Title: Tension Convention
Author: Cheezey
Characters/Pairings: Fearsome Four, Darkwing and crew, the
Muddlefoots, and a handful of OCs. Darkwing/Morgana is an element in later
chapters, although not a main plot point of the story.
Rating: T
Genre/Warnings: Drama, General
Summary: When St. Canard hosts a Whiffle Boy fan convention,
Quackerjack enlists Megavolt, Bushroot, and Liquidator to help him get his
revenge.
Status: Complete
Chapter Nine
Tuesday morning was a very tense one in the Mallard household. Darkwing had been told that he was expected at the scene of the ransom drop no later than eight to assure that they would have their forces undercover and in place early enough to fool Quackerjack and the others into thinking that they were complying. When Gosalyn made a comment during breakfast about how cool it would be to see how they pulled it off, she was surprised to have her father inform her in a no-nonsense tone that she would be going to school and not to the crime scene. Naturally she protested, but Drake was firm and Launchpad knew better than to get involved, so he just quietly chomped down his breakfast during the argument.
Once Gosalyn was on the bus despite her loud and vocal objection to it, Drake helped Launchpad change his bandages and sat down in the chair to head over to the tower. That time his injured sidekick did not even bother taking his usual seat opposite Drake to go along. Although every instinct in him wanted to ignore Drake’s and the doctor’s orders to stay out of danger, he also knew it would do no good to argue with Drake about it. “Good luck over there today, DW,” Launchpad said as Drake was reaching for the statue. “I’m sure you’ll get them like you always do.”
Drake nodded. “Yeah, if the police don’t screw it up for me.”
“You know if you need anything—”
“If I need anything you can reasonably help with,” Drake cut him off, giving his bandaged arm a pointed look, “you’ll be the first one I call.” He flashed his sidekick a determined and confident smile. “Now it’s time to get dangerous!” Then, with a quick push of the statue’s head, he disappeared from the living room and was on his way to the tower.
Sighing, Launchpad picked up the television remote. There was not much on, but he supposed at least he might get to see some of the action on the news, or if not, something else to distract him. He was just about resigned to his quiet boredom when he heard the front door open and then slam shut right after. He looked over in surprise. “Gosalyn?”
The spirited little redhead was leaning against the door with a mischievous look that changed to a startled one when she realized that she had just been caught playing hooky. “Oh… hi, Launchpad,” she said with a sheepish smile. “I, uh, figured you’d be at the Tower seeing Dad off.”
“And I figured you’d be at school, doing… well, I don’t know. School stuff.” He clicked the television off and went over to her.
“I didn’t want to be there any more than you want to be here,” she admitted. “We should be at the Hotel Swanlord helping Dad.”
Launchpad gave her a sad smile and nodded. “Yeah, I know how you feel.”
The fact that he had agreed instead of immediately telling her to go back to school emboldened Gosalyn, and she tossed her book bag aside and looked up at Launchpad with fire in her eyes. “So why don’t we tell Mr. Rules-Are-Only-For-Me-To-Break to stick it and go there ourselves and help out? He might need us!”
Launchpad’s gaze drifted toward the window, and he imagined Darkwing tied up while the police struggled to contend with Quackerjack, Liquidator, Megavolt, and Bushroot. Suddenly he felt more stir crazy than ever. He nodded to Gosalyn, although the motion came out exaggerated from the medication in his system. “We did promise we’d stay out of things,” he said, pausing a moment to think, “but there’s no harm in watching from the sidelines. There’s a park across the street from the Swanlord. We can say, uh, I’m home-schooling you today or something.”
“Yeah, in criminal justice! A first-hand educational demonstration.” Gosalyn beamed. “Keen gear!”
“I just hope your teacher will accept that on the note, and that your father will actually sign it,” Launchpad replied, while Gosalyn shrugged.
“We’ll worry about that later. Come on, Launchpad! Let’s get there before all the cool stuff happens.” She grabbed him by his good arm and dragged him over to the chairs while he exchanged a conspiring smile with her.
“Heh heh, lead the way!”
Over in Bushroot’s greenhouse, Eddie Flood was dealing with a similar parental harshing of his enthusiasm. While Bushroot waited by the door adjusting the sleeves on his Lawn Medic costume, Liquidator was still holding his ground and giving his protesting son a stern look.
“Come on, Dad! I want to go! I won’t get hurt. You saw how I can handle things last night!”
“You handled things last night because you were locked away safely in a one hundred percent door and window free bathroom where no one could see you. Now I won’t say it again: This offer is void to minors and those without super-villain powers.”
Eddie held up the Whiffle Boy laser gun. “Who needs super powers when you’ve got one of these? You saw how good I am with it yesterday when I blasted a room full of Koo Koo Fizzy Water down the drain.”
“Studies have shown that inanimate objects are far less challenging and dangerous than armed policemen and loud-mouthed crime-fighters,” Liquidator argued. “You’re going to stay here with Sweet Pea and Spike unless you want to be the recipient of a two-days-for-one-afternoon-out grounding offer.”
“That sucks.” Eddie kicked at the dirt floor.
Liquidator raised a fluid eyebrow. “Your customer dissatisfaction has been duly noted, and we’ll discuss terms and conditions for potential future outings of the super-villain sort when I return.” He flowed over to the door and paused before following Bushroot out. “Remember that any violation of our agreement will void those offers.”
