The Last True Hero

by Amanda Rohrssen


Chapter Five

Moments passed, and Darkwing stared at the place where the Liquidator had once been.

“He saved me,” he breathed, incredulously. “But why? I thought he’d be happy to see me go.” He eyed the puddle warily and crept to a safe distance as he mused deeply. “Are there more than one of these things?”

Without warning, the creature shuddered fiercely and rose into the air. Its liquid form molded and thickened into the shape of a duck wearing a jester costume. Color flooded its body, and a toothy grin spread across its now solid features.

“Hoo, hoo, hoo, hoo! It’s PLAYTIME!!” squealed a high-pitched, mischievous voice.

“Quackerjack?! How did…what is…where…?”

“Ah, ah!” The jester waggled a finger at Darkwing, smirking tauntingly. “A magician never reveals his secrets!”

The masked mallard aimed his gas gun at Quackerjack. “Well, whatever you are, I’m putting you away for good!”

“You can’t put away the game until you’re finished playing!” From his balloon-like pants he pulled a pogo stick and leapt at Darkwing, who pulled the trigger on his gas gun. A tennis racket appeared in Quackerjack’s hand, and he backhanded the pellet from his pogo, sending it flying at Darkwing. “Tag, you’re it! Hoo, hoo, hoo, hoo!”

Still laughing hysterically, the jumping jester hopped across the street and into an abandoned shop. Gas wrapped Darkwing in a twister of yellow and white, and he grabbed his stomach painfully, tears streaming down his bill.

“Tear gas!” he gasped regretfully as he lumbered after Quackerjack. “Come back here you cowardly criminal comedian!” He gazed up at the deserted structure with disdain. “Another empty and abandoned building. Who would have thought?”

The windows watched him gloomily through wooden X-shaped pupils, and a large, faded sign announcing Swan Lake Dry Cleaners slanted threateningly toward him from above.

“Hm,” he reflected thoughtfully, “Isn’t this where Launchpad takes my costumes to be cleaned?” He glanced up and down the street. Every other building seemed in good condition; this was the only one with boarded windows and ruined walls. “Methinks the plot thickens,” he said to himself mysteriously as he climbed the dilapidated stairway to the rotten door.

The caped crime fighter pushed gingerly on the entrance, the wood feeling soft and damp under his feathers. The hinges screeched in protest, making Darkwing’s ears ring agonizingly. He grimaced.

A bell rang merrily as he opened the door completely. A canine woman with long curly blonde hair glanced up at him from a magazine, bubble gum popping in her mouth.

“Good evening, sir, how may I help you?” she asked, her voice devoid enthusiasm. She munched her gum noisily while winding a strand of hair around her finger, impatience apparent in her youthful face.

“Um, hi,” he replied, taken aback. “Was there a duck dressed in a clown outfit just in here? I’m following him, and-"

"You’re not here to pick up any clothes?” she interrupted in the same listless tone.

He shook his head, and she pulled the gum from her mouth with her finger.

“I didn’t see any clown duck, but you could check up there. Nothin’s up there but extra stuff nobody came to pick up.”

He tugged down his fedora in thanks then crossed the room to climb the staircase she had indicated. She watched him thoughtfully, twirling her hair again, then smiled faintly.

“If you see any pink elephants up there with your clown friend, just let me know.”

He scowled and ducked through the entrance to the stairs. It was then that she noticed the finger wrapped in her hair. It still had the gum on it! She scoffed disgustedly and rolled her eyes as Darkwing disappeared upstairs.

“If you see any pink elephants with your clown friend, just let me know,” he muttered contemptuously. “Doesn’t that girl know a hero when she sees one? She’s just like the rest of the city…” he trailed off as he reached the top. It was pitch black.

He groped along the wall for a light switch, but instead came into contact with multiple spider webs. Shaking them off with disgust, he tried again on the other wall and found the small toggle. He flicked it on and scoped the room in the dim, dusty light. It was empty save for a few lonely wooden boxes, and long finely spun webs were scattered gracefully across its rafters. Darkwing raised an eyebrow. Quackerjack had bounced into this building, there was no doubt in his mind. So where was he? Maybe the girl was hiding him somewhere.

He turned and made his way downstairs, not forgetting to switch the muted light off as he did so. In the darkness of the stairwell, however, he regretted it as he blindly slid his hands along the closed in walls. Suddenly, he stumbled over something large and metal blocking his path and nearly tumbled head first down the remaining stairs.

