The Last True Hero
by Amanda Rohrssen
Chapter Four
“What’s going on here?!” Darkwing shrieked incredulously. The place had been crawling with Eggmen not two seconds ago! He pinched himself and jumped with pain. It was no dream. He rubbed his head, desperately trying to make sense of this new development and the past few days. “Well,” he resolved, still bewildered, “I may be going out of my mind, but at least I can still save Morgana!”
He sprinted from the stormy lot as lightening flashed ominously. Once through the gate and on his motorcycle, the sun beat on his back mercilessly. “I think I liked it better inside,” he mumbled, sweat stinging his eyes as he revved up the engine and tore down the street, searching for any sign of Steelbeak.
About a mile down DeSpell Lane, something caught Darkwing’s eye.
“Ah ha!” he shouted and screeched to a halt. He vaulted off of the Ratcatcher and whipped out his magnifying glass, satisfaction radiating from his feathered features. “The powerful protagonist prowls potholes and paths, his professional probing leading him to a particular puddle.”
It was a miniscule drop of jet fuel. He smelled it deeply and gagged. “Hexxon. Clearly the brand that F.O.W.L. uses,” he mused and looked into the distance, smoke from the jet’s engines disappearing rapidly into the blinding sunlight. “Now to find Morgana!” He lifted his leg, preparing to mount the Ratcatcher. “Ready or not, Beak Lips, here I come.”
Just as he was about to lift himself up, the earth shook violently, throwing him to the ground. He landed with a grunt and considered the cause of the tremors with a feathered hand propped under his bill. “Either Moliarty started up his Quake-o-matic again, or…”
“Hi, Mr. Darkwing!”
“…I’m having another nightmare.”
“Whatcha doin’?” a childlike voice asked curiously from behind him. Darkwing turned, a grimace spread on his face. In front of him stood a dinosaur with a mop of fiery red hair and brown pants hanging loosely from his scaly legs. His eyes sparkled with innocence, and a tiny hint of a smile flickered about his lips. Darkwing rolled his eyes. This was not what he needed right now!
“Playing mechanic, what’s it look like?!” he exclaimed.
“Actually, Mr. Darkwing, it looked like you fell off your bike,” the dinosaur replied without hesitating.
Darkwing slapped a hand over his face and groaned as he stood up.
“Look, Stegmutt, I’d love to stay, but-“
“Ooo, boy! You wanna play in this yummy mud with me?”
Stegmutt had found the chocolate pudding. Darkwing, however, didn’t even glance at the unusual brown gobs scattered down the street.
“No can do, I’m on a case!” he said hurriedly, climbing onto his motorcycle.
Stegmutt’s face fell, making the duck shift guiltily in his seat.
“I’ll play with you after I’m done, Steggers. I promise.”
“Ooo, boy! Thanks, Mr. Darkwing!” cried Stegmutt, overjoyed at the prospect of having a playmate. He splashed around in the pudding as if it were a swimming pool.
Darkwing revved his engine with a flourish and floored the gas. It wasn’t until his motorcycle spun out of control on some of the slippery brown goo that Darkwing was aware that the city didn’t look as it should. Here and there numerous buildings, cars, streetlamps, and fire hydrants had been turned into pudding! As the Ratcatcher circled wildly toward one of the buildings that hadn’t been hit, Darkwing leapt from it and landed with a splat into a large chocolate hydrant. He was barely visible under the layers of pudding. He gasped for breath and spat out the slimy goo with disgust. He still thought it was mud. Stegmutt put a finger to his lips.
“I thought you didn’t wanna play right now.”
Darkwing groaned and rolled his eyes for the second time, smacking his lips distastefully, until he had a revelation.
“Hold the phone! This isn’t mud, it’s pudding!”
He sprang to his feet. Stegmutt grinned.
“Ooo, boy! Even better!”
He began shoveling as much of the chocolate into his mouth as would fit. Darkwing took off down the street following the pudding trail and leaving his useless bike in a heap.
“I’m coming, Morgana!” he called reassuringly, though he knew she couldn’t hear him.
