Chapter 14: Not the Same Duck Anymore
Duke shot up from his bed during the early morning hours of Puck World's long, dark night, sweating in a dazed panic. The nightmare still replaying and fresh in his mind was that of Henna and Falcone drugging him, holding him down, and Henna mounting him as he struggled to maintain consciousness. All he could think of in that moment was that he had never been with a hen before and this was never how he expected his first time would go. He tried to shout, "Stop!" He tried to beg and plead, but the drugs had paralyzed his speech as much as they had his body. He remembered looking down at himself and what he saw happening to him. He had to close his eye tight and force back the tears threatening to spill over. He mounted every mental and physical defense he had to stop his body from responding to Henna's movements, but all he could feel was her and the drugs coursing through his veins.
Please, Drake DuCaine, if you can hear me...please get me out of this. Please.
Suddenly, he opened his eye for a moment and to his horror, he saw his one good, black eye staring back up at him. His own eye, blank and expressionless as he simultaneously stared at both the ceiling and what could only be described as his true consciousness. He saw her moving slowly and gracefully, almost gently to keep him both stimulated and under her own control. And he saw Falcone tightly holding his wrists above his head. Every few moments or so, Henna would reach forward for Falcone and kiss him over Duke as he just laid there...like a stiff, dead, duck. It was as if they didn't even know he was there, screaming inside of his own head.
Duke scrunched his eye shut once again and opened it to find Henna and Falcone kissing above him. He had returned to his body only to feel it disgustingly shutter and give out. And in that moment, he let out a stifled sob.
That was the last thing her remembered before Falcone let go of one of his wrists and then slammed his fist down into his temple, knocking him out completely.
Duke had not fully thought through or relived what had happened to him until tonight. This thing that was forced upon him that he now had to live with-live with forever. He looked over at Canard, still sound asleep in his cot, not even remotely stirred by Duke's tossing and turning.
How am I supposed to process this? How do I move on from this? I truly am not the same duck anymore. I have been used, violated, maimed–hurt. I am hurt.
A deep, throbbing pain began to swell between his legs and he tucked his knees up to his chest, hoping if he tightened his legs together, the pain would subside.
This is…this is awful. I feel so dirty. Maybe...maybe a shower would help? Yes, a nice hot shower. That's what I need.
Duke looked around the dark room, then quietly untangled himself from the bed and tip-toed over to the bathroom, slowly closing the door behind him. There was a full length mirror behind the door and he took a few minutes to stare at himself long and hard. The mallard was bruised all over and he had a few scratch marks slashed across his face from the encounter. He didn't look like a leader, he looked like street scum.
Shower, just take a shower and you will feel better.
Duke turned on the hottest shower of his life and stepped in, letting the water run down his feathers and seep into his down. As he stood in the shower, the broken thief leaned against the wall and closed his eye–allowing the grime and dirt he felt on him wash down the drain-although he knew he wasn't actually soiled. But soiled was certainly the only word that could best his current condition. It just wasn't coming off of him. He suddenly felt the need to scratch at his skin and force the dirt and sickness away. He wanted to feel raw, smooth, clean, clear–but no matter how much soap he lathered into his feathers or deep into his skin, he just couldn't get clean. He scratched and scratched and tore at himself, and yet, it did him no good.
You're panicking. You're having a panic attack. Duke had never felt such emotions before. He had always been in control of himself, even in the midst of the most dangerous heists. But now…now he was losing his mind and himself. He had lost himself to that thing.
If I let her have total control over me like this, even when I am not near her, she will always have the upper hand, he dreaded.
With that thought, he stopped scratching at himself and took a few calming breaths. He felt the hot mist from the shower enter his nostrils and fill his sinuses with warm humidity, calming and soothing his mind.
You've got a purpose, now. You are no longer Henna's plaything. You have your own destiny and that destiny is to take back the Brotherhood of the Blade, no matter what the cost, no matter how underhanded I have to be.
Suddenly, a grave and dark thought flashed across Duke's mind. I have to destroy that egg before it hatches. If Henna continues her lineage, more underworld ducks are bound to join her. Her strength would be limitless. Such a sign of strength would send signals across not just Puck City, but Puck World.
The drake slammed the tile wall of the shower with his fist in frustration. But, then again, that egg is my egg, too.
Steadying himself against the slippery shower stall, he slowly sunk to the floor, holding his hands to his eyes and forehead.
No, your job is to protect any member of the Brotherhood, including those who do not even know they are a part of it, yet. That egg is a Brother. That egg is my hatchling. And I…I'm its father. It may have been forged in one violent act, but I will not allow my chick to grow up in and around that same violence. Henna has to go, and I'm the only one who can do it.
At that moment, there were three rapping knocks at the bathroom door.
"Duke?" It was Canard.
"Yeah, kid. I'm here. Just needed a shower to calm my nerves. I'm okay."
"It's not that," Canard said from outside the bathroom. "Falcone is here to see you."
He sighed deeply in response then said, "I'll be right out!"
He shut off the water and gently picked his broken body off of the shower floor, grabbing a white towel from a hook on the way back up. Then, he shook himself and fluffed his feathers to dry himself off. He took another long moment to stare at himself in the full length mirror.
He felt a little better now, more at ease with his thoughts. At least, he felt more determined. As he watched himself, Duke thought that he indeed was a fine looking drake, despite all of the pain and suffering he had gone through.
You may never be the same Duck anymore, but…what did those goons say I was? A prince? The prince of the Brotherhood? No. I am no prince. But maybe, maybe I'm a Duke.