“What the-“ he stammered, kicking the object curiously.

“Hey, cut that out!” a familiar voice whined in the darkness.

“Gizmoduck?”

“Darkwing? About time you showed up! I’ve been lying here for an hour,” he said indignantly.

“What? I just went up these stairs not two minutes ago!”

“That can’t be, I never saw you.”

“You can’t see me now,” Darkwing retorted, crossing his arms. “Why are you lying there, anyway?”

“Flat tire,” he stated unenthusiastically. “It’s too small a place to fly, and the only other transportation in this suit is my rocket pack.”

“Well, why don’t you use that and blast outta here?”

“Out of gas.”

“You could just take off that suit, you know. It’d be a lot easier.”

“Why? So you can do this solo? I don’t think so.” Gizmoduck shook his head, even though his movements couldn’t be seen in the darkness. “I’m not letting St. Canard go to ruin! Besides, you’d know my secret identity.”

“Oh, that’d be some top-dollar info…if the circus were in town! Now, one side! I’ve got a mystery to solve.” Darkwing stepped on top of Gizmoduck’s cold, hard suit and continued down the stairs.

“You’re not just gonna leave me here, are you?” Gizmoduck’s shaky voice demanded from the gaping blackness behind Darkwing.

“Look, Giz, I can’t exactly pull a tow truck out of my pocket! Besides, I’ve got to solve this case before the entire city gets taken by those…things.”

“What things?”

“I’ll explain later,” he replied hurriedly over his shoulder as he sprang over the last of the stairs and, with a thump, landed into the lobby.

“Darkwing! Come back here! I’ll have you arrested! Darkwing!” bellowed Gizmoduck helplessly.

But Darkwing had stopped listening.

The lobby was completely dark, moonlight casting long, formidable shapes across the ancient, rotten floorboards. The gum-smacking cashier was nowhere in sight, and dust laid a blanket of time across the room.

“Okay,” Darkwing sighed, “this is getting monotonous.” As he looked the room over halfheartedly a thought struck him. “Hey Giz, did you see Quackerjack in here anywhere?”

“He’s the reason I have this flat tire.”

“Which way’d he go?”

Silence.

“Giz, which way did Quackerjack go?”

Nothing.

“Gizmoduck?! …Don’t tell me he’s gone now, too! That’s just perfect.” He sighed exasperatedly and began walking toward the door. One of its hinges was broken, illuminating the portal’s cracks with a silver glow.

“You’re still it!” Quackerjack’s ridiculing voice blared from behind him, startling him.

“You won’t escape this time, you ludicrous lunatic!” shouted the vigilante, adrenaline surging through his veins. He whirled just as Quackerjack bounced over his head, still on his pogo stick.

The villain bounded through a boarded window, splinters flying as the wood crumbled. Darkwing took off after him, determined not to lose him this time.

“He’s heading toward DeSpell Lane! Back to Morgana’s!” he heaved, the wind burning his squinted eyes, causing tears to streak across his face in long, glistening trails.

~*~

The morning light danced up the street, following Quackerjack gleefully and spreading his shadow in a long, bouncy stretch of gray. “Oh goodie! Another playmate!” he whooped jubilantly as he pounced across Morgana’s yard toward a large block of ice. The jester leapt onto the ice cube and let loose a tremendous bounce, shattering Morgana’s image into a hundred icy shards.

“Ew,” Darkwing grimaced in disgust. Even though he knew it wasn’t really her, it was unsettling to see his girlfriend’s broken body scattered on the ground. He reached down and scooped up a chunk, hurriedly placing it into a container before it could melt fully.

The rest of the pieces were decomposing rapidly in the fresh sunlight. Morgana’s features liquefied into rubbery yellow blobs that crawled out of their arctic prisons and melded with one another into a large golden puddle once again. Darkwing gasped. How was he supposed to defeat these guys? As the creature began to take shape, Darkwing pulled his gas gun out yet again.

“Suck gas, evil doer!” He fired, hoping to at least stun the thing long enough for him to take care of the other one first.

As the canister landed at the foot of the molding goo, Quackerjack tackled him with his pogo, then discarded it as he slid a jump rope from his clown pants.