“Goodbye, Mr. Darkwing!” yelled Stegmutt merrily, pudding dribbling down his scaly cheeks.
Darkwing waved a hand over his head and disappeared around a corner.
“Watch where you’re going, Mack!” a large-gaited woman grated in a voice filled with loathing. Darkwing, who’d been thrown flat on his back after crashing into her, felt his eyes widen considerably. When was he going to get a break?!
“Ammonia Pine! I thought F.O.W.L. sent you out to dry after the last caper I stopped you from.”
“Ha, ha!” she squawked loudly. “Hardly, hon. I’m back and ready to scrub the scum from this town! Starting with you!” She whacked him across the chest with her mop, sending him sprawling into a building. “Ha, ha!” she blared as she climbed atop the largest street sweeper Darkwing had ever seen. “Now, Dirtwing, I’m gonna dump you like all the other garbage in St. Canard!”
The machine rumbled to life, its gigantic circular broom aimed right at him. He gulped, then got an idea.
“Hey, Ammonia! There’s a nasty pudding spill down-“
“Too late to pull that, hon! I already cleaned it up! And now it’s your turn.”
Darkwing glanced down the street behind her. It was true! She had cleaned up the rest of Morgana’s trail…but she hadn’t cleaned the road behind him! Leaping to his feet, he tore down the street and back around the corner with Ammonia close behind, her street sweeper whirling threateningly.
“You can’t escape me, Dripwing! You’re all washed- Ah!” she squealed as the horrendous sight of chocolate pudding covering the street met her eyes. “Forget High Command! I must clean!”
She sped past Darkwing and frantically began scrubbing the sidewalks. Darkwing smiled and went on his way until a terrified shriek tore through the air.
“Ah! A dinosaur!”
He froze in mid-step. Stegmutt!
He reeled around and raced after the cleaning machine, hoping to get to Stegmutt before it did. Explosive pops and screeching hisses met his ears. Not hardly believing what he was hearing, Darkwing slowed to a stop and stared at the sweeper. It sank onto its side, the tires completely drained of air, and there under the tires, was Stegmutt’s tail. Darkwing’s face filled with desperate sorrow and he made his way around the damaged vehicle to find his friend. Rather than finding a lifeless form, however, the crime fighter’s eyes met a trembling mass of scales.
“Stegmutt!” he cried.
“Is it gone, Mr. Darkwing?” asked the terrified dinosaur, his hands covering his eyes.
Darkwing smiled and shook his head. The spikes on Stegmutt’s tail had popped all of the tires on Ammonia’s sweeper and disabled it.
“No, Stegmutt. You stopped it all by yourself.”
“I did?” he inquired incredulously. Cautiously, he removed his hands and looked behind him, then grinned. “I did, didn’t I?”
“I haven’t turned my mop in yet!” a raucous voice rasped from on top of the sweeper.
Without warning, the engine re-started and the large broom twirled rapidly, catching Stegmutt’s tail and sucking him under the vehicle! The tires gyrated free of the limp rubber and sparks flew from the axles as the sweeper spun wildly out of control, pitching Ammonia from her seat and in front of Darkwing. As she rose reluctantly, Darkwing whipped out his gas gun.
“Suck gas, evil doer!” he said valiantly.
Just as he triggered it, Ammonia jerked out her bubble gun and trapped the gas pellet inside a translucent bubble. She laughed maniacally and pulled a plunger from her cleaning jacket.
“Oooo, nice plunger. Are you gonna unclog my sinuses?” Darkwing smirked.
Ammonia grinned as she pushed a button on the end of the plunger, revealing an extremely sharp knife in the center of the rubber cup. Darkwing gulped as she shoved it into the gun and aimed right for him. She cackled, her finger poised on the trigger. Suddenly, a loud scraping sound filled the air and Ammonia turned in time to catch a glimpse of the out-of-control sweeper barreling down on her before she was sucked under its bristles with Stegmutt. Darkwing dove just as the machine whirled past him. With a sigh of relief, he regained his feet and ran toward his dilapidated motorcycle. He pushed it across the slick street until it glided straight toward the sweeper’s brush. With a thunderous crunch, the Ratcatcher was crushed between the axles and the circular broom, causing the machine to overheat. Fire and smoke sprayed from it in all directions until it erupted into a multitude of firework-like explosions. Both Ammonia and Stegmutt flew from the fireball and landed in a heap beside each other. Darkwing removed a rope from his suit, securely tied Ammonia, and began dragging her down the street. Stegmutt sat up stiffly and moaned.
