My Kingdom For a Double-Plait Bolt!
by RL Kelly
A/N: Well, I passed my self-imposed deadline to finish this act... and didn't even finish this chapter in time. Hmm. Well, only one more to go! Anyway, HUGE thanks to the people who are reviewing this! I feel like a rat because I've been so bad about replying. I always mean to, believe me! but I forget. So from here on out I'm going to reply to everything! Honest! :D Anyway, this is probably another long one, but I guess it's more or less ready...
Act II, part two
It would be so much easier if he said hello first. She slowed as she approached, hoping he would notice her and she could pretend she hadn't noticed him and act surprised when he said something, but there was no such luck. Maybe she should just keep walking...
The idea of passing someone she knew on the street, staring at them, and walking right by them was so stupid and embarrassing that she took a deep breath and pushed right through her shyness. "Ha- hi!" she said, catching a little on the forced peppiness of her voice.
Launchpad started, which was embarrassing and awkward, and for the first split second that he looked at her she would swear he had no idea who she was and that was even worse. She remembered immediately why she preferred never to approach anyone. But a second later, recognition lit his entire face and he gave her a broad grin. "Hey, Beth! Long time no see!"
She laughed awkwardly, all the adrenalin that had allowed her to speak up a moment ago now draining into a kind of weak nervousness. "Heh, yeah, guess so. Um, sorry if I scared you, I just was walking home and I saw you and I thought it would be nice to say something..."
"No problemo," he said casually. That was not a phrase she heard many people say, and it made her smile. "I'm glad you did say somethin', I didn't even hear ya comin' up."
"Oh. Well good."
He looked past her, up towards the roof of the building behind her, for a moment and then back down at her. "You look different outside of Bindler's," he said thoughtfully.
"I... do?" She became self-conscious suddenly; maybe it was the lighting. "In a good way or a bad way?"
Launchpad tilted his head as if considering. "I dunno. Neither really, you just look more... I dunno, more real."
She wanted to ask again if that was good or bad, but that was the kind of question that usually drove guys up the wall (or so she'd heard), so she just smiled nervously instead. As ever, the pleasure she felt in talking to Launchpad was paired with an equally strong sense of guilt; the more she spoke to him, the more she felt like she was keeping him from something else, and she should really let him go and do the things he'd rather be doing. And yet if she didn't talk to him, the guilt didn't go away, it just mutated itself so that she felt guilty for not returning his kindness; he cared enough to talk to her and keep her company, and she was trying to ditch him for some reason. Either way, apparently, Beth was a total jerk in her own mind and since there was no winning, she just stayed where she was, felt uncomfortable, and enjoyed having someone to talk to.
Just now, he straighted up and nodded a little, as though he'd reached a decision. "I think it's in a good way," he said finally. She could feel her cheeks growing hot, and she looked at her feet; as she did, she noticed that Launchpad looked distinctly satisfied with himself somehow.
"Um, thanks," she said quietly. She wondered if she was supposed to return the compliment, decided that if she did it would sound phony, and made a mental note to herself to give him a spontaneous compliment as soon as she could work one in naturally. The conversation was lagging; she fumbled for a topic. Looking back up at him, she said, "Did you guys find the bolt you were looking for?"
Launchpad had been looking at the skyline again; as he dragged his eyes back down towards her, he said, "Huh? Oh, no, it's funny... apparently you guys are the only ones in the area who carry 'em."
Beth was surprised. "Really? Wow, there must have been a recall or something. Henny gets these deals with manufacturers to unload all their leftover stock at lower prices, see," she explained. "She's, um, she's really good at negotiations."
"I bet," Launchpad said in a low voice. Whatever he was thinking, Beth guessed it wasn't flattering, and she giggled. He winked at her, before checking out the rooftops again.
"I'm sorry, is there -" Beth began to turn around and check out whatever he was looking at, continuing, "Am I keeping you from something?"