“Now let’s play cowboys and Indians!” He lassoed the crime fighter and smirked as a large, robust figure emerged from the smoke, not a single gag, laugh, or tear crossing his smug expression.

“And guess who’s de Indian,” it smiled through metal jaws.

Darkwing blinked, his jaw hitting the floor. He was out of ideas.

“Now, Darkwing Doofus, you give me back what’s mine and I might put in a good woid for yas with my friend here.”

Darkwing clutched at the sample he’d collected, narrowing his eyes. “No can do, metal mouth!” Darkwing’s buzz saw cufflinks shrieked to life, tearing through the rope and freeing him. “I’m going to stop your slimy species’ scandalous scheme if it’s the last thing I do!” He disappeared in a shroud of blue smoke.

The two clones smiled at each other.

“Let’s get back ta base,” Steelbeak said. The other nodded in agreement, and they strolled in the opposite direction and out of view.

“Base, eh?” mused Darkwing from around the corner. “Good. That way I can hit’em all in one place! But first thing’s first.”

~*~

Back in Darkwing Tower, the masked mallard was perched atop a column where some of his scientific equipment hummed and flashed. There were many columns scattered throughout the tower, each with its own set of unique gadgets and tools. Ladders led up to all of them, and an extensive library covered two of the steel walls. In the middle of the lower level sat the Thunderquack and the ramshackle Ratcatcher, a pair of booted feet sticking out from underneath its dented, oily depths.

On the platform, Darkwing studied the sample of the yellow creature he’d captured under a large microscope, thinking to himself.

These things must have claimed half the city! Morgana, SHUSH, Steelbeak, Gizmoduck, Liquidator, Quackerjack…I wonder how many people they’ve taken. Where’d they come from, anyway? I’ll probably have to keep an eye on everyone now, especially…

“GOSALYN!” he shrieked, no longer taking interest in the creature under the microscope.

“What’s that, DW?” called Launchpad’s voice from below.

“Launchpad! I have to run home and get Gosalyn!” He shoved the goo back into the container with tongs, then slid down the ladder with it under his arm.

Launchpad rolled out from under the Ratcatcher and stood, one eyebrow raised as Darkwing pressed the clear box urgently into his oil-stained hands.

“I’ll explain later. Take this sample and make sure nothing happens to it!”

Moments later, he leapt out of a blue armchair, the gears whistling as it whirled to a stop. The statue of Basil of Baker Street snapped back into place with a small click as Darkwing sprinted throughout his house.

“Gosalyn!” he shouted repeatedly through every room, but the nine-year-old was not to be found.

Desperately, he tore through every closet, cabinet, nook, and cranny he could find, calling her name over and over, each time growing more and more frantic. His stomach twisted unmercifully as if punishing him for leaving her alone.

In a frenzy, he flew into the blue station wagon and tore down the street, the smell of burning rubber pursuing him. He didn’t care about citizens seeing Darkwing Duck driving a station wagon through town; the only thing on his mind was finding his daughter safe and alive. The video arcade was closed, and the school was deserted save for a few droopy-eyed janitors. It was a Sunday.

He sped up the driveway, screeched to a stop and sprang from the driver’s seat, adrenaline thundering through his sweat drenched body as he scoured the building a third time. No sign of Gosalyn met his pleading, hysterical eyes and he collapsed in the middle of the kitchen in a fit of sobs.

Why had he left her alone? She was the most important person in his life and he had failed to protect her.

He had failed.

Failed.

And now they had her, those monsters.

He raised his head with a look of determination. Fists clenched into balls, he rose to his feet and clamped his teeth together.

“I’m going to find that base, and when I do they’ll be sorry they ever came to Darkwing Duck’s protectorate!”

A sudden knock startled Darkwing out of his oath and he slunk warily to the front door and gazed out of the peephole. A faint smile broke his sorrowful frown, and he brushed the traces of weakness from his face as he pulled open the door.

“Um, hi Mr. Darkwing, sir. Is Gosalyn home?” The gosling shuffled on the stoop, looking up at him through thick red glasses.

Any trace of the smile fell from Darkwing’s face.

“No, she’s not here, Honkman,” he replied, trying to hold back a fresh flow of tears and keep his voice steady.

Concern flooded the young Muddlefoot’s expression.

“What’s wrong, sir?”

“Not here,” Darkwing said hurriedly, grabbing Honker’s arm and pulling him inside. “We have to go where it’s safe!”