“It’s all right, Steggers. You can go back to playing in the pudding now!” Darkwing called reassuringly.
Stegmutt’s eyes lit up. “Ooo, boy! Thanks, Mr. Darkwing!”
“Ugh,” Darkwing wheezed as he gripped the rope more tightly, “Good thing SHUSH is just around the corner!”
BAM! The wooden double doors burst open revealing Darkwing and his prisoner, still unconscious and tied. J. Gander Hooter, director of SHUSH, jumped from his leather chair, his eyes wide with concern.
“Who are you? What are you doing in here? And who’s that?” he pointed toward Ammonia, his expression not belying his confusion.
“It’s me, J. Gander, Darkwing Duck! I’ve collected another agent of F.O.W.L. for imprisonment- Ammonia Pine!”
“Never heard of you. You’ll have to check in up front, only authorized personnel are allowed back here,” he paused. “How did you get back here?”
“The same way I always do, J. Gander!” Darkwing frowned. “Don’t you know me? The mighty masked mallard? The terror that flaps in the night?”
“Well…you do look a bit familiar…that long beak…the shape of your eyes…”
Suddenly the diminutive goose raced behind his desk and hit the intercom button. “Guards!” he shouted shrilly into the mouthpiece, “To the director’s office immediately!”
Darkwing froze, panic-stricken. “J. Gander…it’s me!!” he shouted incredulously.
“Yes, I know it’s you. You won’t get away this time, Negaduck! You’ve fooled me for the last time with your gaudy disguises!”
“But J. Gander-“
“Clever of you to bring in one of your own, but I’m afraid your foul scheme didn’t work this time.”
Throngs of SHUSH guards rushed into the room and surrounded the bewildered crime fighter, guns at the ready. Two of the agents roughly seized Darkwing’s arms and began hauling him from the office. Others took up Ammonia and departed around the corner. J. Gander smiled with satisfaction as he watched Darkwing disappear down the hall, his webbed feet dragging on the linoleum, his eyes filled with anguished puzzlement. The SHUSH executive’s grin turned smug. “You might want to think about going back to your old costume. Purple just isn’t your color.” As the director closed his double doors, Darkwing snapped out of his baffled daze and shot a sly glance at the guards.
“Sorry boys, but this duck’s gotta fly!” He vanished in a cloud of blue smoke, leaving the guards speechless.
“Come on, LP, Morgana’s been kidnapped!” Darkwing appeared inside the Audubon Bay Bridge tower, blue mist fading around him as he rushed to his sidekick’s side. Launchpad raised an eyebrow as he rolled out from under the Thunderquack. He had been tuning it up.
“I didn’t think she liked goats.”
“Not that kind of kid, LP,” sighed Darkwing as he climbed into the plane. “We have to search for any sign of Steelbeak, before Morgana gets hurt!”
“Do ya even know where to look, DW?” Launchpad asked, his hands gripping the Thunderquack’s steering wheel as he started the plane’s engine.
Darkwing shook his head. “I know where to start, though. To Morgana’s house, LP!”
Darkwing slumped in his chair, his eyes downcast with a look of defeat. “Steelbeak’s probably killed her by now. He only took her to get to me…it’s my fault.”
“Come on, DW. Don’t blame yourself. We’ll find her.”
“If only Ammonia hadn’t cleaned up that trail! Morgana probably thought I didn’t want to save her. Ahhh!” he screamed and clasped the armrests as the Thunderquack suddenly took a nosedive. “Launchpad, what’re you doing?!!”