"Oh, no way!" he said quickly, and reached for her shoulder, pulling her back to look at him. She was startled enough that she whirled back, and they stared at one another for a few seconds before both smiled sheepishly. "Sorry 'bout that," he said. "I just mean, uh, there's nothin' up there. Just... just the stars."
"Oh, you're looking at the stars?" She smiled; that was kind of romantic. Although when she looked over his head, the light pollution in St. Canard was so strong that she couldn't make out anything but streetlamps.
"Uh, kinda," he said, perhaps guessing what she was thinking. "Tryin' to, anyway." With all the speed of someone who was deliberately changing the subject, he said, "So that bolt! I think I'm gonna come in and put in a special order or somethin', if you guys think you could get any more."
"Oh, that's a good idea!" she said. An even better idea occurred to her then, an idea of the kind she rarely had: clever, subtle, and almost-but-not-quite devious. "In fact, I can put one in FOR you. But I'll do it in Mr. Mallard's name so that it'll come straight to him, since he's the one who needs the bolt."
"Hey, good thinkin'," Launchpad said, nodding.
Beth retrieved a pen and an old receipt from the pocket of her jacket, and held them at the ready. "I'll just need his phone number and full address, and I'll get this done the next time I'm at work." She looked up apologetically. "I can't get it delivered in less than five business days, though. I guess he kind of needs it sooner than that."
"Well, we'll keep lookin' around to see what comes up, but if that's the quickest we can get it, it's good enough for me." Launchpad rattled off an address and phone number, and Beth scribbled both down and shoved both paper and pen back into her pockets, feeling satisfied and even a little proud of herself. She knew that she was extremely unlikely to ever call Drake Mallard personally, but now, if she actually felt up to it, she could.
The fact that she'd accomplished this task lifted her spirits and made talking to Launchpad easier, somehow. "Well, I feel better now that that's taken care of," she said.
"That's real nice of you to keep DW in mind that way," Launchpad offered.
"Oh, you know, customers first." Emboldened by her recent success, she asked, "So, um, is Mister - Dra- Drake... Mallard... around?" That was the most awkward sentence ever spoken aloud, she thought, and wilted inside.
"Oh, Drake is, uh, he's grocery shoppin'," Launchpad answered.
"At... at ten in the evening?"
Launchpad cleared his throat. "Uh, well, we needed a few emergency things." He looked uncertain. "And I'm just out here, uh..."
"Looking at stars," she finished for him.
"Yeah. Well, no, not just that!" Looking uncertain, he said, "I'm actually... keepin' an eye on the car, too."
"Oh! Well, gosh, that's really nice of you!" She was starting to get tired, and still had a long walk ahead of her, but the chance for a possibility of seeing Drake again was so great that she had to at least consider staying. "So, is... is Mist- is he going to be coming back soon? Do you think?"
Launchpad looked just the tiniest bit lost, and it took him a moment to answer.
"For the last time, you single-minded simpleton, it's a grappling hook!" Darkwing shouted, dodging another blast of lightning. Megavolt seemed beyond listening by now, however; he wasn't even ranting about robots anymore, just taking aim with that zap-gun of his and shooting bolts in all directions.
Well, two could play at that game. Darkwing pulled out his gas gun, aimed by instinct, and fired. And only then remembered that it was broken, as the gun misfired and a cloud of purple gas began to leak out of the gun and surround him. He kicked it to the side, cursing everything from the gun to the bolt to that bubblehead at the hardware store who hadn't helped him at all; the gun had worked fine when he shot the grappling hook - why was there a problem now?!
Megavolt's attention was somehow ensnared by Darkwing's momentary equipment failure. "Ha! If that was supposed to be intimidating, I've gotta tell you, you need to rethink your strategy!" He giggled at that, though Darkwing didn't think it was a particularly impressive taunt.
He tried bluffing in response. "All part of a plan, Sparky, but the less you know about it, the better!"