“What do you mean?” questioned Honker in confusion, straightening his glasses.

“Have your parents been acting strange lately?” Darkwing pressed, grasping Honker’s shoulders firmly.

“Um, no stranger than normal, Mr. Darkwing, sir, except my dad doesn’t watch Pelican’s Island anymore.”

“That’s what I was afraid of,” replied the crime fighter, his eyes glazing over momentarily. “The rest of your family’s probably already been taken,” he snatched Honker’s arm again, “but at least I can save you!”

“From what, sir?” Honker’s voice shook as he bobbed behind Darkwing’s insistent pace.

“I’ll show you!”

He plunked Honker down on one of the armchairs and smashed the Basil statue’s head down, triggering the whirring chairs and dropping them into the secret passageway that led to the Audubon Bay Bridge.

One of the tall, narrow bookcases shook and swung open, revealing Darkwing and Honker.

“I want you to take a look at this…sample,” the masked mallard trailed off as he pulled Honker inside.

An unexpected sight met their eyes. Smoke coursed furiously through Darkwing Tower, snaking along the steepled ceiling and pouring out of the windows in thick, malevolent tendrils. From the massive clouds of smog erupted eager flames that flashed threateningly as they licked the walls and floor. His equipment, his tools, his files, his transportation, his hideout- destroyed before Darkwing’s eyes in a whirl of smoke and fire. The heat pierced his skin, daring him to try and save his possessions from the roaring inferno.

He stared, openmouthed, as platform after platform collapsed in a fury of ash, falling like the broken pieces of his shattered life. Honker yanked his arm, his face strained with terror.

“We have to get out of here!”

Darkwing snapped out of his trance and grabbed the gosling’s wrist as he pulled out his gas gun and blasted a grappling hook toward one of the window ledges. As they soared above Darkwing’s burning dreams, the hero searched anxiously for his sidekick, but everything was lost in the greedy, hellish blaze. The flames danced under his webbed feet gleefully as they hungrily swallowed his hopes of being recognized as St. Canard’s greatest hero.

“Launchpad…” he breathed mournfully. He locked his eyelids shut and tried to erase the image, but the bonfire’s laugh still resounded pitilessly in his ears as it devoured his life’s work. He thudded onto the windowsill, Honker’s trembling form still clinging to his waist.

“What am I going to do now?” Darkwing mumbled hopelessly. “I’ve lost everything. Without my crime fighting tools, how am I going to save the city?” He looked down at the small form quivering at his side. “Well, Honker,” he sighed, “let’s go.”

With that, the crestfallen canard sauntered resolutely down the gigantic cable that connected the tower to the bridge, resigned to his fate. He may not be able to save St. Canard, but he wasn’t going to go down without a fight.

About halfway down, he turned slowly and took one last look at the first real home he had ever known, smoke still gushing from its innards. Tears began to fill his eyes as he stared at the mocking firestorm.

“SHUSH…Morgana…Gosalyn…Launch-"

“Hey DW!”

He whirled around, not believing his ears. Could it be?

“Down here!” called a familiar voice filled with relief from the street below.

“Launchpad!” Darkwing screamed with joy. He tore down the cable with Honker in tow. When he was low enough he leaped off right into his sidekick, knocking him off balance with a hug. “You’re all right!”

The pilot smiled faintly and returned the hug. “Uh, thanks, DW! I’m glad to see you too.”

Darkwing stopped smiling as he realized what he was doing. He sprang from the friendly embrace, straightened his suit, and cleared his throat as if to cover up for his emotional outburst.

“Ahem. So, LP, what happened in there?” He crooked a thumb over his shoulder toward his crippled headquarters.

As he did so, the topmost part of the tower snapped from its base and tumbled into the Audubon Bay with a resounding crash, flames trailing behind it like a comet. Launchpad jumped back in fear, his eyes wide with terror as he watched the falling fireball. Darkwing started, glanced behind him, then turned his attention back to his sidekick with upturned eyes. What next? It was then he noticed his sidekick’s horrorstruck expression.

“What’s wrong, LP? Oh, I understand. It was a good hideout, but we’ll find another one. Now, what happened?”

Launchpad broke out of his stupor and shrugged. “Gee, I don’t know, DW. One minute I’m workin’ on the Ratcatcher, and the next it gets really hot up there. So I get up to grab a drink and there was fire everywhere! I climbed down the cable and watched for awhile, and then you came out.”