“Yeah, fine,” Eddie muttered as his father shut the door behind him. He went over to the greenhouse wall to watch them leave while Spike and Sweet Pea followed at his heels. He stood there until Liquidator and Bushroot were out of sight and then he turned around, nearly tripping over the fly traps as he did so. Eddie gave Spike and Sweet Pea each a pat, and then grinned mischievously. “Right. Like I’m going to miss out on this kind of action. You two guard this place, okay?” He gave his Whiffle Boy laser gun a confident twirl. “I’m going to watch Dad and Bushroot and their other Fearsome Five friends kick some ass.”
He reached into an open bag of fertilizer spikes that Bushroot had told him were Spike’s treats, pulled out two, and tossed one to each fly trap. Spike and Sweet Pea each leapt up and caught their munchie while Eddie headed for the door, calling out to the fly traps as he left. “Don’t trash the place while I’m gone!”
Darkwing was almost as dissatisfied with his assigned role in the defeat and rescue operation as his daughter and sidekick were at being ordered to stay out of it. The caped crime-fighter was, as the villains specified, in the process of being bound up in ropes by a couple of officers right in the middle of the street. Police cars, emergency vehicles, and barricades had the block in front of the Swanlord blocked off from traffic, but that did not stop people from behind the blockades from peeking over and pointing and staring, and there were plenty of them considering the posh hotel was right across the street from a public park.
How humiliating. Darkwing shot a glare at a nerdy guy in a Whiffle Boy T-shirt that snickered at him from behind one of the blockades until an officer shooed him way. Turning away, he saw Detective Araucana talking to a pretty duck that he recognized as Luna Darkfeather—not because of her celebrity status as a supermodel, but because his ego would never forget the one who had dismissed him as the “hero-type-guy” on national television. She seemed even more out of sorts now than she did then, shooting nervous glances all around and fidgeting where she stood.
Heh, I thought eye candy-type models were supposed to be confident, he thought snidely as he watched her. While a part of him did feel bad for her with her boyfriend in the clutches of Quackerjack and his cronies, it seemed to him that she should not be all that worried with so many police and Darkwing Duck around to protect her.
“And this is all the cash?” she asked Araucana, her voice a bit hoarser than Darkwing recalled it being on television.
Guess she’s been melodramatically crying her eyes out off screen, too. In a moment of sympathy Darkwing felt a touch of guilt for his harsh thoughts about her, but not enough to stop them.
Meanwhile the detective motioned to the two large briefcases and the sizable backpack in front of the model. “All in small bills, as per Liquidator’s demands.” Her tone was businesslike, although she did not bother to keep her contempt for the villains out of it. “You’ll just need to hold onto it until you get to the drop point, and open them to show that the money is in there. Hopefully that’ll be enough to get them to let Mr. Strongbill go and get him safely away from them so we can recover the cash and apprehend them.” She paused. “But even if it doesn’t go as smoothly as that, you’ll be fine. Just stay calm and do everything I told you to when we went over it.”
Luna nodded and reached into the backpack, pulling out a thick wad of cash. “I can’t believe it… it’s all real?” She traced a prettily manicured finger over the edge of the stack of twenties, staring at it.
“Yeah. Too bad our fundraisers never work this well for raising money, or we wouldn’t have to fight city hall for our raises,” Araucana quipped wryly. “Maybe we ought to talk to your agent about booking you for one next time.”
“Heh.” Luna stared at the money for a moment longer before putting it back in the bag. She zipped the backpack closed and then straightened, smoothing her long hair back into place as she did so. “Well, if it all goes according to plan...” Her voice trailed off for a moment. “I mean, all I can think about is Brant. I hope he’s,” she sighed, slurring her words a bit, “safe.”
Darkwing frowned, unimpressed by the model’s flaky
demeanor.
I hope this silly supermodel doesn’t get anyone killed.
Why couldn’t they have her be
the decoy instead of me? Of
course he knew the answer to that, but it did not make him any less frustrated.
Then, as if Darkwing’s mood was not already hitting bottom, Officer Krop showed up to ensure that it stayed there. The porcine policeman approached Araucana and Luna, surveying the area around them with an arrogant air. “You ladies got everything under control here?”
“Sure do,” Araucana said confidently. “I was showing Ms. Darkfeather here how we’ve got the cash set up and was about to tell her how we’ve got one of those new microchip trackers sewn into the fabric of the backpack here and in the lining of the briefcases.”
Krop smiled at Luna in an appreciative way that made Darkwing roll his eyes. Even if Miss Pretty Pants wasn’t dating Brant Strongbill, I’m sure she wouldn’t look twice at you, he thought nastily, his ire now focused on what he considered the far greater of the two annoyances.
“If one of those bozos manages to get away with the cash after releasing Mr. Strongbill,” Krop bragged, “we’ll be able to track them down anywhere.”
“Assuming they aren’t smart enough to take it out of the bag,” Darkwing spoke up, giving Krop an unimpressed look.
While Araucana and Luna seemed to find Darkwing’s remark amusing, Officer Krop certainly did not, and he glowered at the bound crime-fighter. “Speaking of bags, I thought you had to be bagged and gagged for this mission, Darkwing Duck.” He strode over to where Darkwing was bound and picked up the gag that the officers who had tied him up had not put on him yet. “I’m sure they were just being nice and giving you some extra time to flap your bill, but I think I’ll be nice to everyone else and save our ears now. Those goons are due to show up soon anyway.”