Whether Megavolt would have bought it or not would never be known, however, since he apparently stopped paying attention at the name "Sparky". "Oooooh, YOU! DON'T! CALL! ME! THAT!!" The amount of power he was discharging went up considerably, and the rooftop began to look like it was housing a neon sign in the shape of an electrified rat.
Maybe the taunting hadn't been the best idea, Darkwing acknowledged as he hugged the edge of the rooftop, fleeing from Megavolt's blasts. He paused at the west side of the roof, sticking his arm over the side and waving it three times in what he hoped was as natural a way as possible. So, granted, this fight hadn't gone entirely as he'd envisioned it so far, but Darkwing was a master of improvisational fighting and this whole showdown could easily be salvaged. Darkwing would keep wearing him out, and meanwhile, Launchpad would be up here in just a few minutes to distract him and help take him down.
In fact, Darkwing would have been absolutely right in his expectations, if Launchpad had actually been following the plan. Instead, his sidekick's attention was increasingly focused on Beth; she kept asking stuff about Drake, and he was having more and more trouble steering the conversation away from the danger zone. Launchpad felt he was generally pretty good at not giving away anything important when it came to secret identities or that kind of thing, but Beth kept asking so many questions that he was having a little trouble coming up with answers.
"What department?" she asked, cocking her head. She looked so intent; he was so fascinated by how different she was from when she was at work, how much more alive she seemed, that he forgot to answer. "Launchpad? What department does Mr. Mallard work in?"
"Huh?" Shoot, another tough question.
"In his social work. Do you guys both work in the same department?"
"Oh, uh..." He coughed as a way to stall. "It's, work with, uh, whattaya call it. Troubled teens."
"Social outreach kind of thing?" Launchpad nodded; Beth's eyes were practically shining. "That's so noble!"
"Yeah," said Launchpad. "And, yeah, I work with him. For him, kinda." She didn't seem to notice; he felt the tiniest touch of disappointment at that, but decided that he needed to change the subject completely before she asked something even harder. "So... do you go out a lot?"
"Go out?" She seemed taken aback; her energy level fell noticeably. "You mean like, with... with other people?"
"Yeah," he said, surprised that he'd taken the conversation that way. Sure, he'd mentioned to DW that he'd been playing with the idea of asking her out, but he hadn't given it any thought beyond that. "Out, with people."
She gave a quick, odd laugh. "Um, no, generally speaking no I don't."
"Really? You're kiddin' me," he said, grinning. She got all fidgety and looked at her feet, rubbing her cheek a little and grinning a little, herself. "Well, maybe sometime I could -"
"You probably do a lot though, huh?" she said quickly, cutting him off.
He considered the question for a moment. "Well, kinda... Not as much as I used to, but I was thinkin' of-"
"What about Mr. Mallard?" she asked, interrupting him again. "Does he go out on a lot of dates, or... well, he's probably got a wife and everything, actually, right?"
"Who, DW? Nah, he's not married. Nothin' like that." The question had given him pause; how had they ended up on the subject of Drake again? It wasn't until Beth's eyes lit up as she answered that he began to understand.
"Oh... he's not married?" she said. Her voice was eager; there was no mistaking it.
So she had a thing for DW. Launchpad needed to just take a little moment to process that; he really hadn't seen that coming. It wasn't like it mattered - he didn't have his eye on her that way or anything, it was just...
Well, what was it? He wasn't sure. His interest in Beth was purely platonic, as cute as she was capable of being. She wasn't the type of girl he generally went after, but he liked flirting with her; he liked being the guy to make her smile, since he had a feeling there weren't many guys who took the time to do it. And he really did like her, anyway, but that didn't have anything to do with whether or not she was interested in DW.
