The Last True Hero
by Amanda Rohrssen
Chapter Three
Drake Mallard woke with the feel of the knife on his back clinging to him. He shivered, suddenly feeling very cold. He swung his feet over the edge of the couch and put his hands on his head. What a nightmare! He shivered again.
“Hey Drake, g’mornin’! Want some breakfast?” Launchpad smiled cheerily, holding up a sack from McDuckald’s.
Drake shook his head, trying to rid himself of the dream. Launchpad shrugged and walked into the kitchen. After sitting a few minutes more, Drake finally got up and poured himself a cup of coffee. His stomach rumbled insistently.
“Maybe I will have some breakfast,” he conceded, pouring himself a bowl of Rainbow Rings. “Thanks for getting up last night, LP. I know you probably would have rather been asleep than listening to the problems in my love life.”
“What are you talkin’ about, DW?” Launchpad looked at him from the table with his thoroughly confused face on that he so often wore.
“You know, my 2 a.m. chat with you last night? Nevermind, you were probably too groggy to remember.” He plopped down in the chair next to his sidekick and sighed, clearly exhausted. “LP…you remember stopping Moliarty a couple of days ago, right?”
Launchpad raised an eyebrow.
“You know, we heard a call on the police radio and spotted that gaping hole in the middle of downtown St. Canard…?” Drake trailed off as the pilot’s gaze turned from confusion to concern.
“Uh, DW…a couple of nights ago we sat right here watching Whose Quack is it Anyway? remember? Because you said there was no use in listening to the radio anymore because there hadn’t been any crime in weeks.”
Drake’s face dropped, clearly puzzled. Launchpad shrugged. Drake slurped his cereal.
“I-I don’t know. Maybe you dreamt it, DW. I mean, dreams can seem awful real.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right, LP. Anyway, I checked out the crime scene yesterday, and there was nothing there. Just an empty lot. No hole, no Moliarty, no clues. Nothing!” He sighed heavily. “Maybe it was just a dream. I have been having strange ones lately…” He shivered, once again feeling the cold smooth hardness of the razor on his back.
“Outta the way! Hungry hockey player coming through!” Gosalyn bellowed as she burst through the kitchen doors, decked out in her roller hockey gear. She skated over to the stove, then frowned. “No pancakes?! Oh well, I’ll just grab a few cookies for the road!”
Just as she was about to shove her hand in the cookie jar, her father’s hand slammed the lid down.
“Hold it right there, little missy! No cookies for breakfast. Here,” he threw her an Egg McMallard from the McDuckald’s sack, “this oughta tide you over for the big game!”
“Are you coming, Pop?” she asked as she unwrapped the sandwich.
“If I survive apologizing to Morgana.”
“What’d you do this time?” she rolled her eyes.
“I don’t know, I never know! She’s just-"
A horn blared from the street, and Gosalyn shoved the rest of her breakfast into her beak.
“Bye Launchpad, bye Dad!” she shouted, crumbs spraying in all directions.
“Good luck!”
“Bye Gos!” called Launchpad as the front door slammed shut.
The Ratcatcher hummed rhythmically as Darkwing sat idle in front of Morgana McCawber’s house. One hand drummed the steering console while the other fingered the ring box in his suit pocket as he repeated what he wanted to say over and over in his head. He sighed, not sure he could do this right. He always seemed to make her mad one way or another.
“Dark?” A warm, low voice purred beside him, startling him from his thoughts.
“Morgana! I…I…I- oh boy.” His eyes fell to the pavement as all of what he’d rehearsed flew from his mind.
Morgana’s arms were folded and her lips were pursed as she waited expectantly.
“Why are you sitting in front of my house? The least you could do is come in and apologize to me properly.”
He slid off of the motorcycle with a grimace. This wasn’t going to be easy.
“Look, Morgana, I- I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking-“
“That’s right, you weren’t thinking! You never think about me, just-“
“I lost track of time. It’s not that I don’t care about you, I just get so wrapped up in crime fighting that I forget about what’s really important to me.”