Darkwing began to voice an insulting protest, but Krop deftly tied the gag on before Darkwing could get out more than an angry “mmmph, ummph, UMPH!” A number of onlookers chuckled, officer and civilian alike, and Luna Darkfeather’s spot on his list of annoying people was cemented when he saw her snicker along with them.
Brainless bimbo, he thought sourly. We’ll see how much she’s laughing when her ‘Brant baby’ is safe and rescued because of me! Darkwing savored the fantasy of her apologizing profusely to him and gushing with admiration and awe at his heroics while Krop’s superiors admonished him for his rudeness and general incompetence. It improved his mood slightly, at least until he caught sight of two more familiar faces by one of the police barricades.
“Wow, they’ve already got Darkwing Duck tied up,” Rill Flood said to his mother, pointing at the incapacitated hero.
“Heh. If I didn’t think it was incredibly stupid of them to tie up one of the only ones who’s actually defeated the Fearsome Five, I’d applaud the use of St. Canard’s tax dollars in gagging him.”
The backhanded compliment made Darkwing see red, and he was
too busy imagining the smug woman having to eat her words to notice Launchpad
and Gosalyn near one of the other barricades and a suspicious-looking balloon
vendor behind them.
I’ll show them all!
Darkwing’s thoughts raced as ego and determination fueled his resolve.
Those stuck up cops will still be sucking on their coffee and chomping
their donuts by the time I defeat those four kooky kidnapping mischievous
miscreants myself!
He surveyed the scene smugly. With my extensive experience fighting felonious fiends, I can easily predict how this little scheme will play out. He eyed the water fountain, empty and turned off just as the villains had expected it to be. Liquidator, devious drip that he is, will think he has the drop on us by making a dramatic entrance through the water fountain, spouting sales pitch threats and expecting to catch us by surprise. Megavolt will burst onto the scene in some electrifying manner while Quackerjack bounces in like he’s having a ball and Bushroot will hedge his bets in those manicured hedges over there. Ironically, he did not pay any mind to the Lawn Medic truck parked right on the other side of the barricade, or the uniformed employee working on the lawn.
All I’ll have to do is break free with my buzz saw cufflinks and trick Megavolt into backing into the fountain, where Liquidator will short him out and Megavolt’s surge will stun him, Darkwing mused with confidence. Once his pals are played out, Quackerjack will crack like the nut he is and lose what’s left of his marbles while Bushroot will just lose his nerve and wilt off like an annual in a hard frost. Easy as one-two-three! I’ll single-handedly save Brant Strongbill and recover the ransom cash while the police round up those defeated deviants and throw them in the slammer.
Darkwing was feeling quite secure in his estimation of the situation as Detective Araucana approached him. “You ready, Darkwing? We’re expecting them anytime now.”
He nodded back to her.
“Good. We’re going get into position. Good luck.” She gave him a pat on the shoulder before heading off to her post. Luna Darkfeather continued to glance around nervously from where she was standing with the cash and Officer Tibull. She looked over at Darkwing and stared for a moment, but before he could guess at what she might have been about to say, Brooke Flood called out to her.
“Good luck, Luna, and be careful.”
Luna spun around and gave the canine woman an odd look before answering. “Oh. Thanks.”
Brooke smirked at the friend she had made over the course of the ordeal. “And if you get a chance to smack my ex with one of those briefcases, please do.”
“Right.” Luna’s response was distracted, and Brooke figured that she was probably under too much stress to chat any more, so she just gave her a small wave and withdrew next to Rill against the barricade.
It was good that she did, for a few moments later the villains finally did make their appearance. With a loud whoop that could be heard by everyone in the area, Quackerjack burst out of a third story window of a building on the next block on a pogo-stick spewing jet-like flames out of the bottom. Brant Strongbill was at his side, tied up to the shaft of the pogo-stick with a blindfold on while Quackerjack kept an arm around his shoulders, holding a pair of his wind-up teeth against the actor’s neck. “It’s plaaaaaaaaytime!”
Gasps and shrieks rippled through the crowd while the police drew their guns and Darkwing started struggling in his binds. Although he knew he was supposed to stay put until Strongbill was released, Araucana had said that at the right time she expected he’d use his buzz saw cufflinks to break free. Now was as good a time as any…
…except that that they seemed to be jammed. On the first wriggle to activate them, nothing happened. Then a second try yielded no better results. “Oh, come on!” Darkwing exclaimed, although it came out as muffled noise that no one could hear or understand anyway due to his gag and the noise of the chaos erupting all around. He tried a third time to trigger his cufflinks, but again he had no luck. What was going on? He was the hero! This wasn’t supposed to happen to him!
As Quackerjack bounced toward the front steps of the Swanlord, he threw the teeth he had been holding against the bound Strongbill’s neck into the crowd, making the spectators by the barricades scatter. He whipped out another set and did the same with them, aiming for another part of the crowd, and then threw a third for good measure. Those went in the direction of a cluster of police cars where several armed officers were crouching behind them. Finally Quackerjack took out a fourth set, but he put that one up against Strongbill’s neck like he had the first while the other villains made their grand entrances.
Screams erupted in the park where Megavolt blew up his balloons with a surge of electricity. He tore off what Darkwing saw was a hideous rainbow afro clown wig to disguise himself, revealing the usual plug hat that he wore beneath. He then slung his battery pack, disguised as a helium canister, onto his back and launched the balloon tank he had been using to his side, making more of the crowd panic and yell. Their screams multiplied tenfold when Megavolt then shot a bolt of energy at it, making it explode so violently that Darkwing realized the crazy rat must have been using hydrogen in those balloons instead of helium.