“Getting your attention! Snap out of it, DW! She knows you love her. Where’s that old crime fighter spirit? She wouldn’t want you to give up, no matter what happened to her! You can’t let Steelbeak or any other criminal push you around!”
“You’re right, LP, I- wait a minute! What’s that?!”
Launchpad squinted through the windshield, the setting sun’s gleaming orange rays drifting into the cockpit. A blackening cloud pouring rain and flashing angrily over a part of the city met his limited vision.
“It’s rain, DW. Looks like we’re in for some bad weather,” replied the pilot.
Darkwing frowned. “I know that. I mean, look at it! It’s only raining over one building! Kinda like it does at Morgana’s place!” His eyes lit up with a new fire. “Take her down, LP! We’ve got some eggs to fry!”
With that, his sidekick maneuvered the Thunderquack until it touched down lightly in front of a massive, intricately designed department store building. Darkwing’s jaw hit the floor. No crash?!
“Launchpad, you-!” Darkwing couldn’t speak he was so flabbergasted. The pilot shrugged.
“Yeah, DW?” He raised an eyebrow, as if nothing was out of the ordinary.
“…nice, uh, landing.” Darkwing dropped back into his seat, concealing his utter confusion. “I’ll go in this way, you come in through the back, got it?”
“No problemo, DW!” Launchpad gave him a thumbs up and cut the engine.
Darkwing leapt to the ground and stealthily crawled toward the glass double doors.
“Maybe he actually took flying lessons…” he murmured thoughtfully as he approached the darkened store. “There’s something strange going on in this city, and I’m going to find out what…as soon as I rescue Morgana,” he mumbled under his breath. Steadily he crawled toward the towering building, the sunlight waning behind the forest of skyscrapers.
Two Eggmen guarded the entrance. He took in as much air as his lungs would hold and slowly let it drift from his nostrils. “Now…” he whispered, “how to get in…”
He eased his gas gun from his pocket and gently pulled the trigger. A soft whoosh sent a small gas pellet in between the two Eggmen, releasing a double stream of pink gas. Within moments, the ducks lay snoring on the stoop. Darkwing crept past them and into the voluminous nothingness, his silken cape floating after him like a watery shadow. A long corridor stretched out in front of his straining eyes.
“Can’t criminals ever stay in well-lit hideouts?” he muttered, his hands outstretched. A door caught his eye. A minute glow of light sprayed into the darkness, an unwelcome intruder in the black solitude of the hallway.
Cautiously, he turned the handle, slipped inside, and closed the door. His eyes met a horrifying display.
“Gizmoduck!? What are you doing here!?” His eyes flashed angrily as he watched the motorized champion of Duckburg finish tying up Steelbeak, who was unconscious.
“I should ask you the same question! Are you here to help your F.O.W.L. friend, you felon?” Gizmoduck countered, his voice rising.
Darkwing smirked.
“Can it, you talking trash compactor! You’re on my turf again! I’m the hero here, so I’ll vanquish the villain!”
“Hero, huh? Well St. Canard doesn’t seem to think so, and your methods are uncouth.”
“Uncouth, am I? Well this is my city to protect and I’ll do it my way, you got that?” He snatched the ropes binding Steelbeak and was about to pull him away when a sultry voice grabbed his attention.
“How nice of you to finally show up, Dark.”
Morgana marched out from behind Gizmoduck into Darkwing’s view, her hands crossed and her eyes flaming. Something flashed on her hand in the light, but Darkwing disregarded it and gulped.
“But, Morgana! I didn’t know where to find you! I just now saw the cloud and –"
“That’s a lie! I left you a trail to follow, and now I see how much I really mean to you! I’m just glad that Gizmoduck came when he did. He’s the real hero!”
Gizmoduck took her hand as she turned to leave.
“My pleasure, ma’am.” He bent and gave her a peck on the hand.
Darkwing shot a death look at the mechanical duck and took off after his girlfriend, Steelbeak forgotten.
“Morgana, wait! Ammonia Pine! Street sweeper! Stegmutt! Pudding!” he stammered, the words falling from his mouth too quickly to make sentences from them.
