Reformation
Chapter Eleven
The wind whipped through the feathers on his face as he sped through the city streets on the Troublemaker, going over the speed limit by at least twenty miles. It was a feeling he had missed. One of the perks of being the city's public enemy was having no civilian worries--the biggest concern he ever had was concocting his next prison escape. Another upside was seeing the citizens flee at the very sight of him, which was what they were doing even now. Cars swerved to get out of his way, and the late-night strollers ducked behind magazine dispensers. Negaduck laughed wickedly as he watched them flee; he had missed his life as a criminal.
Then again, his short-term experience as a normal, every day civilian also had its positive elements. It had been a nice change of pace, being able to walk down the street without a dozen police officers hot on his tail. He had actually begun to enjoy having non-hostile conversation with other people. Especially with Jacob. It had been a long, long time since he had experienced such a bond with another person, and he felt it would be a loss if everything fell apart at this point.
Even as he continued to speed down the street, not bothering to yield to red lights or pedestrians, Negaduck found himself frowning at the possibility of everything coming to an abrupt end. He was suddenly jarred out of his deep thought when he heard the sound of another motorcycle over the roar of his own engine. When he turned his head to look over his shoulder, he saw the familiar purple coloration of the Ratcatcher closing in on him from behind.
"Cease and desist, Negaduck!" Darkwing shouted while he kept a steady hand on the accelerator. "You may have been able to pull the wool over the rest of the city's eyes, but you won't escape Darkwiiiiing Duck!"
He rolled his eyes. "That's one thing I didn't miss..." Negaduck muttered to himself. With an agitated growl, he revved the engine of his motorcycle and picked up speed just as he tore around the corner.
"Oh no you don't, you maniacal miscreant!" the hero yelled and matched speed to keep up. Tires squealed in protest against the pavement, but Darkwing managed to keep close on his double's tail.
"Damn you, Darkwing Duck!!" Negaduck snarled hatefully upon seeing that his attempt to lose Darkwing was failing.
The ever-resourceful villain continued to tightly grip the Troublemaker's handlebars, and with his other hand he reached beneath the steering panel, searching until his fingertips touched cold steel. With a triumphant grin, Negaduck sat up, now gripping a loaded sleek pistol. He turned another corner down a one-way street, and waited until he heard Darkwing screech around the corner behind him. Negaduck twisted around, raised the gun, and aimed it right between the hero's eyes.
"Yipes!" Darkwing yelped, his eyes going wide from behind the visor of his helmet upon seeing the weapon pointed directly at him.
Negaduck kept his aim steady even as he hit numerous bumps in the road. His finger began to squeeze around the trigger, prepared to put this high-speed chase at a quick end. But just as he was ready to inhale the scent of gun smoke, his finger loosened from around the trigger. It seemed involuntary, and it immediately baffled him. More than anything, it made him downright angry. He turned back around to face the oncoming road, slipped the gun inside his jacket, and let out a frustrated snarl.
Why?? Why couldn't he blow that annoying do-gooder's head off of his shoulders?? It should be so easy!
"Ha! What's the matter, Negaduck?? Your trusty weapon stove-pipe on you??" came Darkwing's taunting voice from over the roaring duet of the motorcycles.
Now the purple-caped mallard retrieved his own notorious weapon: his famous gas gun with a grappling hook loaded into the nozzle. "Let's hope I won't have such a misfire..." he muttered to himself. Then he raised the gas gun in one hand and aimed at the rear of the Troublemaker. "Time to reel you in like the shark that you are, you conniving criminal!"
FOOP!
The gas gun fired the grappling hook. It twisted through the air, having perfect aim at the Troublemaker's backbar. Darkwing smiled smugly in triumph, but perhaps a little too soon. At the last second, Negaduck had turned another sharp left. And unfortunately, the grappling hook caught the post of a streetlight.
"Uh oh..." Darkwing groaned. There was no time to slam on the breaks, and the Ratcatcher continued its pursuit while its driver still grasped the gas gun. The momentum yanked Darkwing back, nearly popping his arm out of its socket. The hero was spun around in a blinding circle, and when everything had stopped moving, he was tied to the light post with the hook's rope.