He was losing his touch, that was it. It wasn't that Launchpad had ever thought of himself as a real ladies' man or anything, exactly, but he'd never had any problems lining up dates either. With most girls, they at least knew when he was flirting with them; Beth was the first one who seemed genuinely ignorant of it. And it wasn't that he wanted to string her along, but he was surprised to find that they weren't on the same page here after all. Now that he thought about it, it had been a while since he'd been out with a girl, even casually... There'd been lots of girls when he was younger, in Duckburg, but most of the ones he'd really liked he'd had to leave behind. Then things had started to move more quickly - he'd moved to St. Canard, taken up odd jobs, started working with DW, and dating just hadn't been a priority. It took a lot of energy, it seemed, and there weren't usually more than two or three dates, and then either he or the girl lost interest; lots of misunderstandings, or just boredom.
Beth was kind of an experiment, and also kind of an attempt to ease himself back into it; go out a few times with a friend, remember how you do it, then start working into meeting new girls and seeing what happens. And it was way better to go out with a friend you knew you liked being with than it was to just pick someone at random, right?
Except now that he thought about it, asking Beth out under those circumstances, flirting with her every time he saw her... it all felt a little dishonest. He felt like a heel. Better not to ask her out in case she took it the wrong way... He was probably lucky he hadn't already set that situation up, by mistake.
"Oh, gosh, what time is it?" Beth asked suddenly. Launchpad checked his watch - it was twenty past ten - then showed it to her. "WOW, is it really that late? I'm sorry to keep you - I should have -"
"Hey, I'm the one who's waitin' here, remember?" he interrupted, chuckling. "Calm down. It's more like I'm the one keepin' you."
She half-smiled. "It's not like that at all," she said; it was hard to tell if she was talking to him, or to herself, but she relaxed a little. "Well, I should go. I'm starving, and I have a long walk ahead of me."
Something in that sentence made him uneasy, but Launchpad tried not to show it. "Then go get somethin' to eat, an' I'll see ya later. Thanks for sayin' hi."
"Thanks for... answering," she said feebly. Her smile was distinctly nervous now, and she started past him down the sidewalk. "I'll see you. Um, probably. Right?"
"Yeah," he said, a little distractedly. It hit him belatedly what was bothering him about what she'd said. A long walk home... "How long is long?" he asked as she was walking away.
"What?" She turned back to him, and when he repeated the question, she blinked and then understood. "Oh - home? Um, about twenty minutes. So it's really not that bad, I'm just hungry, and you know how it is when you really want to be somewhere, right?"
"Yeah, but..." The direction she was headed in one a bad one. Launchpad had a pretty good sense of the better and worse parts of the city, and another half mile or so that way was definitely one of the worse. "Are you - you're just gonna walk?"
Beth cocked her head. "Well, yeah." She caught on a moment later, and fished through her handbag. "Oh! Oh, it's okay. I walk home all the time. I-" She paused, rummaging, then came up with a little spray can. "I have pepper spray." It had taken her a long time to find it, tucked away in her handbag. Her incredibly conspicuous handbag.
Launchpad had a sudden, vivid mental picture of Beth getting mugged. It was a horrible picture. His stomach twisted a little. "Look, I'm gonna..." He stopped. What was he going to do? Walk her home? That wasn't an option right now. With that thought as a trigger to remind him, he looked up briefly at the rooftop, then back down to Beth. He could not let this woman walk home alone.
She was watching him quizzically. A moment later the proverbial lightbulb went off over his head, and he dug into his pocket. "Okay. I think I got enough for a cab."
Beth came rushing back towards him, shaking her head and her hands. "Oh no, oh gosh, no no no. Please don't."
"Yeah. I'm insistin'."
"No! I can't take-" He stopped her, and forced the money into her hands. She held onto it but frowned. "I-I can afford a cab myself," she said quietly.
"Okay. Then you can pay me back later." She started to argue again, and he cut her off. "C'mon. Do me a favour, Beth." He grinned, what he hoped was appealingly, and she softened. A huge weight lifted off his chest when she nodded her consent. "Great. No rush on payin' me back, either. I'll see ya real soon."
Beth dropped her hands, cupping the money he'd just given her, and gave that half-smile again. "I'll have the money for you then." She took a step backwards, turned to go, and then turned back. "Um... Thanks."
