Reformation
Chapter Ten
The merciless pounding in his head is what brought him back into consciousness. Immediately he wished he had been knocked out again; the headache from the blow he received felt like someone holding a jackhammer to the back of his skull. Drake groaned, and struggled to pull his eyes open. He was on the ground with the cold, hard concrete pressing against the side of his face.
"Well, well. The prodigal son awakens."
The gravelly voice instantly jarred Drake back into reality, and he recalled what had happened before he was struck n the back of the head in the alley. His eyes snapped open, and he blinked furiously to clear his blurry vision. Just hearing his voice made the young mallard's teeth gnash together.
"What a relief. I was afraid I had killed you."
"I wouldn't want to give you the pleasure," Drake seethed hatefully. He hissed in pain as he pulled himself to his knees, and he put a hand to his forehead in a vain attempt to cease the throbbing. And when he lifted his eyes, he was met with the icy green irises of Jake Mallard.
Jake folded his arms across his chest, and tsked his tongue with a shake of his head. "Look at you. I never thought I'd see the day when Drake Mallard would be resurrected from the ashes of the public enemy."
"I'm surprised you even remember who Drake Mallard is, you scum-sucking snake-in-the-grass." Drake slowly rose to his feet, swaying a couple of times until he managed to find his balance. They were in some sort of old furniture warehouse, and the dark air was musty and stale with dust. And it was only the two of them there; Jake had brought no reinforcements. He turned to face his father defiantly, no longer showing even an ounce of fear.
For a long moment, the two mallards stared through one another, neither yielding to the other. They knew what the other was thinking. They both knew they wanted to kill one another at that very moment. Drake could find no sign of the man whom he had once proudly called his father--the once successful businessman who cherished his family and was respected by everyone who knew his name. Now there was nothing but the hollow stare of a cold-hearted man who had lost everything of true value, and the only way he could fill that void was by living a life of vile deceit and wickedness.
It was Drake who spoke first. "Well?" he snorted bitterly. "What are you waiting for? You'd better finish me off before someone else steals your thunder. We all know what kind of damage that would do to your ego."
"Bite your tongue, boy," Jake threatened lowly, shoving his face into his threateningly. "That may very well be the case all in due time. Every police officer and SHUSH agent in the city is searching for you even as we speak. For murdering Agent Terry."
"Well, they'll be in for quite a surprise when they discover it was one of their own men, won't they?" he retorted in a snide sneer.
But the SHUSH agent raised one of his bushy eyebrows. "Oh? Really?" He chuckled, sounding more amused than worried, and he calmly began to circle him. "Do you honestly think that they are going to take your word over mine, 'Negaduck'?"
But the ex-con remained defiant. "They had that place rigged with surveillance. They've got every move you made on tape, including you shooting Agent Terry!"
"You mean this tape?"
Jake held up the black VHS tape he had pilfered from the surveillance room. He smiled when he could see the disappointed frown on Drake's face, and then he smashed the tape in half over his knee. The evidence shattered into pieces, and he crumpled and ripped the vinyl ribbon until it was beyond repair. He smirked and tossed the tape's remnants carelessly over his shoulders.
"Don't look so worried, Drake. Perhaps my morose double Jacob will believe your story, considering he's established such a strong fatherly bond with you."
"He's been more fatherly than you." The bitter words came out of Drake's bill before he could think to stop himself from saying them. Even he didn't know if he had said them in quick defense, or if they were the truth.
"Such a vile temper, Drake. I thought Jacob's little 'wonder drug' would have addressed that problem," Jake chuckled as he continued to circle around behind him.
But the young mallard's temper was already in the rapid rise. His hands clenched into tight fists, and a low growl rose in his throat. And the way Jake was circling him like a vulture was making him even more unnerved. The once unfaltering public enemy had never felt so trapped and intimidated. "I'll show you a vile temper, you--!"
When Drake spun around, Jake's cold eyes were there waiting for him. "What are you going to do, Drake??" he challenged deviously. Jake even began to advance on him, keeping their faces just inches apart, and Drake was forced to step backward. "What do you plan on doing now, hmm?? Go back to the Negaverse? I'll find you there, and you know it. And now you are the top priority on every frequency within 500 miles. You won't get two blocks before your gunned down."
"Well, consider that challenge accepted," Drake retorted aggressively. He felt his back bump against the wall and he had nowhere else to go.
"Ah, but you forget, Drake," Jake began to remind him, his eyes twinkling with an excited wickedness. "You'll only have to dodge their bullets if you manage to dodge mine..."