"Mommy, I want off the merry-go-round..." Darkwing groaned dizzily. He shook his head clear and regained his senses, but only to see the tail lights of the Troublemaker growing dimmer in the distance. "You won't escape, you maniacal mallard!" he shouted while he struggled in vain to free himself.
Negaduck let out a relieved exhale when he saw that Darkwing was no longer behind him. Part of him knew that Darkwing's final words to him were true--they'd find him sooner or later. Unless he got to Jacob, and fast. He reached into his pocket to re-read the address, and then he took a side-street for a short-cut.
"Dr. Bellum, I cannot begin to express the importance of confidentiality in this matter," Jacob urgently spoke into his phone while he paced anxiously in his living room. There was a pause as the excited SHUSH inventor rambled on the other end. "Yes, all of it. I need you to prepare all of the Passidone for me to pick up at the lab in a couple of hours. pause That I cannot say. Just do it."
He gave a stressful sigh as he hung up the phone and slipped it into the pocket of his jacket. He reached over and turned on the antique radio sitting on the bookshelf, and switched the frequency to the local news station.
"...caught in a compromising position with one of his staff in his main office. The mayor was not available for comment," the male news anchor announced through the frequency. "And in more recent news, it was revealed today that Negaduck, the city's former Public Enemy #1 has resurfaced. The masked mallard of menace was supposedly but to death by lethal injection several weeks ago, but has since been spotted by dozens of citizens within the past hour. While this is indeed disturbing news, the local vigilante, Darkwing Duck, has also been seen in pursuit of the villain. We will report to you with further details as they develop."
"Damn it, boy!" Jacob cursed and slammed his hands down on the bookshelf. He exhaled angrily and turned off the radio while he ran his fingers through the feathers on his head. Now it would be a stroke of luck if Negaduck would be able to make it out of the city alive.
A creaking board pulled him out of his morose thoughts. Jacob lifted his head and strained his ears to listen for a repeat of the sound. Another creak. He reached behind a history book on Napoleon and pulled out a .357 revolver. With his black eyes glinting in the firelight, he left his cane against the bookshelf and quietly crept through the dancing shadows. But from around the corner of the entryway, he could see one shadow that swept over the far wall. One that was out of place.
The old SHUSH veteran snarled silently as he pressed his back against the wall, and he pulled back the trigger of the revolver with a quiet 'click.' He could hear the light footsteps of the intruder coming closer. And closer. Still, Jacob obeyed his years of training, and waited patiently for just the right second. And when that moment came, he spun around the corner with a threatening yell and the revolver raised toward his intruder.
"Holy Hades, old man! It's me!"
Jacob's threatening glower fell and his eyes went wide when he came face-to-face with the black masked felon. "Drake?"
Negaduck sneered. "Mind getting that .357 outta my face?"
He looked at the gun in his hand and quickly lowered it. "I didn't think you'd make it, boy. Especially with your 'low profile,'" he pointed out cynically as he led the criminal into the other room.
"Hey, getting through town this way was easier than try to sneak around as a civilian! All of the other citizens stayed out of my way!" Negaduck pointed out defensively as he followed. But his mind quickly returned to the urgent matter at hand. "Look, I need more of those pills. It's wearing off, and if there's any way to salvage any of this and keep me from a second death sentence, I need it fast. I managed to ditch Dipwad Duck for the time being."
"Yes, so I've heard," Jacob muttered as he walked back to the bookshelf to replace his hidden revolver and retrieve his cane. He turned around to face him with a cool, calm demeanor. "I've got the staff gathering up every milligram of Passidone as we speak. We'll stop by to pick it up on our way out of town."
Negaduck raised his brows beneath his black mask questionably, and Jacob remained solemn.
"We need to get you out of the city, Drake. We need to let some time pass so that things may calm down, but until then, it's not safe for you here." Jacob nodded to one of the twin leather easy chairs while he sat in the other across from it. "Sit down. We'll discuss some the possibilities, and where to go from here."
Forty-five minutes went by, and the fire in the fireplace was down to its last few glowing embers. The two mallards had spent the time discussing their options, every one of them which appeared more grim that the previous.
