Bradford sliced a standing rock in half with a loud grunt, breathing heavily from the exercises he just performed. Jumping, sprinting, weightlifting, acrobatics. He hopped at lightning speed towards the next rocks and continued the same movements, pausing to roundhouse kick at the cut rocks, aiming for where the head would be.
He had started these fortnightly excursions not long after he laid his eyes on the Sword again when he brought April back to his vacation home all those years ago. He had vowed to protect her, and this was the only thing that came to mind readily.
To leave him with the last bit of control he could master over their fates… for now. He can't protect her from him. But he could protect her from the dangerous world out there.
A feeling of agency and influence from his own impotency.
He somersaulted backwards in the air, feeling the calmness of the breeze and his lightness swiftly going through the wind easily. He landed on a higher perch and lifted the Sword towards the heavens. A flash of red lightning from the cloudy sky sparked the Sword's metal, and Bradford crouched on the rocks and swung it broadly against the landscape, letting out a lash of lightning against the line of rocks, splitting them all with a loud crack of electricity, leaving behind crackles of red.
Sweat ran down his face as he breathed hard, trying to catch his breath. Sparks ran through and clung at his flesh body just beneath the armor, stinging at his wet skin and feathers. He felt his muscles ripple under the suit, clenching from disuse and yet ready to act at any moment, unyielding. He slowly inhaled the crisp air, filling his lungs with calmness and control, relaxing himself. Stray droplets of water hung on his face and metal suit, leaving small trails as they ran down the silver and crimson steel.
He relished the feeling of strength, of youth, of overwhelming power. He felt as if he could take on the entire world with nothing but sheer will and might. The world was nothing but a pebble under his clawed talons. The use of the Sword satiated his thirst almost every night for years, whetting his appetite to do it all over again the next available night. Even with the risk of overwhelming himself with powerful emotions and insomnia, it wasn't enough for him to retreat from the accursed Sword.
It was an amazing sensation. It freed him from his overwhelming thoughts, his fears, his reservations and earthly worries. He could do anything in this form, and nothing limited him. He wished he could live in this armor until the end of time, traveling the world as he once did with Finch, but now on his own terms.
Imposing his will on others, subjugating entire governments to their knees, climbing the highest mountains he was once afraid of, enduring the never-ending lightning rain with ease, finding the impossible treasures his grandmother failed to achieve.
To prove her wrong, that he was no weakling.
A weakling. No. He was never weak. He only thought himself weak after enduring years of people telling him he was. He held a hidden strength inside him, an inner strength, one that he never realized within himself through years of self-hatred.
The Sword had chosen him for a reason, and he realized only a few years ago what that strength was. It was quiet strength that allowed him to survive years of trauma and the memories associated with it. It allowed him to endure others' burning glances and words with grace, as well as keeping his distance from others. It allowed him to stay in the shadows, waiting for his chance to strike at the opportune moment.
His inner strength was resilience. No matter what happens, whoever or whatever tries to stop him, whatever trials may and have come, he survived and will survive. The scars inside him still bled, but he continued onward, the pain pushing him to keep going for the sake of his younger self inside, a child who deserved better and will be rewarded for his heartache and patience.
His strength was not physical, it was not external. But now, the Sword showed who he really was on the inside. A version of himself that he could only dream of as a child. A more idealized self. His true, inner strength finally transformed into something physical.
This is who he really was. And he was remarkable.
He brought a claw closer to his face, watching it slightly tremble under the slowly revolving, faint light of the lighthouse. He sneered, baring his fangs in rage. No matter what he did, how much practice it took to bring this suit, his own body under control with pure will, he still couldn't control his own actions, his body spasms- his lecherous feeling of fear in the pit of his stomach that still lingered in the background, reminiscent of his trauma and stress when dealing with a dangerous situation.
He clenched his fist tight, his face contorted in contempt. He knew he could be stronger. He felt it. But something was holding him back, no matter how much practice he put into himself. If he wanted to protect April, to not repeat his near misses years ago, he couldn't afford any weaknesses from himself.