That distraction was more than enough to allow Quackerjack to hop onto center stage by the Swanlord’s fountain with Strongbill and for Bushroot to turn on the sprinklers without anyone noticing. Water came out onto the lawn in a spectacular spray—far from Megavolt, as the watery villain had promised—while Bushroot grew out of the offending Lawn Medic costume and brought the flower beds on each side of the hotel’s grand front staircase to life.
Come on, come on! Darkwing fought with his cufflinks and struggled in his binds, debating whether or not he should just use the ancient and painful Carpathian bone dislocation trick to get out instead. Liquidator’s water swirled into a violent tornado-like waterspout before he assumed his usual shape in the center of it all. “St. Canard, are you ready to make a deal?” His glib voice boomed over the chaos while Bushroot’s plants snaked wildly behind him and Megavolt antagonized the policemen advancing on them. Liquidator spotted two more officers sneaking up on the other side and shot them with a hard spray of water.
“Any police interference will void this deal and your beloved ‘Whiffle Boy’s’ life as per the terms of our agreement.” His tone was menacing, and it sent chills through both Rill and Brooke as they recognized it. It inspired a shiver of awe in Eddie, although Liquidator was unaware that any of them were there.
“And you know the Liquidator means business. He’s all business!” cackled Quackerjack. He snapped his wind-up teeth at Strongbill’s neck feathers, creating a puff of white fluff around them and grazing the skin beneath hard enough to draw blood. “Don’t toy with us! That’s my job.”
Megavolt noticed Officer Krop taking aim at him with his gun, and scowled. “Of course, if we have to shock some sense into you…” He discharged a fierce blast of voltage at Krop, and the surge knocked him flat onto his behind and sent him skidding back several feet. Darkwing would have found that sight rewarding had he been able to savor it, but he was too preoccupied with his own situation to fully appreciate it.
Still at Luna’s side, Officer Tibull gave her a nudge. “We’d better get their attention and calm them down now.” Luna nodded back, oddly calmer now that chaos had broken out than she had been beforehand. She was already wearing the backpack and clutched a briefcase firmly in each hand as she stepped forward.
Liquidator noticed and swished over to her while Tibull shouted for everyone to stand down. “The Luna Darkfeather! I’m flattered,” Liquidator greeted her with a leer as he approached. “Are you here to make me a cash offer that I can’t refuse in exchange for him?” He pointed to the captive Strongbill, and Luna nodded meekly.
“Yes.”
His fluid eyes lit up with unashamed avarice, and he swirled around Luna in an aggressive move and swept her off her feet, briefcases, bag, and all. “Then let’s have a conference where you can put your money down!”
Out in the crowd, Launchpad and Gosalyn watched everything happen and exchanged worried looks. “Why hasn’t Dad gotten out yet? He must know that the police aren’t gonna be able to handle this?”
“I don’t know,” Launchpad said, glancing anxiously between them and her. “I feel like we’ve got do something. Something’s wrong if DW hasn’t—”
Gosalyn didn’t even wait for him to finish his thought. “I know! C’mon, Launchpad! We need to help Dad!”
She burst into a run, and Launchpad followed hot on her heels, plowing his way through the crowd along with her. There was no time to plan, so each of them acted on instinct. Gosalyn’s small size was an advantage and she was able to shove and weave through the adult spectators with little resistance. She easily ducked under the police barriers and barreled toward Darkwing without a concern about the shouting officers who were shocked to see a little girl burst onto the crime scene and head straight for their bound Darkwing decoy.
While Gosalyn ran for Darkwing, Launchpad decided to help by taking out one of the villains. It happened to be the same one he owed one for for injuring his arm. As he got closer to Megavolt he noticed that the electrical villain had spotted Gosalyn trying to help Darkwing. Before the rat had a chance to fry either of them, though, Launchpad grabbed a bottle of Koo Koo Fizzy Water off of a hot dog cart and began to shake it with his uninjured arm. He shouted to the vendor that he’d pay him back, woodchuck’s honor, and then after loosening the cap he threw it as hard as he could at Megavolt with his good arm. That time Launchpad’s determination trumped his innate and chemical-induced clumsiness, and luck was on his side. The fizzy water, fizzier for its shaking and rough flight, slammed right into Megavolt’s back and doused him in wet carbonated pain.
The rat let out a scream as the water shorted him out, and it got the attention of the other three villains momentarily. Bushroot then noticed Gosalyn at Darkwing’s side, and he brought a shrub near them to life. “Get that girl!”
Liquidator also saw Gosalyn helping Darkwing, and he took it upon himself to ensure the security of their scheme. He glanced down at Luna, still caught in his wet grasp. “It looks like our deal is temporarily off the table. However, we’ll lock in your interest with your full down payment in the meantime!” He called out to Bushroot’s hedge. “Leaves up! Keep our ransom safe with Bushroot bank hedge funds!” The water dog then washed Luna and all of the money she held right into the bush’s waiting branches.
Bushroot cackled as he headed toward his leafy sentry. “I’ve always wanted to branch out into banking!” He summoned a vine to take the briefcases from the struggling Luna, and then another to chase the cops away from Megavolt, who had just gotten back on his feet and was looking for a power transformer to recharge himself on.