While Launchpad explained and Darkwing pondered, Honker’s forgotten form crept silently behind the caped crusader, his features narrowing into a menacing glower and his hands poised for attack. All of Honker’s appearance vanished into a mound of clear liquid gold and it raised itself up to Darkwing’s height, ready to strike.

Without warning, a large, charred pole smashed into the street between the rubbery form and Darkwing, creating a spider web of cracked pavement around the three figures. From atop the burnt structure appeared a large fish-woman with pink fins spread along her skull and a sizeable coral seashell strapped to back.

“Is this yours?” she asked crossly, springing from her perch and landing in front of Darkwing.

The yellow shape cowered at the sight of the smoldering tower and backed away hurriedly. There was no way for it to get to Darkwing without going over that tower. It slithered away toward St. Canard in defeat. The crime fighter never knew how close he had come to being taken.

“Neptunia! I hate to say it, but am I glad to see you! I can use your command of the ocean to stop those fiendish fluid felons! If ice isn’t their weakness, maybe water is!”

“What? Honey, you sound crazier than a beached barnacle with his tail in a knot!”

“Look, mutants have invaded St. Canard and they can look like anyone in the city! Freezing doesn’t affect them, but maybe water will! …Or a shark attack.” He paused from his heroic ranting and sought around him. “Where’s Honker?”

Launchpad shrugged and Neptunia frowned.

“Who’s Honker?”

“Nevermind,” snapped Darkwing as he began to pace vigorously. “He’s probably been captured…which means one of those slimy shape-shifters is close by! Neptunia! Launchpad! Let’s get dangerous!”

~*~

“Are you sure you ain’t got sunstroke? ‘Cause honey, you’ve been leading us all over this town and I ain’t seen any of these so-called mutants of yours,” Neptunia proclaimed doubtfully from behind Darkwing, followed by Launchpad, who was dragging his exhausted feet wearily.

Darkwing, magnifying glass in hand, paused from his intense pursuit and glared at her.

“They’re probably hiding in fear of the great Darkwing Duck!” he replied defensively, his ego swelling.

Neptunia crossed her arms. “If you’re so great, why’d you let’em take over the city in the first place?”

“Let them!?” he exploded shrilly. “Listen you half-witted halibut-"

His retort was cut short as the trio was suddenly shrouded in darkness. The power had gone out all along the road. Not even the stars shed any light from behind an ocean of silver clouds.

“Who turned out the lights?” Launchpad asked nervously.

A maniacal laugh broke the uneasy silence and all three heads turned to face a darkened supermarket. Darkwing narrowed his eyes.

“Megavolt,” he hissed darkly.

A long-nosed form with a bulky sack thrown over his back emerged backwards from the automatic doors, now locked in the open position due to the power outage.

“Hope you can shop by candlelight!” His shrill, ear-splitting laugh pierced the stillness again as he took off down the blackened street, not once looking in Darkwing’s direction.

The valiant vigilante turned to the others.

“Launchpad, find something I can trap him in!” he barked. “Neptunia, get your fish ready to fight! I have a feeling Megavolt isn’t what he seems.”

He tore after the supervillain, leaving his sidekick and the fish-woman to their orders.

“I gotta head back to the bay anyway or I’m gonna dry out. I hope that duck knows what he’s talkin’ about. Here, sweetie,” she tossed Launchpad a small whistle like the type used to call seamen on deck, “use this when you and Darkwing are ready for me.”

The pilot nodded, gripping the whistle tightly as if everything depended on it.

“Catch you later,” she called over her shoulder as she headed for the docks.

Once she was out of sight, Launchpad sneered.

“No, I’ll catch you later.” Silently, he made his way through the shadows, morphed into the form of the Liquidator, and followed Neptunia with a predatory look twisted across his features.

~*~

“Where do you think you’re going, Sparky?” Darkwing shouted courageously, startling Megavolt.

“Don’t ever call me that!”

“Why not?…Sparky.”

“Oooo, Darkwing Duck! I should have known you’d show up sooner or later!” Megavolt snarled as he took a tighter grip on his sack of bulbs. “Eat wattage, duck!”