She whirled on him. “No more excuses! All you care about is stopping crimes! I hope you’re happy, Darkwing Duck, because this time we’re through for good!” She extended her arms, struck them over her head, and was gone with a clap of thunder.
Darkwing’s shoulders slumped and he clenched his hands, rage overcoming him as he heard the rumbling of Gizmoduck’s motor approaching. “Get out of my city,” he growled.
“Not on your life. St. Canard is overrun with criminals and frankly Darkwing, you need my help whether you want it or not,” the robot duck snapped.
Darkwing glared at him. Gizmoduck let out his breath in one steady stream and softened his tone.
“I didn’t mean get involved in this,” he motioned to the place where Morgana had disappeared, “but I saw the cloud and heard her cry for help…You could use a little extra help, Wingy.”
Darkwing sighed exasperatedly. “No, I don’t, especially from you! I just…need…”
Gizmoduck rolled nearer and laid a hand on his shoulder. Tears threatened to pour over, but Darkwing held them back. He was too proud to cry, especially in front of his rival. A thought hit him and he looked up at Gizmoduck, one eyebrow raised.
“Hey Giz, have you noticed anything funny going on in Duckburg?”
“Funny?” replied the metallic hero thoughtfully. He removed his hand from Darkwing’s shoulder and put it to his chin. “What do you mean?”
“I mean people being in two places at once, villains suddenly disappearing, close friends acting strangely. I don’t know, Giz. Maybe I’m just losing my mind.”
“Well, Darkwing, things have been a little strange the past few days…my employer’s nephews have been doing their homework, the Beagle Boys got out of prison on good behavior, and my mother decided she no longer likes soap operas. I guess people can change unexpectedly, though. Maybe everyone’s just decided to change all at the same time.”
“I guess you’re right. I’m making a big deal outta nothing…except one thing.”
It was Gizmoduck’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “What’s that?”
“Get off my turf!”
Before Gizmoduck could respond, a muscular figure in brown tackled him from behind.
“Launchpad!” he shouted earnestly, “It’s me, Gizmoduck!”
The pilot blinked in surprise and crawled off of his captive. “Oh, sorry ‘bout that. I guess I just got carried away,” he said sheepishly as he helped up Duckburg’s hero.
Gizmoduck waved his hand passively. “Don’t give it a second thought.” He struck a dramatic pose. “And now I must go seek out more criminals to conquer! But remember Darkwing, I’ve got my eye on you and your questionable methods.” He turned to Launchpad as he hauled Steelbeak over his shoulder. “Farewell, good citizen!”
A propeller popped from his helmet and he crashed through the roof, sending debris and dust tumbling on top of Darkwing and Launchpad.
“Whoops,” he mumbled, pausing to survey the damage, then took off into the night.
Darkwing scowled.
“I’ve got my eye on you and your questionable methods,” he repeated mockingly. “Bah! How can you stand that walking tin can, LP?”
His sidekick shrugged then resumed brushing the chalky powder from his clothes and cap.
“Well Launchpad,” Darkwing announced resignedly, “I’ve got to get to Morgana’s and set things right.”
“By yourself?”
“Yeah. I think I’ll just walk.”
“Well…okay, DW. Good luck.”
“Thanks.”
Darkwing smiled, then turned and headed toward DeSpell Lane as the sun rose steadily into the cloudy, drained sky. As the light caressed his feathers, his mind raced over the strange events of the past few days.
Could it have all been a dream? No, somehow I know it wasn’t. Hallucinations from lack of sleep? How could those Eggmen have just vanished? Some F.O.W.L. teleportation device? Did J. Gander develop some rare case of amnesia? And how, after all his years as a crash-course pilot, could Launchpad have made his first real landing and not be the least bit surprised?
He sighed as he reached Morgana’s looming front gate, illuminated ominously in the fading moonlight.
Well, first things first…I have to get Morgana back.