Meanwhile, Gosalyn figured out what Darkwing was trying to shout through his gag and grabbed his wrist. “Better trade these things in to S.H.U.S.H. for new ones,” she muttered as she triggered his right cufflink. It turned out that it had just been stuck, low on lubricant, and roared to life. Gosalyn backed away just in time to avoid getting cut as Darkwing began to slice himself free.
Liquidator took advantage of that and dove at Gosalyn. She let out a shriek as the watery villain grabbed her, for Darkwing could not intervene yet as he was still cutting himself free of the ropes. “Increase your profits with a bonus hostage! Now available for the ransom sum plus the valuables and cash on everyone in this crowd, or her safety isn’t guaranteed!”
“Hey!” Gosalyn kicked and yelled as Liquidator grabbed her, but it did her no good. He was far stronger than she was and her kicks had no effect other than getting her soaked.
Seeing his daughter in danger was the last straw for Darkwing. He threw aside his severed binds and gag and narrowed his eyes in angry determination. “I don’t think so. It’s time to get dangerous!” He drew his gas gun. “You and your pals’ watered-down scheme are washed up, Liquidator! Now let her go or suck—”
“Don’t you shoot at my dad!” Eddie Flood’s angry shout interrupted Darkwing’s threat as the boy leapt over one of the barricades brandishing his Whiffle Boy gun. Stunned and caught completely off guard, both Liquidator and Darkwing looked over just as Eddie pulled the trigger. A destructive flash of red laser light shot toward Darkwing, making the caped hero yelp and drop to the ground. The blast caught the edge of his cape, singeing it, and Liquidator stared at his son in shock.
While Liquidator was struck speechless, Quackerjack bounced toward them on his pogo-stick and tossed another set of chattering teeth in the direction of the police that ran toward them and Eddie. “Shooting Darkwing Duck; that might be the first useful thing Whiffle Boy taught anyone, kid!” He cackled in approval while the police contended with his teeth.
From where he lay on the ground, Darkwing pointed his gas gun at the area he expected Quackerjack’s pogo-stick to land and shot out an oily mix that was in one of the special canisters he had loaded. “Sorry, Quackerjack, but the bad guy always gets waffled in a good game of Whiffle Boy.” Quackerjack did not see the goo until a moment too late, and his pogo-stick landed right in the center of it. It slipped as soon as it made contact, toppling over both the toy-maker and his bound hostage. Strongbill and the pogo-stick slid one way across the pavement while Quackerjack went the other, and he collided into Liquidator with a spectacular splash. The force was enough to knock Gosalyn out of Liquidator’s grasp, and she fell to the ground.
As soon as he recovered, Liquidator went for Darkwing himself instead of Gosalyn, while Quackerjack scurried over toward Strongbill before the police could free him. Bushroot saw it happening, and sent a vine toward the cops heading in to help Strongbill while Darkwing and Liquidator locked in a wet grapple. Gosalyn also saw it, though, and when she spotted the set of teeth that Quackerjack had been holding against Strongbill’s neck chattering on their side, she grabbed them and hurled them at the toymaker before he could get to his hostage. All of her sports practice paid off, for with the same pitch that had won her many a softball game, the chomping teeth she threw landed right on Quackerjack’s rump. He jumped and howled in both pain and indignation while three police officers broke past the vine, which was still fighting six other policemen, and they dog-piled onto the toymaker to apprehend him.
Elsewhere in the chaos, Launchpad caught sight of Bushroot directing away the plants holding Luna and the money. Determined not to let that happen, he grabbed the hot dog vendor’s cart, which was now abandoned as its owner had long since fled the scene in panic. Grabbing it firmly with both hands, Launchpad pushed it forward and started to run, ignoring the pain tingling in his injured elbow as he charged through the thick of the crowd. There was no time to think, just act, and if Launchpad knew one thing, it was that most things could be stopped with a good crash.
“Gangway! Comin’ through!” Launchpad barreled forward as onlookers parted in haste to get out of his way. He blew past the flimsy sawhorse being used as a barricade with the momentum the metal cart and his own adrenaline run had built up.
From where he was almost done recharging on a power transformer, Megavolt’s goggle-covered eyes widened in alarm as he saw Launchpad and his hot dog cart heading Bushroot’s way. “Bushy! Look out for the weenie!”
His warning came a moment too late, and Bushroot turned around just in time for Launchpad and the cart to collide headlong into the hedge holding Luna. Bushroot skittered out of the way instinctively, while Luna shrieked and tumbled free of the plant’s grasp. Launchpad himself went head over tail feathers and skidded several feet, his injured arm scraping across the pavement in a way that would have been even more excruciating had he not still had narcotics and adrenaline in his system. Unfortunately the heating element in the cart was still on, and when it toppled over into the hedge, it caught fire, burning the bush with it.
Although Liquidator normally would have taken care of such a problem, the water dog still had his hands full with Darkwing Duck. The super-hero was pinned beneath the flowing bulk of Liquidator’s body struggling for breath as Liquidator in turn did his best to submerge him. Darkwing sputtered and struggled, kicking and thrashing, but managed to get both his face and his gas gun up and out of the cascade for a moment. Gasping for air, he pulled the trigger.
Immediately Liquidator was struck with an annoying stinging sensation and he drew back, staring down at his midsection in disbelief. Small pellets of something incredibly irritating were suspended in his water, and while it was not enough to harm him, it did break his concentration. He spun and sprayed out to try and dislodge it while Darkwing inched back and glowered at the watery villain.
“Suck silica, slimeball.”
Furious, Liquidator sneered back at him. “It’ll take more than Dri-Rite to dry up the wet and wild power of the Liquidator!”