She considered this silently, her finger tapping heatedly against the arm it gripped.
“Inside,” she ordered, her voice tight. “Now.”
They began walking toward her house, avoiding each other’s eyes.
“It was my fault I was late, Morgana. I wanted to be there, I really did. It’s just that…well, crime fighting is all I know.”
He opened the door for her then followed her into the gloom encompassing the interior of her home. When they reached the living room, they sat on opposite ends of the couch, still on edge with each other. The awkward silence lasted for moments that passed like days. Darkwing eyed her hopefully and began to sweat.
“Look, Morgana. I don’t mean to make you upset. I just- I just don’t know what to do or say sometimes…and it always ends up wrong. But I love you. And no matter what problems we may have in the future, I know we can work them out. I can learn to get used to your family and your way of doing things…it just might take me awhile…a long while.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she questioned indignantly, her eyes flickering and her arms folded.
“Well, they’re just so…different. But in a good way!” he flustered as her face grew darker. “Oh boy. I’ve done it again. I didn’t mean it like that!” He waved his hands frantically as she started to rise. “I love you because of your differences, Morgana, not despite them!”
She stopped and sank back into her seat, turning this over in her mind. He sighed with relief as the corners of her mouth lifted slightly. Seizing his chance, he moved to her side of the couch and knelt in front of her, gazing into her deep black eyes pitifully.
“Will you forgive me?”
Morgana looked at him helplessly. “How can I stay mad at my little honeywumpus?” she crooned, cupping his cheeks in her hands.
He beamed lovingly and seized her hand. “Morgana, you mean everything to me, and I want to be with you every day of my life.”
From his pocket slid the ring box, and he popped it open with a click. A dazzling sparkle emerged from a delicate diamond set on a thin band of shimmering gold. Morgana’s eyes filled with tears as she gazed at the engagement ring.
“Morgana Cauldrona McCawber…will you marry me?”
He looked into her eyes longingly and she gave a small smile.
“Oh, Dark!” She threw her arms around him and kissed him full on the beak, taking his breath away. “I will! I will!” she cried as he returned her embrace.
“Oh, Morgana,” he sighed, “you’ve made me the luckiest duck in the world.”
“Yeah, heh, heh, heh, heh,” chuckled a nasal voice from the shadowy hallway. “What a shame it’s bad luck, aye Darkwing? Heh, heh, heh. Aw, ain’t that sweet?” the voice continued tauntingly as Darkwing rose between it and Morgana.
The crime fighter aimed a cold glare toward the tall, robust figure leaning lazily against the doorframe.
“Steelbeak. How did you get in here?”
“Aw, gimme a break, do I gotta spell it out for ya? I followed ya.” He shrugged, an evil grin spreading across his metal jaws. “And now…” he snapped his fingers, calling forth hordes of Eggmen from the darkness.
Darkwing struck a heroic pose, as he shoved the ring box back into his pocket.
“All right, Steelbeak…let’s get dangerous!”
Steelbeak emerged from the darkness, his beak glinting in the light.
“Get ‘im boys! Bring me the girl.”
“Darkwing! Help!” cried Morgana as two Eggmen grabbed her around the waist. He whipped around and grabbed her wrists, desperately trying to pull her free. They clung to each other as more Eggmen surrounded them on all sides and tried to pull them apart. As their hands began to slip, they looked into each other’s eyes imploringly.
“I love you, Dark,” Morgana whispered, barely audible.
“Right back at you, Morg,” he replied in a voice tight with sorrow.
Their grip tightened, slipped, then was gone. Morgana was hurtled toward the broad-chested rooster, who swept her into his arm in one fluid motion.
“Rest in pieces, Darkwing Doofus!” he called over his shoulder, Morgana struggling to free herself of the muscular arm around her waist.
