Chapter Six: Falcone
The next morning, Duke woke up to a knock on his door followed by a familiar voice through the intercom. "Duke, babe, you got practice in ten minutes! Chop chop. Time is money!"
"Yeah, yeah, Phil, I'm up, I'm up," replied Duke groggily. He lethargically rose from his bed and made his way to the bathroom. Picking up one of his many expensive hair brushes and picks, he quickly combed his through his long hair, enough to make it look like he hadn't just risen from bed. Then, he put on some sweatpants and a shirt and made his way to the locker rooms above their secret layer. When Duke walked in to the locker room, he found the rest of his teammates already assembling their hockey attire.
Wildwing was the first to look up at him and say, "Hey, Duke. Late night?"
"Yeah, just exploring the town in its after hours," he replied, clearing his raspy—still sleepy—voice.
"See anything exciting?" Nosedive asked while he was lacing up his skates on the bench in front of Duke.
"Nah, just the usual human nightlife."
"Come on guys, we are already late for practice. Let's hit the ice!" said a disgruntled Mallory.
"Ice waits for no man," Grin said, reciting one of the many quips he had learned during his time with Master Tea-Quack-do.
They all exited the locker room and out into the ice arena. Duke swiftly strapped on his hockey gear, then pulled on his uniform pants and jersey. Finally, he laced his skates in record time and was able to join in the game without them even noticing he wasn't there for the first few minutes.
The practice seemed a little more aggressive this morning; as if the jewel heist from the night before had put everyone on edge. Even bumbling Tanya managed to tag Nosedive against the boards. Duke, swift and cunning as ever managed to steal the puck away from Mallory, who glared at him from the sides of her helmet. He immediately wished he hadn't taken the puck. Up ahead was the goal and Wildwing was goalie for their teams of three-versus-three. He had the puck lined up, aimed, when, BAM! Out of nowhere, Mallory came up behind him and knocked the slender drake over with full force, stealing the puck and scoring a goal in Grin's net.
"Hey, hey, hey! Mallory, I like the enthusiasm, but I can't have you injure one of our best players before a big game!" Phil shouted from the grandstand seats.
"Well I'm sorry Phil, but I play to win!" Mallory shouted in Phil's direction, still skating in victorious figures of eight.
"It's fine, Phil, I'm sturdier than I look," Duke said, slowly picking himself off the ice. Nosedive skated over and put a gentle arm underneath Duke's to help balance him. "Thanks little, buddy."
"No problem, Dukes-ster," he replied and skated back to his starting position.
As the rest of the ducks lined up for the next play, Duke could see under Mallory's mask that she was agitated beyond her usual level of disgust. Better stay clear of her on these next plays, he thought.
Mallory dropped the puck in the center and Nosedive managed to break it away, passing it to Duke. Duke skated toward Wildwing's goal with everything he had, his legs cramping and his feet pinching in his newer skates—curtesy of Phil and his sponsorships. Once he was within firing range, he noticed Tanya had managed to keep up with him and he wasn't able to break away for a clear shot. But wait, Nosedive was open!
"Dive!" Duke shouted and he passed the puck as accurately as he possibly could to Nosedive, just narrowly missing Tanya's stick. Nosedive lined up for the shot, blasted it away, and…no, didn't go in. Wildwing was just too good of a goalie. Nosedive let out a sign of disappointment, but before the team could discuss what they could have done better, Nosedive's wrist comm began to alarm.
"Mighty Ducks! We take a knockin' and keep rockin'. You've got the Dive Live!"
Duke rolled his eyes, but skated over to listen in. A picture of a disgruntled Captain Klegghorn appeared on Nosedive's comm. All the ducks leaned in for a closer look.
"It's Klegghorn. Remember that ruby the lizards tried to steal?"
"Yeah, yeah, so?" interrupted Nosedive.
"Someone stole it! Last night!"
"Ew, those creepa-sori didn't wait long to come back, did they?"
"Unless it wasn't the creepa-sori. YOU weren't here last night, DUKE!" said, Mallory, turning to face him and pointing her finger right in his face.
"Yeah, and neither was most of Anaheim. Are you going to accuse them too?" Duke sputtered.
"Hey, no one is accusing you of anything, okay?" interjected Wildwing, calm and collected as ever. "But, just for the record, where were you last night?"
"Out!" spat Duke in anger. He skated away, not wanting to even remotely endure anyone on his team. His embarrassment and frustration was beginning to reach a level he had never experienced with his team. There was nothing he could say or do to convince them that he had nothing to do with the jewel thefts. But, he also wasn't about to reveal where he was last night, either.
Later that evening Duke, Wildwing, Mallory, and Nosedive accompanied Klegghorn to the museum to inspect the scene of the robbery. Upon entering the disheveled room, Duke immediately noted how sloppy the heist had been. There was broken glass everywhere, and walls and tapestries torn to shreds, as if by claw marks—or a sharp blade.
"Definitely done by a blade," Wildwing proclaimed and he stood up from inspecting a door that was shredded to splinters.
"Like a sword," jabbed Mallory, turning to face Duke.
"Unbelievable," Duke murmured, stepping away from the others to examine the rest of the room. As he scanned for any trace of who or what could perform such a careless raid, his eye focused on a familiar feather underneath a display table. He leaned down on one knee and gently felt the beige, soft pin feather. There was no doubt about it: it belonged to Falcone. Duke stood up and pierced his saber through the feather and picked it up to show the others.
"I know who did this!" Duke said over the others who were discussing possible suspects. "I found this on the floor. It belongs to Falcone."
"Who?" asked Nosedive.
