got you ... of all people ... flustered?"
"Well, yeh know that witch we were lookin' for?"
DW thought quickly. "Can't Morgana help? She's a witch too. They could ... you know, maybe talk it out together?"
"It's not the witch, DW! It's the monster she's made! It's loose out there in the streets!"

DW stared at Launchpad. "The monster ... that the witch created ... because I didn't stop her when I had the chance. Be-because it was too dangerous ... it's all because of me! Because I didn't have the guts to do something as dangerous as mess with a witch. Gosalyn was right." Darkwing swallowed. "There I was complaining about egotistical ducks and ..."
"Never mind all that, DW! It's dangerous out there. We've gotta do something now before things get any worse!"
DW straightened himself to attention and thought for a moment. "The best way to face a terrifying lethal danger is on an even footing. Launchpad, we'd better make ourselves dangerous too."
"Alright, DW!" Launchpad cheered in relief.

The vampire glanced around the tower. "Uh, Launchpad, you live here too ... is there anything here we can use to cause a distraction?"
"Heh, no problemo, DW." Launchpad hurried off. "I've got just the thing."
DW quickly followed him and looked over his friend's shoulder in curiosity as Launchpad rummaged through a large storage box of junk.

Launchpad threw something that looked like a popgun out onto the floor. "Nope, not that one."
"Why, what's the matter with that thing?" DW picked it up. "We could load stuff into it and send it flying. It's a perfect distraction tool!"
"It's a bit melted ... here's one that's working ... er, I think ..." Launchpad looked up. "Wait a minute, DW; don't you always carry a gas gun on you?"
DW shrugged and started rummaging through his pockets. Amongst the bits and pieces he found an identical 'gas' gun and several cartridges that fit in the nozzle.

He looked at each of the tags on the cartridges and found that instead of words they had a number of holes punched out instead. "Um, alright ... what do these holes mean, Launchpad?"
Launchpad glanced at the cartridge labels. "Um, sorry, DW. There could be anything in them; it's all Braille to me."
"The hole sequence indicates the contents ..." DW stared at the textual code his former self had devised. A hole sequence of three, two and a space and then two ... one a space and then three ... "Great, now I wish I really did remember Darkwing Duck."
"Well, at least we're making progress." Launchpad claimed. "Wanting is the first step to getting yourself better."
DW looked up at Launchpad. "Do you always pick moments like these to say enlightening things, Launchpad?"
Launchpad shrugged. "Gee, uh, that's a tough one, DW. I just call them how I see them."

"Grab that boomerang contraption, Launchpad, and let's go."
Launchpad pulled out the boomerang launcher from the box. "What's this for?"
DW shrugged as he turned and headed for the gleaming motorbike. "Frankly I have no real idea about any of this, Launchpad, but you need a distraction of your own."
Launchpad chuckled as he followed him back to the motorcycle, "gee, thanks, DW."
"Yeah." DW sat in the sidecar. "Or you'll turn into a smudge on the pavement." He put his helmet on and paused in the middle of putting his hat into the compartment. "Hey, look what's in here!" He started rummaging through the various objects, now recognising the cluttered crowd as potentially useful tools. "You guys do this often, huh?"

Launchpad got onto the driver's seat. " 'We', DW; you and me." Launchpad revved the engine into life and Darkwing sat carefully down on his seat.
"Oh, no, here we go again!" He grabbed tightly onto his seatbelt and Launchpad raced out onto the bridge's suspension cables with a momentary feeling of weightlessness, and then thud, they were back on the roadway.
"Hey, y'alright, D-?"
"Watch-out-for-the-tip-truck!" DW quacked. He squawked as Launchpad pressed a button that made the motorcycle jump three metres into the air. Launchpad drove straight over the slow moving vehicle and they landed onto the road in front of it. "Heh, glad to know the new emergency a-bit-less-than-super spring is working properly."

DW breathed in relief.

"I get it now, Launchpad." The vampire resolved as they headed into the city, "you're a stunt driver."
"Er, a-actually, aeroplanes are more my specialty, DW."
"Then what are you doing driving a motorbike?"
"Well, it's a long story ... but it basically ended up with you giving me the keys."

They veered fast around a corner and narrowly missed a Toyota Canary.
"When I get my memory back, remind me to take those keys back off you!"
"Gee, DW; yeh never really minded me driving the station wagon."
"I don't care what you drive! It's me that I want to stay in one piece!" Mid sentence, the vampire sensed running people one street over from them. "Pull over!" He shrieked.

Launchpad put on the brakes and they skidded several metres, spun around and finished off in a parking pace between two classy Metro Golden Birds.
"I didn't think I was that bad." Launchpad pouted, holding out the keys.
"No! I mean, yes; your driving really is that bad, Launchpad, but ..." Darkwing pointed at the alleyway opposite them. "We are one street away from I don't really want to know what." He shuddered. Launchpad's urgent need for his help was suddenly dwarfed by his need for self preservation. "You know what? I've changed my mind. S-someone else can do it. What about the police? Or S.H.U.S.H.? There's got to be a lot of people working in a building that huge. Perhaps we can g-go get them to handle this?"
"Er … it's uh … nearly 4 a.m. in the morning, DW. They're all in bed..." Launchpad pulled him to the edge of the pavement. "Hey, I know you can handle it, buddy." He proclaimed confidently.
"I can handle it?" DW repeated, feeling the words of encouragement working on him and making him bold.
"Yep."

Launchpad led him across the street and they walked through the alleyway up to the other end. "Show 'em what yeh made of, DW."

"That's right! I am Darkwing-." Darkwing watched the monster on the street before him suddenly rip up a post-box and scatter the contents all over the ground.

Then the mismatched conglomeration of fur and feathers turned, sensing him watching it.
"... Dust!" Darkwing squawked. He stared transfixed in horror as it lumbered unsteadily towards him.