“You’re right,” Detective Araucana said from behind him, holding out a nozzle attached to what looked like a fire extinguisher. “So how about you freeze?”
Liquidator started to voice a retort that fire extinguishers were one hundred percent ineffective on him, but he never got it out before the nozzle covered him in a powerful spray of freezing gas. The water dog was barely able to flow an inch before his body started to crystallize, and Darkwing stood up brushing his hands together with smug satisfaction as Araucana hosed Liquidator down with the icy material.
“Yep yep yep, studies have shown that liquid nitrogen will put drips like you on ice every time.”
“I think this is the first time I’ve heard of a super-villain actually freezing when we tell them to,” Araucana remarked with a chuckle. “Thanks for suggesting the nitrogen tank. We couldn’t have pulled this off without it.” When she was done, she symbolically slapped a pair of cuffs on the now frozen villain while Darkwing beamed with pride.
Bushroot saw Quackerjack captured and then Liquidator iced, and panicked as more police came into the area. Several drew their guns and advanced on him and Megavolt while others helped Luna—and the money—to safety. Although he wanted to help Liquidator and Quackerjack, he realized the odds were stacked too high against his favor and decided to cut his losses and run before he shared their fate. “This caper has definitely outgrown its potential,” he grumbled, and sprouted the grass in front of him to grow up fast and tall like bamboo. Not wasting any time, he bolted as the wall bought him time to get away. When he reached the next block he saw a duck parking his Tortuga Prius and seized his opportunity to get away. “That’ll do for a nice green escape!” He raced toward the vehicle, and as he expected, the car’s owner took one look at the plant-mutant coming toward him and leapt out of the vehicle in fear for his life. The keys were still in the ignition as Bushroot jumped in, and he sped off to safety while the police that had been in pursuit of him called for backup.
The plant-duck was not the only villain that had no intention of being thrown in jail. Megavolt leapt off of the transformer as he saw armed cops coming for him while Quackerjack and Liquidator were arrested and Bushroot escaped. “Oh no. No, no, no!”
Megavolt began to rant, sparking all over. “After all I’ve had to put up with, the dumb games, the stupid jokes, the short-outs, my light bulbs being molested, and wearing those god-awful hideous costumes, I am not going to jail now!” He roared and released his frustration in a spectacular arc of energy that sent the police after him scattering backwards.
“Oh, good. I’m working again.” He glared at the cops and shot another burst of high voltage at them, and then ran across the street. The frightened spectators in the crowd gave him a wide berth as he hopped in the back of an idling taxi. “I need to get away now!” he informed the driver with a wild look in his eyes.
The jaded canine cab operator snorted. “Yeah, you got cash to pay for that?”
“No,” the impatient Megavolt seethed. “So how about I charge it instead?” He then discharged a blast of voltage through the vacant front passenger seat that was strong enough to make it smoke from the driver’s side. It changed the cabbie’s tune in a hurry.
“Heh, sure, no problem!” He hit the gas and Megavolt sped away to freedom, leaving the sound of sirens and all of the chaos behind.
Back at the scene, Darkwing had just finished dealing with Liquidator when realized that Bushroot and Megavolt had already gotten away. He was going to pursue when he noticed Gosalyn holding up a limping Launchpad, guiding him toward an ambulance that already had Brant Strongbill and Luna Darkfeather inside it. “Launchpad! Gosalyn!” Darkwing ran over to them. “What are you…?” He fell silent when he saw the tattered state of Launchpad’s bandages and the grimace on his face. “LP,” he sighed, “I told you that you’d get hurt if you came along.”
“You needed me, DW. That’s what sidekicks are for.”
“And daughters,” Gosalyn cut in preemptively.
“Yeah.” Darkwing shook his head, proud and touched by their actions despite himself. “But that doesn’t change the fact that you could’ve been… and hey! Why aren’t you in school, anyway?”
Gosalyn answered his question with a confident grin. “I was getting home-schooled on criminal justice.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, young lady, this isn’t home.”
“It was a field trip.”
That had Darkwing forcing back a snort of laughter, and he was too thankful that they were all right and that the situation was over to be angry. “Just get him to a doctor,” he said, and turned his gaze to Launchpad. “And this time try actually doing what they say.”
Launchpad nodded and staggered toward the ambulance. “Heh, no problemo.”
“Famous last words,” Darkwing muttered. He followed them to the ambulance and eyed Brant Strongbill, who was on a stretcher flanked by two paramedics. The actor was filthy, scuffed up, and looked miserable, but he did not seem to have any life-threatening injuries. “You okay? Quackerjack didn’t do anything too bad to you?”
Strongbill groaned. “I wouldn’t say that. He’s nuts.” He emphasized the word with a wild and horrified look in his eyes. “But I’m okay. After all… I’m Whiffle Boy!” He grinned weakly, and made a tough-guy fist gesture as he closed his eyes and laid his head back on the pillow. “And I’ll be back.”
One of the paramedics raised an eyebrow. “I thought that was the Exterminator.”
Strongbill did not answer, however, for he had already fallen asleep from exhaustion.
“Thank you, Darkwing Duck,” Luna called over from where she was lying down on another stretcher. When he looked over, he noticed that she, too, looked exhausted and her voice sounded even more hoarse. She beckoned for him to come over and he did, smiling down at her with an air of superiority.
“Not bad for a hero-type guy, huh?”