Curse Finch for making him into this. A frightened old man, often scared of his own shadow. If he wanted to avoid the mistakes he made years ago, he needed to do better. To control himself, no matter what.
The city may be quiet for now, but he needed the feeling of power over his life, over April's safety, to know he's doing the most he could for her. Nothing major had happened ever since he took up the Sword, but he could never know where danger may come from. A habit picked up from his time adventuring. Everything and anything could be a threat, something both he and Beakley taught to his little girl.
He needed to train harder, strike better, will his nerves. Nothing could be left to chance.
Bradford grabbed the hilt with both hands and charged the stones with a scream, jumping off the cliff and lunging at them with rage, trying to cut them all into pieces. But the Sword barely made a dent in the larger ones. He continued, gritting in frustration, kicking and punching the stones in anger.
Scrooge McDuck used to speak often about family, about being tougher, sharper, and making his way square.
What a joke.
What had family ever done for him? Bring nothing but heartache and loss. Family stifled his potential, endangered him, disowned him. Betrayed him. He may see April as his own, but she could never be truly his no matter how he convinced himself. That he knew well enough. He wouldn't have been so weak to his emotions, he would've separated himself from her for her sake several times over the years…but he couldn't.
Scrooge McDuck lost his own family due to his own failures. Ignored them for his own ambitions, threw them under his overly expensive limo. He should not be allowed to lecture anyone what family is about.
Tougher? Scrooge did all the same dirty work as hundreds of other adventurers and gold-seekers did during his time.
Sharper? No. He was no smarter than most other clueless businessmen who needed to report to a board for guidance and tell him what to do.
Work his way square? This was the most egregious one of them all. Scrooge stole his gold, his treasures from ancient civilizations, woken up dangerous creatures and forced an entire economic empire to work under him at less than minimum wage. He was as much a dirty capitalist as any billionaire, perhaps even worse. At least Bradford can say he never felt comfortable with his grandmother stealing the precious treasures of other civilizations and burying them in her basement for only her own selfish satisfaction. He only earned his profits off of buying and selling stock and bonds, as well as other purely capitalist means. Not stolen profits or treasures that belong with their cultures or safely in a museum for others to learn from.
He slashed at the last of the rocks in the vicinity and landed on his clawed feet, breathing heavily. He sheathed the Sword to his hip, a specially made leather he crafted himself to keep the Sword secure on him as he moved in this form.
He walked back to the center of camp where he hung his bag on a tree. He was exhausted from several nights insomnia, but the suit always knew how to energize him no matter how many hours he slept.
He retrieved from his bag a drink of cold water and a towel to pat down his wet brow and cheeks. He wiped his beak down, blew his nose loudly, and let out a few hacking coughs. He raised his eyes up and saw the sun was just starting to rise from between the clouds from across the harbor. He needed to get home before April realized he was gone.
He felt something suddenly nettling him from the back of his head, and he quickly turned his head back up towards the cliff. No one there, but he could've sworn he heard a rustle. Must've been a wild animal, but he was apprehensive.
He'd need to be more careful next time. If any living person would see him like this, then there would've been worse fates for them than what he'd bring them.
I wanted to add the last chapters as I've had most of it done already.
So that's the end yep! The form Bradford takes with the Sword I like to call the Red Vulture, almost like a Batman persona. To hide his identity, he'd use a mask conjured up by the suit.
I had ideas to continue, but if there is anything in the future of this AU it may be oneshots.
This fic is the longest I've written so far. I started it while I was still in grad school, got the idea from a discord mutual as we discussed how unfair Bradford's end was. I loved pairing villains with babies and being a dad (plus Bradford looked a lot like many of my other fictional crushes) and cest la vie. I've since graduated and had a few jobs already in the field, and as of this writing I've been three years with my fictional husbando (three guesses as to who).
I've had losses and gains (mostly therapy), but mostly my interest in this character has got me thinking on a different level than I was then.
If anyone here is coming from my old tumblr, just know I've abandoned it and not sure if I'll come and return to it, especially if I missed many messages and pings, same goes for my discord. I'm sorry if I missed any messages that were important. I wish there was a message system on here, but if you want to connect with me, let me know in the comments. Thank youuu