"He was in the Brotherhood of the Blade, the mob I ran back on Puckworld," Duke replied.
"Well, then how did he get here?" Mallory probed, more irritated now than she had been all day.
"Dragaunus must have brought him here!"
"Well, let's go get this bird!" Nosedive enthusiastically piped in.
"There's only one way to get to him," Duke mumbled, more to himself than to the rest of his teammates.
The ride back to the Pond in the migrator was very awkward. Everyone was silent. Nosedive didn't even dare to turn on the radio. Mallory, though driving, would occasionally glance back a Duke, as if to be sure he was still there. Once they were home, Mallory, Nosedive, and Wildwing all began to walk down the halls towards Drake One, but Duke decided to head back to his chambers.
"You're not coming?" Wildwing asked.
"Nah, I've got some thinking to do," Duke replied.
"Well, alright. But we need to talk strategy soon," Wildwing said, as he peeled off DuCiane's heavy golden mask from his face.
"I will, just give me a few moments."
Back in his chambers, Duke sat on his bed, his head resting in both his hands. Tilting his head from side-to-side as if he had a headache, he remembered how Falcone and Duke had first met many years ago, when Duke was barely older than a hatchling.
Contrary to popular belief, there were other avian aliens in the universe, and some did indeed live on Puckworld. However, it had always been a mystery as to how Falcone came to Puckworld. But as far as he could tell, Falcone was a young stowaway on a cargo ship from another avian-inhabited world. Duke never bothered to ask that fateful day he stumbled upon the sniveling, cowardly bird. Duke was playing street hockey with some of his fellow street-ducks when he heard some mysterious sobbing coming from a dark alleyway. He put down his stick and skated over to the sound to find a falcon-looking boy crouched underneath a cardboard box, crying and hungry.
"Hey, kid. What are you doing out here alone?" Duke asked. The bird looked up at Duke, but didn't respond. Instead, he continued to sob, louder than before, and shoved his face into his hands.
"Hey, hey, kid, I'm not here to hurt you. Why don't you come with me back to my place and we can find you some food? Would you like that?" Duke said as gently as possible. The little bird looked up at him and nodded pathetically. Duke held out his hand and helped up the little eyass.
He must be in some serious trouble, or maybe shock? Maybe his parents abandoned him, like mine? Duke thought to himself as they walked to the Brotherhood's secret layer in silence.
Through dark and narrow streets, the pair creeped hand-in hand. Duke occasionally would stop suddenly, look around, then and listen with his keen ears to make sure no one was following them. Finally, they arrived at a dilapidated, boarded up building that appeared to have no way in. Duke looked up and held out a hand to his new mate.
"You're going to have to trust me," Duke said quietly. The falcon did little more than nod quickly as he put his arm around the drake. Duke aimed his grappling hook at an open third floor window of the building and fired it effortlessly. He held on tighter to the falcon as they were swiftly lifted off the ground and to the window. Within seconds, they landed safely inside a dimly lit, small bedroom.
"Henna? Henna? I'm home and I've brought a new friend," cried Duke. Suddenly, the door to the room opened to reveal a scruffy looking crew of drakes of all different species. And in the middle of them, was their leader, Henna. She was a radiant duck, white as snow with black feathers painting her large, black eyes. Her beak was polished black and she had a ruby drilled into one of her nostril holes. She smiled gently when she saw Duke and the other bird.
"Why, what have we here?" she said softly. "A visitor? And…not a duck but a falcon? How quaint."
"Yes, Miss Henna. He was cold and hungry and alone. I thought maybe…" Duke sputtered. But before he could finish his sentence, Henna flashed an ignited duck saber and struck Duke in his right eye. The duckling screamed in agony as he crumpled to the ground and clutched at his bleeding eye.
"You fool! A non-duck? How are we supposed to hide him?" she yelled as she picked Duke off the ground by his jacket and held him up to her eye level. "He sticks out like a sore blood feather! How many ducks have already seen him? Where did he come from? Is he a spy? Does he belong to another mob? YOU DON'T KNOW!" Henna roared in the little, sobbing duck's face.
"I'm…I'm sorry Miss Henna. I didn't think…" cried Duke.
"Exactly, you didn't think. Just like your father. You little fool," she quacked.
"You want us to dispose of the little bird?" said one of Henna's ducks. The falcon looked up and also began to shriek with terror as another drake grabbed him by the neck and began to pull him towards the door.
"No, he knows too much. We will just have to train him, make him our own. He won't be able to go out except at night. We will make him a Brother, but we will train him harder. Push him more so as to ensure he never gets caught and leads the Puckpolice back to us," replied Henna.
"Yes ma'am", said the duck holding the falcon. He gruffly picked up the child and led him away to the kitchens. Henna, still holding a shocked Duke by his collar gently put him down.
"You listen here, Duke. I didn't take you in because you were your father's son. No, I expected more from you. I've taught you to have no mercy—to watch out for only yourself and the Brotherhood. You have betrayed our trust. Now, you will wear your shame," Henna hissed and stomped out of the room.
Duke, still in unbearable pain, curled up on the floor next to the window he had just scaled and slowly drifted into unconsciousness from the blood loss. He didn't notice one of Henna's henchmen gently pick him up off the floor and take him to the kitchens below. There, he laid Duke on a table, taking care to prop his head up with a soft pillow made from down. The duck started a hot fire in the boiler and found sharp knife, which he held over the flames. Skillfully and meticulously, he extracted what was left of Duke's eyeball, cauterizing the vein endings to stop the bleeding. Then, the sympathetic duck slowly began the gruesome task of sewing the young mallard's eyelid shut—forever.