He flashed him a demonic grin, which it looked as if Drake had been looking in a mirror. And then, Drake's bill twisted into an angry sneer, right before he swung his right fist through the air at his father's head. But the trained agent had been expecting it. He effortlessly diverted the blow with a forearm and threw Drake to the ground.
"Ahhgh!" Drake grunted painfully as his face was met with the hard floor.
Jake chuckled and straightened the lapels of his suit jacket, standing proudly over the fallen criminal. "What's the matter, Negaduck? That Passidone turn you a bit too docile to violently defend yourself?"
His blue eyes narrowed, becoming more enraged every time Jake spoke a word. He planted his palms firmly on the ground, and once his had pulled air back into his lungs, Drake swung his legs through the air, and Jake was quickly knocked from his feet. And as soon as his back hit the floor, Drake pounced onto him like a savage beast. Immediately his hands went to his throat, mercilessly trying to strangle his senior while keeping him pinned beneath him.
The two mallards growled fiercely while they attempted to gain the upper hand of one another. But even in his mid-fifties, Agent Jake Mallard had strength which defied his age. It didn't take him long to overcome the younger, and in seconds, they had rolled around until Jake now hand his son pinned beneath him.
"Arrgh! Get off of me, you son of a bitch!" Drake snarled ferociously and continued to try and pull himself free.
But Jake only laughed down at him in triumph. "That temper of yours, Drake. Sounds like someone should pop another pill!"
Instead of fighting back with biting words, Drake was able to pull his foot back, and thrust it upward--right into Jake's groin.
"Ohhh!!"
Immediately, Jake rolled off of him and crumpled to the floor. He was groaning in pain as Drake jumped to his feet and searched for anything he could use as a weapon. The only thing he could find was a crowbar leaning against an old crate, and he was quickly rushing forward to grab it in his hands. Drake spun around, clutching it in his hands like a baseball bat and prepared to crush Jake's skull. But instead, he was face with the barrel of a pistol. Jake blindly pulled the trigger, and the bullet hit the crowbar at such close proximity that it flew from Drake's hands. It clanged to the floor several yards away. Drake looked to where it had fallen and then back to Jake, who was still on the floor with his gun pointed up at him. He pulled the trigger again, and this time the bullet whizzed by Drake's head, so close that he could hear it cut through the air.
Drake knew he didn't have a choice at that moment. He turned and sprinted through the dark warehouse in search of an exit. He could hear Jake growl angrily as he rose to his feet, took aim, and fired another shot. Fortunately, Drake had disappeared into the shadows. By that time Jake followed in pursuit, he came upon the opened side-door to the warehouse, and there was no sign of the criminal in the night.
Jake narrowed his eyes. But this was just a minor roadblock which he was determined to get around. He pulled a cell phone from his pocket, dialed a number, and held it to his ear.
"This is Agent Jake Mallard. Put me through to J. Gander, right now..."
He watched from behind the trunk of a large tree until he saw Jake limp back inside the warehouse. Once out of sight, Drake exhaled deeply, taking a moment to gather himself before sprinting off in the direction of a nearby road. He needed a place to hide, he needed some sort of transportation, he needed to change his appearance. No doubt the entire city would be hunting for him. But something Jake had said made him realize something else he needed.
He needed those pills.
Soon, the villain found himself safe within the confines of his favorite sanctuary--an old asylum that had been out of operation for at least a decade. It was ironic how at home he had always felt inside of that hideout. Except for now. Instead, Drake felt himself overcome with anxiety since his confrontation with Jake. And the violent face-off seemed to have awakened his violent tendencies that had been suppressed in the past several weeks. He needed to get his dose of the rage-controlling drugs before he relapsed.
But now the entire city was on the look-out for him. There was no one to accompany him now, thanks to Jake and his lust to kill him. No one...except for one person. Drake lifted his head from where he sat behind the desk which at one time had once belonged to the chief physician of the asylum. He had been deep in thought for nearly an hour, fighting the conflict in his mind. But finally he came to the only resolution available. Reaching into the pocket of the brown jacket he wore, he dug around desperately until he found what he had been looking for. He pulled out a business card with Jacob Mallard's name and private number printed.
Jacob, meanwhile, had been experiencing similar frustration. He had withdrawn to the secluded dwelling of his luxurious manor, hidden away in the outskirts of Saint Canard. He paced restlessly back in forth in front of the ornate fireplace with all of his thoughts on Drake, wondering where he presently was, if SHUSH had caught him, what Jake would do he got to the boy first...