As he entered, it dawned on him that the weather inside was a little strange. It was the same as outside the gate rather than a turbulent storm. With a shrug, he shook off the foreboding feeling and, with his heart in his throat, punched the doorbell. He gulped as he heard the unpromising chimes of the funeral march. A flood of images burst into his mind with the haunting melody. He could see Morgana’s anguished look when she stormed from the department store, the flash of her hand, and the final clap of fury as she faded into oblivion. The flash of her hand…
“Hold the phone!” he exclaimed aloud, yanking the velvet box from his suit pocket and clicking it open. There sat his diamond ring in all of its elegant glory.
How can that be? She was wearing the engagement ring and I didn’t even give it to her yet!
He snapped it shut and replaced it just as the door creaked open, breaking his chain of thought.
“Hello, Dark,” said Morgana’s half-shadowed face as she peered outside.
“Morgana! I-“ he faltered, unsure of what to say.
She opened the door all the way and stepped out onto the porch, her hands behind her back.
“I’m sorry, I really tried-“
“Oh, it’s all right, Dark. I know it wasn’t your fault. I forgive you.”
What?! Darkwing’s head raced with confusion. That was too easy! Morgana never forgives me this quickly…and I haven’t even begged yet!
“Oh Dark Darling, I love you with all my heart!”
She threw her arms around him and pulled him against her. The feathers on the back of his neck bristled furiously at her touch. Something wasn’t right about her, and it wasn’t just the ring still sparkling on her finger.
He held her loosely and mustered a small response.
“Me too.”
His mind reeled. What had happened to Morgana?
Seductively, her hands slid up his back and rested on his neck. She smiled sweetly at him, then suddenly clamped her hands around his neck, squeezing with all her might.
Taken aback, it took Darkwing a few seconds to react. He gasped and struggled violently, tearing at her surprisingly strong hands. Minute after minute a cruel grin twisted wider and wider across her graceful features as she watched Darkwing’s life ebb away.
He could feel his consciousness slipping from him, but he forced himself to keep fighting. With his last ounce of strength, he planted his feet on her stomach and kicked. Hard.
Her fingers slid from his neck, her nails digging into his feathers as she tried to hold her grasp. He catapulted away from her, rolled, and came to a rest on the sidewalk, his chest heaving. Reluctantly, he willed his body to rise, and as he stood, he pulled out his gas gun and shoved a grappling hook into it.
“Hold it right there, you phony! Tell me where Morgana is and I might go easy on you!”
The fake Morgana regained her balance and came charging toward the caped crusader, her arms poised for another attack. Within moments, he triggered the gun and sent the hook hurtling at her. It wound around her, trapping her arms to her sides. Darkwing smirked.
“Yup, yup. Looks like the mighty masked mallard emerges triumphant yet again.”
He strutted down the sidewalk with his chest puffed out proudly. As he turned to add to his self-praise, he froze. The rope and hook lay on the porch. Empty.
“What the-“
Suddenly he was grabbed from behind, the imposter trying to strangle him for the second time. Since Morgana was a full head and shoulders taller than Darkwing, his feet were helpless in the air as she lifted him, her right arm wrenched around his throat.
But just as suddenly as her arm had seized him, it was gone. Darkwing plopped on the pavement and gagged, darting his eyes for either his savior or his assassin.
“Are you all right, Wingy?” a concerned voice asked from behind him.
“Yeah, thanks Giz,” he replied hoarsely as he rose, the reddening scratches crawling across his neck like small blazing snakes. “Now, where did she go?”
Gizmoduck pointed across the lawn and there sat a large block of ice. Inside of it, a surprised Morgana looked blankly out at them.
“How’d you do that?”
“Ice gun,” replied Gizmoduck matter-of-factly.
Darkwing nodded and rubbed his striped neck. “I don’t get it, but somehow that’s not Morgana. It’s either mind control or Steelbeak took her to F.O.W.L. High Command for ransom and this is a look-alike. What prison did you take him to?”
“Well, I didn’t exactly take him to prison.”
“WHAT?!”
“I had him right on my shoulder, and then…nothing. There was some liquid falling down my suit from where he’d been, but he’d just vanished!” He held up the empty ropes as if to prove his story.