"No problemo!"
She turned again, took two more steps, and then turned back beseechingly. "Tell Mr. Mallard 'hi' for me?"
Launchpad smiled and nodded, and what he felt was oddly melancholy. "Will do." Beth waved, and he waved back, and then she was halfway down the block, and then she had turned a corner.
He did wish he could have walked her home. But he was technically on the job, and there was DW's plan to consider... His eyes widened. "Uh-oh." Launchpad turned his head up to the rooftop, in time to see Darkwing hanging half over the edge, waving both arms frantically.
"LAUNCHPAAAAD!" he yelled. Then he disappeared - apparently pulled backwards - and there was quite a lot of light.
"Uh-oh," Launchpad repeated, and raced across the street.
When he arrived at the building, he wasn't actually quite sure how he was supposed to reach the top. Was he supposed to climb up the same way DW had gone? That didn't seem right - he didn't recall that being the arrangement - and anyway, he didn't seem to be able to find the rope from the hook. He looked around for a fire escape, didn't see anything that looked likely, and as a last resort tried the doors to the building.
Miraculously, they were open; the elevator, on the other hand, was not running and Launchpad's luck was out. He looked around frantically, found the emergency staircase, and took them two at a time up to the roof.
He was almost expecting the door to the roof to be locked - that seemed like it was the way things were - but the knob turned easily in his hand. He looked at it in surprise and realized that the lock had been melted - which explained why the front doors were open, as well.
DW had specified no stealth; Launchpad's job was supposed to be to distract, so he kicked the door open and made as big an entrance as he could. "That's enough outta you, you big bully!" he said, which had sounded better in his head.
Megavolt looked up, an expression of surprise momentarily covering his features, and then he sighed raggedly. "Great, now there's two of 'em!" he exclaimed. He backed away from a pile of rags that was lying in the corner of the rooftop, and quickly swept a large pile of... something into a bag. "You guys'll have to excuse me, I think I've had enough fun for one night! But come back tomorrow... It'll be a blast!" He laughed, hefted the bag over one shoulder, and stepped up onto the edge of the roof.
Launchpad paused, realizing Megavolt was about to escape... but shouldn't DW be stepping in to stop him any time now? He didn't see any sign of Darkwing, so it looked like it was up to him after all. He was trying to figure out a good course of action, when his eye fell on the pile of rags again. That was when he realized the pile was breathing, and it was purple, and actually it wasn't a pile of rags at all.
"DW?" he asked, blinking. Megavolt took advantage of the moment of inaction and stepped over the side of the roof, noticing as he did that he was several stories off the ground. He made an interesting, albeit brief, noise on the way down which Launchpad failed to take notice of as he rushed to Darkwing's side. "DW! You okay?"
The rag pile/vigilante groaned in response. "Just... peachy," he managed.
Launchpad took Darkwing's hat off and fanned him with it. It was the only thing he could think of to do.
Darkwing, meanwhile, started to straighten himself out. His clothes were a little charred, but he was beginning to look lifelike again. He popped a few joints, rotated his limbs, and stood up. Launchpad put the hat down and started trying to brush the char marks off of Darkwing's costume. Darkwing swatted his hands away. "Leave it... It needs to be... drycleaned."
"I'm real sorry, DW," Launchpad began.
"Tell me... something," Darkwing said in a weak voice. Launchpad bent closer to hear him. "Tell me... something good. Like that you... couldn't get here on time... because you were saving someone's... kittens."
"Well," said Launchpad, laughing nervously, "it's a funny story. See, I ran into Beth, and-"
"Who?" Darkwing, now at least able to stand up under his own power, looked genuinely at a loss.
"Y'know. Beth. Cute girl from the hardware store."
Darkwing didn't say anything for a moment or two; he just gave Launchpad a long look. Then he said, "Ah. Beth. I see. I see." He took his hat off, held it in his hands for a moment as if considering it, and then used it to whack Launchpad on the head. Launchpad flinched, even though it didn't hurt. "You left me up here to be fried because you were chatting up a girl!?"