"I should just go back to the Negaverse and lay low for a while," Negaduck mumbled in defeat. "At least I rule there. The only threat I'd face would be Jake."
"Jake is the only threat you should be concerned with," Jacob pointed out. "It doesn't matter if you're here or there. If it weren't for him, none of this would have gone wrong."
They both paused thoughtfully for a long moment. Negaduck shifted his eyes in Jacob's direction, scrutinizing the conflicted expression on his aged face. It was obvious that the old mallard had faced many adventures, had celebrated many triumphs, and suffered many losses. And even though he was a felon, Negaduck could see the anxiety he was going through at that moment, fearful of suffering another loss. But the loss of a potential successful experiment, or the loss of something else?
"Why are you doing this, old man?"
Jacob raised his eyes to meet his questionably. "I beg your pardon?"
Negaduck knew he had heard him, but he repeated himself. "Why are you doing this? Risking your prestigious career for the sake of a mallard who doesn't know how to do anything except commit countless felonies and mindless destruction?" Then he suddenly looked discouraged. "Everyone else is convinced this whole thing has failed."
"Indeed they have. They've given up on the experiment, and they've given up on you," Jacob confirmed. He leaned forward a bit from where he sat in the easy chair with his hands resting atop the crescent handle of his cane, and he stared back at the villain with his hard yet sincere black eyes. There was a spark of determination in them. "I may very well have given up on the experiment as well, Drake. But there's at least one person who won't give up on you."
Negaduck gazed back at him, puzzled, as if he hadn't understood a word he had said. And Jacob only passed him his sly, boyish smile in return.
Then there was a loud. insistent knock on the front door that echoed through the house. Both mallards' heads perked up and looked in the direction of the door, and Negaduck quickly jumped up in alert.
"Quick, boy. Hide yourself," Jacob instructed hurriedly, and Negaduck quickly darted off to do just that.
He quietly made his way through the foyer, all the while turning over the possibilities of who it could be. Very few knew where he lived, and he rarely ever had any visitors, but with news of Negaduck's plight could send anyone to his doorstep. The knocking continued, evolving into eventual impatient banging. Jacob stopped in front of the door, and his hand curled tightly around the handle of his cane. He took in a deep breath and stood tall, preparing himself for the worst. He reached for the bronze handle and pulled the door open...
There on his doorstep was J. Gander Hooter, accompanied by half a dozen uniformed agents. And the old SHUSH director did not look happy.
"J. Gander," Jacob greeted casually. He kept cool, as if nothing was amiss. "What's happening? Have you heard anything more about Negaduck?"
To his surprise, J. Gander waltzed passed him with his agents in tow. "Where is he, Jacob?" he asked, seeing right through his act.
"What?"
J. Gander stopped a few steps into the foyer and looked up at him. "Dr. Bellum said you called, and asked her to prepare all of the Passidone for you to pick up from the lab. You should have known better, Jacob. We all know how she likes to run her mouth." Jacob didn't respond, so he continued further into the house. "So where is he? We need to take him in now."
"I don't know," Jacob replied worriedly, hoping that Negaduck had found a place to hide himself. He followed J. Gander while the agents fanned out through the house in search of the mask mallard. "He called about an hour ago. He wouldn't say where he was, only that he needed his pills."
"That was about the time Darkwing was in pursuit of him," the director pointed out, making it clear that he was having a difficult time believing his old compatriot's words. "We must find him now before he kills another innocent person."
"But he didn't kill Agent Terry!" Jacob insisted. His old friend's skepticism was making him more frustrated by the second. "I saw him just before the incident happened. He was fine, and he had no weapon on him. There's no solid proof!" He limped his way in front of J. Gander to confront him with an almost pleading expression. "John, we don't have to kill him. The Passidone is working. All we have to do is get him back on the medication--"
"Passidone doesn't work, Jacob"
Jacob blinked, taken aback by the statement. "No, Passidone works. We just need to--!"
"It doesn't work," J. Gander cut him off again insistently. "All of the subjects who took Passidone are dead. Their liver shut down eight weeks into the experiment."
Still, Jacob looked confused. "But...he's fine," he pointed out. It didn't make any sense.
J. Gander heaved his shoulders and stared up at him regretfully.
"He was on a placebo."