“What kind of liquid?” inquired Darkwing curiously, trying to connect it to his past experiences.
“Well, it was a gold like honey, but it slid right off my suit like water. I don’t know where it landed, I just assumed Steelbeak had wet himself.”
“Not likely. Steelbeak isn’t one to scare that easily. Take me to where it fell. Nothing is too small to be overlooked at this point.” He paused, looking back at the small iceberg. “How long do you think she’ll stay frozen?”
“An ice cube that big, I’d say twenty-four hours at least.”
“Right. Let’s go!”
“Well, this is where it coulda landed. Everything looks so different down here and in the dark.”
Hours had passed, and the sunlight had long since faded into a shadowy blanket of stars. They had gone over Gizmoduck’s path almost entirely without any luck. One last roadway remained.
“I’ll search this alley, you search that one. Keep your eyes open for anything suspicious,” Darkwing said firmly.
Gizmoduck folded his arms.
“Including you?”
“Very funny,” Darkwing frowned.
The duo went their separate ways, each with his own set of detective tools at the ready.
The dank, reeking alleyway loomed in front of Darkwing like a formidable tomb, the air clammy and rank. As it whispered through his feathers, a chill rippled through him to the bone and he paused, feeling that he wasn’t alone. The void remained silent and lifeless in front of his eyes, the night shrouding him in the desolate cloak of the abyss. He pulled his flashlight from his pocket, his gut churning unsteadily, telling him to flee, to run away and never look back. Yet he willed his feet to creep forward toward the gaping blackness, an unseen wind breathing past his cape making it whip violently as if it were trying desperately to escape an unseen threat. Something wet brushed his webbed foot and he sprang back in terror, yanking his flashlight toward where he’d been. In the small ring of light glistened a puddle of condensed liquid, not quite water. In the darkness he couldn’t make out the color of it, but it seemed to thrive with a life of its own. He held his breath in wonder, studying the creature intently as it rippled and undulated calmly in the rancid breeze. Suddenly a small part of the fluid stretched toward him as if to grab him. He gasped and inched back, not taking his bewildered eyes from the pool as it settled into its flat, circular shape again.
“Hey, Giz!” he called loudly, “You might wanna come take a look at this!”
The wind sighed through the alley as Darkwing waited expectantly, all the while examining the watery creature. No answer met his ears, not even the growl of a motor. Only the howling air.
“Giz?” Darkwing repeated, becoming concerned. “Gizmoduck?!”
Nothing.
“He probably ran into a wall and knocked himself out,” he sneered to himself as he approached the puddle. From his suit he pulled a vile and tongs. “I’ll just get a sample to process back at the tower.”
“Don’t touch that!” a watery voice yelled from the depths of the alley. Darkwing jumped in surprise, but remained poised over the creature.
“Huh? Who-"
Without warning, the puddle sprang to life, coiling itself around the hero’s wrist, pulling him towards itself.
“Hey! What the-"
Effortlessly, it drew him closer to its middle, the rest of its surface gurgling in anticipation. Darkwing thrashed about furiously, frantically trying to free himself from its rubbery clutches, but it took no notice of his movements. Just as one of his fingers brushed the liquid surface, someone bounded from the shadows and hurtled into him, flinging him across the alleyway and into one of the brick walls. His wrist pounded angrily where the creature had grabbed him and he shook his head to clear it. Through his misted vision, he could make out two wet forms attacking each other in the dark, their shadows casting eerie ripples of light along the dripping walls. The puddle now had a grip on the other’s leg and was pulling him toward it. The captured form was in the shape of a canine, his limbs flinging drops of water across the alley as he tried desperately to free himself as he was sucked hungrily into the small pond.
“Liquidator?” Darkwing wheezed as he rose shakily to his feet.
“Go now, while supplies last!” shouted the criminal urgently.
Darkwing frowned.
“Why would you-"
“You’re the only one with the buying capability now! Get outta here and save St. Canard!”
“What do you mean? What is that thing?”
Just as he was about to respond, the Liquidator was jerked under the surface of the puddle and out of view.