"No, it's good news! See, she's gonna put in a special order for that last bolt we couldn't find!"
Darkwing didn't look appeased. "Perfect! So now I have to go back in and talk to her again, when the best thing I could ask for is to have her out of my life completely!"
Launchpad frowned; that was a little harsh, and it was made even worse when he thought about Beth's face when she was asking about DW. "You don't really mean that. You'll like her more when you're not-"
"Not what? Not fried to a crisp because she was hogging your attention? Not without my main piece of equipment because she gave away all the hardware I need... to a dangerous criminal? Not awake?" He snorted, and put his hat back on his head. "Next time you want to make time with your girlfriend, LP, do it when you're not on the clock. Now c'mon, let's get down to the street and see if we can catch up with Megavolt."
Launchpad found, to his discomfort, that he was blushing. "Aw, c'mon. She's not my girlfriend." Darkwing didn't answer, but he snorted again.
Most of Darkwing's weight did need to be supported, and it took them a while to get down all the stairs. By the time they made it, the streets were empty.
"Launchpad?"
Beth had made it about a block or so from Launchpad and had spent a few minutes looking for a cab, and had spent the entire time convincing herself that she was way out of line in taking Launchpad's money. She had become certain that she was presenting herself in a false light, somehow, even though she wasn't sure how exactly she'd done that; it was dishonest, in the end, and so even though she really wanted more than anything else to be at home, she'd turned around and gone back the way she'd come.
But Launchpad wasn't there anymore. Just to be totally sure that she wasn't just on the wrong street, she'd circled around a few blocks, but there was no sign of him. Her heart fell; she'd missed not only him, but Drake Mallard as well, apparently.
Or maybe he'd just taken the opportunity to ensure that he didn't run into her again, by ducking into a store or...
No. Launchpad came in to see her every week; he wasn't that kind of person. At least, she thought, not yet.
She gave it one last shot. "Launchpad? Are you still here? Launchpad??"
A voice snapped back down at her. "Keep it down over there! Some of us are trying to count!"
Beth gasped and looked around, trying to figure out what window the voice had come from. "Sorry," she said, but it came out as a mumble that couldn't possibly have been audible to the person she'd unintentionally annoyed. Well, better that way. She didn't want to interrupt his counting again.
Now she was stuck, and it was something close to 11 pm, and she hadn't had anything to eat since lunch, and she was tired, and she felt like crying. Maybe she should just go ahead and use Launchpad's money for a cab after all; if he was already gone, whether she used it or not it was all about the same at this point.
She took another step, and kicked a small object into the side of a nearby building. It clinked loudly. The 'clink' was just enough to catch her attention without it really entering her mind; she was still pondering what she should do as she approached the side of the building and peered down at whatever it was she had kicked.
It was a familiar object, a part of her daily routine: a bolt, about a quarter-inch in diameter, and until she noticed the funny little bend in the middle she didn't even take much notice of it.
Then her breath caught. "Is that a...?" She straightened, looked around almost guiltily, and then stooped to pick the bolt up. It was what it had seemed to be: a double-plait bolt. To be specific, a 4-1/4 double-plait bolt, the very kind that Drake Mallard had asked for.
She rolled the little piece of hardware between her thumb and forefinger, staring at it wonderingly. This had to be a set-up. Maybe she was on Candid Camera. She looked around for any sign at all of a television camera, then realized how ludicrous that was, because this related to something out of her personal life and not some weird set-up on the street.
But still, it was too perfect. How could this have happened? "Is this real?" she asked out loud. Her voice made her wonder if anyone was nearby watching. Louder, she said, "Hey, did anyone lose a double-plait bolt?"
Having said that, she felt stupid. There was no one around - no one except the anonymous counter, that was - and it wasn't like it was a wallet. It was a bolt. It meant pretty much nothing to anyone in the world... except for her.