He had even taken it upon himself to drive through the city at least three times in search of the ex-con who was once more on the run from the law, but this time for an act that Jacob had a hard time believing he was responsible for committing. But he had found no sign of him, and deterred for the time being, Jacob had retreated to solitude to think of which path to take next.
It was getting late, nearing ten 'o clock. He had heard no word from SHUSH, and they were making sure that the public enemy's escape would not be publicized. Jacob was just about to give in to the idea of sweeping the city once more for any sign of Drake when there was a shrill trio of rings from the inside pocket of his blazer. Jumping to the conclusion that it was J. Gander calling, Jacob ceased his pacing and answered the phone.
"Yeah?" he answered, sounding irritable.
"Jacob?"
Instantly the old mallard's head perked. "Drake?" Instinctively, Jacob looked around him in search of anyone who may be watching or listening in. "Where the hell are you?"
"I'm at one of my hideouts," came the rushed reply.
"What the hell do you think you're doing??" Jacob heard himself seethe angrily into the phone. "Now you're fleeing the scene of a crime? Drake, you've just jeopardized yourself!"
"I had no choice!" Drake retaliated defensively. "Jake ambushed me and nearly killed me. What else was I supposed to do??"
Jacob scoffed cynically. "Perhaps you should have shot him like you did Agent Terry."
He didn't know why he had made such an accusing statement. He truly believed Drake was innocent. At least, that was what he wanted to believe. There was a long, silent pause on the other end of the phone before Drake spoke again.
"I didn't shoot him. It was Jake. He pulled me into the alley and shot Agent Terry when he saw the commotion. He knocked me out, and when I woke up he was standing over me in an old warehouse. I would have killed him but he had a gun pointed at my head!"
Drake sounded more wounded than angry--wounded that he now had to convince Jacob, the only person he trusted, of his innocence. Now Jacob returned a long moment of silence, taking in everything Drake had said. His words, and the tone of his voice. Even Jacob could sense the ounce of worry in his voice. Why had he thought, even for a minute, that Drake had shot the SHUSH agent? What motive did he have? If he wanted to escape, he could have easily done so, and he certainly wouldn't have felt inclined to phone him in a panic.
But before Jacob could even voice an apology, Drake cut in again, his words coming more quickly now. "I need more Passidone. I think I'm having a relapse here. I need it now. Maybe then you could convince J. Gander that I'm innocent."
"If you had a violent confrontation with Jake, the hatred and emotion could cause your rage to resurface," Jacob agreed, keeping his voice a leveled calm. "And don't worry about J. Gander and SHUSH for the time being. Right now, we need to concentrate on keeping you away from the authorities. Especially Jake. Quick, boy. Get something to write with."
There was a pause, and Jacob could hear shuffling on the other end followed by Drake's voice. "Alright."
"Get to this address: 72 Bayview Road. You'll be safe here."
Even as he wrote down the address, Drake's brows raised curiously, coming to a conclusion. "'Here'?"
Jacob sighed reluctantly. Very few knew of his whereabouts, and he had preferred keeping it that way. But there was no other choice. Drake's life depended on it. "Be inconspicuous, Drake. And be sure that no one follows you."
The two mallards hung up the phone in unison, and Drake leaned forward over the desk, looking at the slip of paper in his hand on which he'd written the address to Jacob's home. For a moment, he contemplated whether he should go or not. What if it were a trap? What if Jacob intended to turn him into SHUSH rather than risk his own tailfeathers in helping him? It was a perfectly plausible thought.
But Drake could smell betrayal a mile away. He had put a lot of trust in Jacob since he saved him from lethal injection, and he had yet been given a reason to question his loyalty.
And should Jacob turn on him? Drake would be ready to defend himself, prepared to fight to the end. But not as Drake. No, Drake Mallard wouldn't do that. He couldn't do that.
He rose to his feet, a determined glower etched on his face. Drake knew exactly what to do. And minutes later, he was standing in front of a full-body mirror, yellow suit covering his torso and a black cape hooked over his shoulders. The red fedora was rightfully fitted onto his head where it belonged. And lastly, he brought the black mask to his face to shadow his blue eyes once again. When he looked back into the mirror, he saw his reflection grinning deviously back at him.
Negaduck was back, and within minutes he was revving his crude motorcycle to life and tearing out into the street in the direction of Saint Canard.