“You found that insulting.” Her blue eyes held a look of amusement that, to him, undermined the sincerity of her grateful smile.
“A little,” he admitted.
“Then I’m sorry,” she said, finishing on a sibilant note. She batted her eyelashes at him in a way that likely would have had Morgana frying his tail feathers if she saw it, not to mention probably irk the model’s unconscious boyfriend as well, even if it was just based in gratitude. “You’re a real hero.”
Her praise was enough to puff Darkwing’s ego back up, though. “Well, it was nothing. Saving the day, rescuing your boyfriend, defeating the dangerous denizens of the criminal underbelly of the city, it’s all in a day’s work for Darkwing Duck.” He overheard a mock gagging noise from Gosalyn’s general direction as he finished, but he did his best to ignore it and enjoy his glory.
“She’s right, you know,” Detective Araucana’s voice cut in. Darkwing whirled around indignantly, but it fizzled when he saw the hen smiling and realized that it was Luna she was referring to rather than his wise-beaked daughter. “You’re a real asset to St. Canard, Darkwing. I wish more people of this city would give you credit. Thanks again for all your help.”
“Anytime! And if you’d like to pass that message on to certain of your colleagues, I wouldn’t complain.” He glanced over at Officer Krop, who was still moving awkwardly from the shock Megavolt had given him as he spoke with Brooke Flood.
The canine woman had not noticed, for she was far more preoccupied with the matter of her son. The two officers that had grabbed Eddie after he fired at Darkwing were bringing him to her now that she had managed to convince Officer Krop to release him into her custody. It was a serious matter to shoot at someone with a deadly weapon, but Eddie was a minor and given the circumstances they agreed to let him go until a hearing was held on it. Of course, they had confiscated his Whiffle Boy gun.
“Eddie! Thank goodness!” She pulled him close in a teary hug. “What were you thinking? Why did you do that? We were worried sick about you!” Her exclamations were both upset and emotional, and they tumbled out in a rush.
“I’m fine, Mom!” he protested.
“Where did you get that gun?”
“Dad gave it to me.” He stared at her. “Did you know he was still alive?”
“I… I—”
“We were both shocked to find out he was Liquidator,” Rill cut in, giving his brother an uneasy look. Although he was still angry at their mother for keeping her doubts from them, he was far more upset about the truth about his father and who and what he was, especially after what he had just witnessed firsthand.
Eddie nodded wildly to his older brother. “That’s crazy, isn’t it? I mean, not only is Dad not dead, but he’s a super-villain. Is that awesome or what?”
“‘Awesome’ is hardly the word I’d use for it,” Brooke said sharply, casting a glare at the ice sculpture that was her ex-husband. “He could’ve gotten you killed. You and your brother both at that convention. I was worried you were dead. And now…” She hugged Eddie again, eliciting an eye-roll in the boy at her mothering. “Well, I’m just glad you’re away from him.”
A frown crossed Eddie’s features as he watched two policemen lift the iced Liquidator to take him to the armored vehicle that they had just put Quackerjack in a moment before. Rill followed his gaze and frowned also, but for different reasons. He stared into his father’s frozen eyes and studied the once-familiar face as he tried to make sense of the jumble of emotion that surged inside him. Do you think that’ll give you the closure you need, kid? I hate to have to be the one to tell you it, but things like that don’t ever resolve that easily. Darkwing’s words from two nights before echoed in his mind.
“Come on. Let’s get out of this place.” Brooke was snappish and authoritative, but that time Eddie did not argue, although he cast a disappointed look over his shoulder in Liquidator’s direction. Rill stared for a moment longer with a harsh and betrayed look in his eyes, but unlike his younger brother, once he turned, he never looked back.
Despite being frozen Liquidator still heard and saw everything, and how he felt at that moment was not something he would ever forget. The police secured him inside the armored car beside Quackerjack, who was just as miserable as his frozen companion.
“Someday I will destroy Whiffle Boy,” he grumbled, slumping grouchily in his handcuffs. “This game is not over.”
Mr. Banana Brain’s thoughts, on the other hand, were more down to earth. “This sucks, Chuck.”
Once again the former Fearsome Five, minus one, managed to fill up St. Canard General’s emergency room. It was not as bad as it had been after Whiffle-Con, but busy enough that doctors and nurses were scrambling and the overtime for some of them was racking up. Launchpad was lucky that he did not have to wait too long this time, which was good, since Gosalyn was not nearly as patient a companion as Honker. She had gone off to get a soda from one of the vending machines when the nurse came in.
It was the same nurse who had attended him last time—Heather Bushroot. “Mr. McQuack,” she greeted him with a halfhearted smile. “I’d say it’s nice to see you again, but not under these circumstances.” She looked at his tattered bandage and raised an eyebrow as she lifted his arm to examine it more closely.
“Yeah, I’m getting tired of this place too. The waiting rooms are really boring.”
“Can’t argue that,” she said, unwrapping the tender wound. She paused as got a closer look at the dressing. “Is that gravel in your gauze?”
“Heh, I guess so.” Launchpad gave her a sheepish smile. “I hit the pavement pretty hard when I crashed.”
Remembering that he was a pilot, her eyes widened with concern behind her glasses. “Were you flying?”
“Nah. Not unless you count going airborne for a few seconds on impact. I crashed a hot dog cart into a renegade hedge at the Swanlord while helping DW get Brant Strongbill back from the Fearsome Five… or Four… well, you know.”
“A hedge.” Heather frowned. “My brother?”