"Maybe this is a sign," she said to herself. Despite herself, she smiled, falteringly. "Maybe... Maybe this is the start of something really big, something really special for me. Maybe..." She stared upwards, towards the stars that Launchpad had so recently been admiring, and thought for the first time that she could see the patterns hiding in them. Perhaps if she looked for long enough, she'd see the face of the man she would marry.
She thought, for the first time in her life, that she might know what that face looked like.
She was a few feet down the street, distractedly heading towards home, when she heard a very heavy thump behind her. She looked over her shoulder, but saw nothing; a noise like that could have been anything, right? A cat, or... Or...
Well, it almost certainly could be something else. But at the same time, she was suddenly very aware that she was out on the street, by herself, at close to 11 pm. And she had been calling out, drawing attention to herself.
A cab slid down the street, heading towards her, and she made her mind up very suddenly to use that cab money. She would pay Launchpad back tomorrow. It was worth it just to get home quickly, eat a light dinner, and jump into bed. She hailed the cab and got inside it, pretending that she wasn't hurrying.
R
After a very painful landing, Megavolt had retreated to a quieter place so that he could count his bag of bolts one last time, as if this time something would be different. Midway through the climb to the roof of the latest building he'd selected as his little nest - there were no good lighthouses or electrical towers around here, which was a loss he might try someday to correct - he thought to question why, exactly, he was making himself climb when every muscle in his body was recovering from that last fall.
But the height of the building helped him recover his sense of purpose, and soon he was about halfway through the pile. And he had a good feeling about this count; this time, he thought, it might even have two or three extra bolts.
A voice picked at the fringe of his consciousness, distracting him. Some girl down on the sidewalk, yelling to someone. "Keep it down over there! Some of us are trying to count!" he yelled back, and the calling stopped abruptly. He immediately wished he hadn't made a noise; if Darkwing was out there looking for him, he might as well have just put up a big sign announcing his whereabouts. "Wow," he said, more quietly, "wish I could take that back. Oh, well... Four-hundred-ninety-seven... Four-hundred-ninety-eighhhhtttt..."
He stopped, realizing what was about to happen. He needed two more; there were not two more in the pile. There was one.
"After EVERYTHING I just went through!?" Megavolt said, smacking his forehead and consequently whacking his goggles against his face. Below, the voice had started up again, more quietly this time; this was the only thing that reminded him not to yell in frustration.
Instead, he pushed all the stupid little bolts back into their bag and thought very seriously about dumping them all into the trash and starting over with a new plan. This one no longer seemed as cool as it had before. He hefted the bag up and peered over the side of the roof, down at the person speaking; if Darkwing wasn't in sight, maybe he could take out some of his frustration on some harmless bystander. That could work.
It was a girl; a vaguely familiar girl who was beanpole-thin and wore glasses. She was holding something cupped in her hand - maybe a bug of some kind - and Megavolt considered just aiming a few little zaps at her and seeing what she did.
"Hey," the girl said, looking around at the street, "did anyone lose a double-plait bolt?" Megavolt, aiming his fingers like a gun at her ponytail, didn't take any notice until he was about to let a zap fire. Then he caught himself suddenly; double-plait bolt?
He remembered, unusually, where he knew her from: that hardware store! The girl who hadn't given him all the bolts he'd needed! And now she was about to walk off with the ONE that was rightfully his, that he'd probably dropped himself a few hours ago! That was just plain dishonest.
The girl was already walking down the street. Megavolt realized he had to follow her and get that bolt back; the whole plan, the perfect plan, could still be salvaged if he just got that bolt. He started to hoist his legs over the side of the roof, then stopped, and laughed at himself.
"What am I thinking?" he said, chuckling. "Boy, would my face have been red!" He went back, grabbed the bag of bolts, and then jumped over the side of the building.
The first time hurt a little more, but he was unconscious for longer this time. When he woke up, the girl was gone.
To be continued!