A lightening bolt flashed in front of Darkwing, barely missing his webbed feet. Taking his chance, Megavolt sprang onto the nearest telephone pole and shimmied to the top, his sack clenched securely between his long, narrow jaws. He removed the bag and laughed maniacally, racing along the telephone wires using his rubber boots as skates, sparks trailing him like leaping embers. Darkwing watched helplessly, then searched for any way to follow. He couldn’t climb the pole; he could be electrocuted. Suddenly, a red and purple vehicle sitting a ways down the street caught his eye. Without a second thought, he leapt onto it and tore after Megavolt, its engine roaring as it gained on the supervillain.

“Hold it right there, you light bulb lunatic! I’m pulling the plug on your pathetic plot!” he shouted above the thrashing wind.

With luck, he thought, he’ll lead me straight to their headquarters! I’ll have those carnivorous creatures crying in the kennel before morning! Neptunia had better have her troops ready.

He glanced at the speedometer and tapped the gas, then frowned thoughtfully.

Wait a second! Wasn’t the Ratcatcher burned up in Darkwing Tower?! How did it get down here?

A flash of lightning just in front of the bike snapped the crime fighter to attention.

No time for questions now, I have to stop that morphing madman!

Abruptly, Darkwing swerved to miss another flying electric bolt and lost ground. As he accelerated again, Megavolt turned sharply onto a perpendicular set of wires and smiled to himself, thinking he had lost Darkwing. When he changed direction again at the next corner, however, a pair of glaring headlights met his smug gaze.

“Whoa!” He skidded to a stop and stared, dumbfounded. “How’d you do that?!”

“Trade secret,” smirked Darkwing. “Now give up this ridiculously relentless run, you repugnant rodent!”

“Never!” shrieked Megavolt as he spun in the opposite direction and made a break for it. “Not until all of the enslaved light bulbs in the world are free!”

Darkwing raced after him through a maze of streets until he dove inside the open window of a condemned factory. The caped crusader screeched to a halt in front of the factory’s entrance and gazed up at the broken window.

“Okay, Sparky. You hide, I’ll seek.”

He dismounted and sauntered through the rotting wooden doors. Darkness surrounded him as he crept inside. A wave of déjŕ vu swept over him and he shivered, gazing into the void.

“There’s something familiar about all this,” he pondered aloud.

The light faded abruptly, leaving him trapped in the endless chasm. “Uh oh…” he gulped, suddenly recalling the dream that had haunted his mind a couple of days ago. There was no turning back now. “Good thing I brought my trusty flashlight!” he reassured himself.

With a click, the flashlight beamed over the factory like a tiny lighthouse, illuminating abandoned boxes towering above the hero and a catwalk stretching over him, the metal pattern staring downward with a million watchful eyes. No ladder or means of getting up to Megavolt met his gaze as he searched the factory. Suddenly, the ray of light sputtered weakly. He banged it against his leg, steadying it, but moments later it went out completely. Once again he was alone in the darkness.

“Oh yeah,” he muttered sheepishly. “I forgot about that.” Cautiously, he inched forward with his arms outstretched.

A loud crunch resounded harshly off of the factory walls, freezing Darkwing in his tracks. His eyes darted through the blackness nervously, no trace of light to be found.

“Megavolt?” he whispered, his voice trembling. He crept backward, his hand ready on the hilt of his gas gun.

Silence reverberated deafeningly through the pitch-black air. Darkwing’s stomach somersaulted furiously and sweat dripped from his uneasy, tensed body. Every muscle twitched, ready to pounce at any noise. Gradually he slunk back again, eyes flitting through the oblivion, as he made his way toward what he hoped was the door.

As second after second passed, his anxious limbs increasingly lowered their guard. Maybe he’d just imagined the sound. He stood still, listening intensely…nothing. Well, he still had to get Megavolt and it looked like this was the only way he could do it. He chided himself for thinking of running away from a mere echo and reminded himself that he couldn’t let his imagination overpower his heroism. Gathering determination, he breathed deeply and took a soundless step forward.

That’s when he felt it.

A steady stream of hot breath searing the back of his neck, making his blood run cold and his body shudder violently.

Darkwing squeaked in panic, but couldn’t seem to make his legs move from the rigid cement. Pinpricks scattered over his feathers as he once again reached for his gun. He only made it half way before he felt the cold steel of a knife run sinisterly up his feathery spine. When the blade came to a rest on his throat, Darkwing gasped shallowly.