Outside of the front door, a rope ladder was lowered from a jet and Steelbeak grabbed hold with his free hand. It was raised slowly, taking both Morgana and Steelbeak into the plane’s belly.
Darkwing swiveled in all directions, kicking and punching off any Eggman who dared to get close. But as they swarmed around him they proved too much, and the sea of white helmets and yellow uniforms overtook him.
“Well, Sweetcheeks,” crowed Steelbeak from the maroon cushioned first class seat next to an unresponsive Morgana.
She glowered at him and crossed her arms.
“Why don’t you dump that Darkwing Dope and get a real man?” He slid his arm around her shoulders.
She shrank away, as if his feathers were covered in slime.
“Find me a real man and I might,” she muttered, still fixing a steady glare into his suave, conniving face.
“Why you-“ He raised his hand as if to strike her, but thought better of it. “Clever,” he said smoothly. “Let’s make a deal.”
“What kind of deal?” she asked, her voice cold as ice. She rose and languidly stolled toward the window across the aisle and looked out over the streets of St. Canard, getting an idea. Abruptly, she turned and faced him.
“You give me some information, and I won’t throw you out of the plane,” he replied matter-of-factly.
As she listened, she began turning various objects on the roads into pudding from behind her back and tried to keep Steelbeak’s attention focused on her face. That should leave an obvious enough trail for Darkwing to follow!
“What about Darkwing?” She furrowed her brow.
“All right, all right. I’ll stop my Eggmen from destroying your boyfriend, too.” He held up a radio transmitter and smiled cunningly. “Unless, of course, he’s not already dead. Heh, heh, heh, heh,” he chortled as if he’d told some clever joke.
“What if I refuse?” she challenged, wishing she could punch him in the face. She knew she was no match for his muscle, however.
“Then you get to join Darkwing in the afterlife!”
“How do I know you won’t kill me after I’ve told you?”
“You don’t, that’s the beauty of it! Ain’t like you got a choice anyway. So what’s it gonna be, Dollface?”
Air shot out of Darkwing’s lungs as he was slammed into the wall front first. Gasping, he collapsed into a heap. The Eggmen crowded around him, enveloping him in shadow, preparing to attack yet again. Grudgingly, he rose, still facing the wall, steadying himself with both hands. He tensed, waiting to be pounced on…but nothing came. Cringing, he turned and a disturbing sight met his defeated gaze. The room was empty.
“There, I told you what you wanted to know. Now what about Darkwing?” Morgana demanded, her eyes pleading and red with tears.
“What about him? My Eggmen took care of him a while ago, but hey, thanks for the info, babe! You were a lot more helpful than the pilot and the girl.”
“No! No, not my Dark!” She sprang from her seat and aimed both hands at him threateningly.
“Whoa, hey Dollface, heh, heh, heh. What’re ya gonna do, scratch me to death? Heh, heh, heh, heh!” he cackled, not knowing she was a witch.
“And what about letting me go like you promised?” she asked, her voice full of warning. “What’re you talkin’ about? I just said I wouldn’t push you outta the plane! Heh, heh, heh, heh!” he laughed so hard tears began to form on the corners of his tall, pointed eyes.
Anger and despair filled her face as realization took hold. He had used her, and she had fallen for it. A burning heat filled her face and fingertips, and she threw her arms toward the hysterical rooster, magic bursting toward him in a fury of color.
Nothing. Steelbeak lounged unchanged in his airline seat, a grin spread across his pinched face, but there was no more laughter in his eyes.
“That stuff don’t work on me, Sweetcheeks,” he said, his voice filled with menace.
She lowered her arms, crushed. What was she going to do now?
“But there is one more thing you can do for me babe.”
She glanced up at him, fear and hatred filling her eyes.
“What’s that?”
The form that was Steelbeak melted away into a long shape of golden liquid. Morgana froze in terror.
“Scream,” it replied as it burst and pelted her face and body. She felt it seep through her skin, filling her, and taking control…then knew no more.