Okay Darkwing, time to wake up now! he urged himself silently as the breathing became more powerful. Whatever it was was leaning closer to him.

“Don’t move or I’ll cut out your vocal chords,” a deep baritone growled in his ear. “You’re mine now, Darkwing! I could kill you with a flick of this dagger if I chose…but,” the voice rumbled haughtily, “I’d rather watch you suffer.”

He felt the voice’s owner rise. “Boys!” the voice thundered, causing his ears to ring fiercely. The faceless voice grabbed his shirt collar roughly, holding him against the razor. He winced as it bit a deeper groove into his neck. Suddenly, blinding light flooded the building from above and three figures bounded into view, their cold, sneering laughs ricocheting off of the steel walls. With a brutal shove, Darkwing was pitched in between the trio, their eyes gleaming eagerly.

“Liquidator, Megavolt, Quackerjack! Get rid of this costumed clown…for good.”

Darkwing swiveled from face to face and furrowed his brow, all traces of fear gone from his hardened features.

“Where’s the fourth, Negaduck? Doing a little spring cleaning in the gang?” he inquired contemptuously, glaring at his look-alike.

Negaduck sneered, a long evil grin snaking across his beak.

“I got rid of that knob weeks ago. Kept babbling about aliens taking over the city. Probably went crazy talking to those stupid plants of his all the time. But enough about him! It’s payback time, duck!”

The super-villains began circling him anxiously, preparing to attack. Negaduck stood outside of the circle, the knife still gleaming in his firm grip and the cruel smile still frozen on his evil face.

“Three or a hundred, Negaduck, numbers don’t scare me! I can take you all and anything you can throw at me!”

Without warning Liquidator lunged at Darkwing, but was met with a web-kick that sent him sprawling. This didn’t surprise Darkwing because he knew it wasn’t the real Liquidator. Megavolt zapped Darkwing’s rear and he grabbed it reflexively, yelping in pain.

“Here, catch!” shouted Quackerjack bouncily as he flung a rubber ball at Darkwing’s beak, sending him sprawling backward into Megavolt and Liquidator’s waiting arms. They each grabbed a wrist securely and the jester took hold of the crime fighter’s jerking legs, pulling his body taut. Their grasp was surprisingly strong. No matter how much Darkwing attempted to break free, it was futile.

Gradually, he felt their hands begin to liquefy around his limbs and he struggled violently to escape until his bones felt they would break. Negaduck appeared unchanged outside of the ring, apparently oblivious to this strange activity. The three had positioned themselves at such angles that he could see exactly what they were doing.

Suddenly, every window in the desolate factory shattered, sending shards of glass cascading to the cement below. Small colored tubes followed the sparkling waterfall and burst into brilliant flame as soon as they reached the bottom. Surrounded by scorching fire, the three creatures dropped Darkwing and dashed frantically for the door. Negaduck scowled, shaking off the initial surprise of the fire sticks and falling glass.

“It’s a raid! Where are you going, you knobs!? Afraid of the cops?” he called after them angrily.

He stormed toward Darkwing and yanked him to his feet, the knife glinting in the firelight.

“At least I can finish you off!”

He raised it, ready to strike, when without warning a long vine looped over his wrist and wrenched him back.

“Hey! What the-?” he stammered in confusion. “Whoa!”

The vine pulled him to the ground powerfully and the knife clattered from his grasp. With a thunderous roar, the boxes around both ducks erupted in a blaze of orange and yellow, singeing the walls and sending volumes of smoke gushing out of the busted windows. In the heavy smog an unusual figure emerged hurriedly and eased Darkwing to his feet.

“Come on, we have to get you out of here!”

Darkwing wheezed and gasped in response, his head lolling to one side and his body drooping. He felt drained of all energy and his lungs refused to function in the whirl of black clouds. Coughing horribly and nearly unconscious, Darkwing felt himself being dragged away from the conflagration and into the cool, crisp night air before he let the darkness take over.

Darkwing’s savior rushed back into the searing heat and headed for Negaduck, who was blindly trying to find his way out through the smoke. He grabbed the villain under the shoulders and dragged him toward the door, perspiration gleaming on his strained body. He grunted as he threw him next to Darkwing, then fetched a wheelbarrow from a nearby alley, heaved both ducks into it, and disappeared with them into the first hint of dawn.

~*~