Launchpad nodded, a contrite look on his face. “Yeah. Sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.” She cleaned the wound gently with some gauze. “I’m just glad nothing worse happened. I hear they admitted Mr. Strongbill a little while ago.”
“I rode with him on the ambulance. He’s a little messed up, but more in the head than physical, I think.” He sighed. “Poor guy. Sometimes those big name actors don’t get all the luck, I guess.”
“You and Darkwing Duck will practically be celebrities yourselves for saving him, for a little while at least.”
“Which just proves that most celebrities really are idiots,” a gruff male voice interrupted them. While Heather sighed, Launchpad frowned at the doctor who came in, a gray wolf with piercing blue eyes that leaned on a cane.
“Dr. Mowse, what brings you to the emergency room?” Heather asked as she stepped aside and discarded the dirty bandages.
The wolf physician shrugged. “Curiosity. I heard that we had another round of Fearsome Five frivolity and madness in town and that some of the more famous casualties wound up here. After I talked to Brant Strongbill and got his autograph, and let him know that he should’ve been embarrassed to be in Exterminator III, I came here to see if Darkwing Duck’s sidekick was as stupid as I’ve heard or just plain crazy.”
Even Launchpad was not thick or laid back enough to let rudeness of that magnitude pass, and he frowned indignantly at the doctor. “Hey! I don’t think it’s stupid or crazy to want to stop super-villains.”
Dr. Mowse peered at him, and then at his arm, ignoring his protest. “They did this to you last time? A few days ago?” He picked up Launchpad’s chart without waiting for an answer. “Wow. They have you on the good stuff. No wonder you’re not feeling it.” He chortled and then eyed him with an evaluating stare. “So why do you do this? For the fame? The glory? The chicks?” He sneered at Heather, who frowned back at him.
“I’m doing it ‘cause it’s the right thing to do and DW can’t do it all alone.”
“Ah.” Dr. Mowse set the chart down. “Crazy, then. See, if you’d said you were in it for the fame, glory, or the chicks, I’d have just thought you were stupid because there are better ways to get those things than risking your life chasing down psychopaths with mutant powers. The fact that you seem to think chasing psychopaths with mutant powers in an effort to save everyone else from them is a good idea is just plain nuts.” Launchpad stared back at him slack-jawed while Dr. Mowse turned to Heather. “Crazy sidekick here should be fine. Dress the wound with the usual stuff and I’ll renew his painkillers.”
He pointed his cane in Launchpad’s direction before leaving the room. “And next time you wind up here, try and hurt one of those mutant super-villains bad enough that they come with you, okay? I’d really like to see what makes them tick.” He then turned and limped out of the room, leaving a shocked Launchpad watching him go.
“Wow, and I thought DW had a big mouth sometimes.”
“I am so sorry about that,” Heather apologized. “Don’t take it personally. He’s like that with everyone. He’s an excellent doctor, but his bedside manner… well, it leaves something to be desired.”
Launchpad nodded. “It’s okay.”
“For what it’s worth, I’m glad that there are ducks like you willing to take those ‘crazy’ risks.” Heather finished dressing Launchpad’s wound and met his eyes with a kind look. “Even if it is a shame that you wind up in here for it.”
The compliment brought a smile to Launchpad’s bill. “Aw, it’s no big deal,” he replied while she peeled off her gloves and picked up his chart.
“I’ll have your discharge papers in a few minutes.” She headed for the door and tripped over Gosalyn, who had not seen her and barreled into her with a soda can in each hand.
“Ooops! Sorry!” Gosalyn regained her balance and handed one of the cans to Launchpad. “So you’re almost done here?”
“Yep. Just gotta get my papers and go.”
“Keen gear. This place is bo-ring.”
“You should’ve been here for Dr. Mowse.” Launchpad then filled her in on what she had missed until Heather returned with his paperwork. He signed where he was told, and when he was finished she pulled off a copy and handed it to him along with two other slips of paper.
“Take care, Mr. McQuack. Hopefully I won’t be seeing you again in here.”
“Heh, yeah.” As Launchpad nodded back he had the thought that she was kind of nice, which made it almost a shame. He and Gosalyn left the emergency room and headed for the parking lot, and he looked over the papers he had been given. One was discharge and follow-up instructions and one was a prescription. The third was just a plain piece of notepad stationery with feminine handwriting on that said, “Follow up?” followed with a smiley face and a telephone number.
It brought a smile to the pilot’s face and he glanced over his shoulder, although Heather was already off in another patient’s room. Now that was a follow-up he would not mind making at all.
It took the police the better part of the day to clean up the mess that Quackerjack, Liquidator, Megavolt, and Bushroot had left in their wake around the Hotel Swanlord.
The news report showed that, with Tara Tadboil once again reporting dutifully from the scene. She explained how Brant Strongbill had been rescued, and that the Whiffle Boy hero was “safe, and only a little worse for the wear” while two of his captors were safely behind bars in the super-villain prison. She then related the tale of how Darkwing Duck escaped his decoy binds with the help of “an extraordinarily brave little girl” and then how his “sidekick and a hot dog cart” had also joined the fray to save the day. Tara finished by saying that even though there was some “spectator interference” against Darkwing—her euphemism for Eddie Flood’s pot shot at him—he and the authorities managed to turn the dire situation around, and apprehend Quackerjack and Liquidator while sending Bushroot and Megavolt packing.
Giving the television a look of disgust, Negaduck lifted the remote and switched it off. “Even with Dopewing half out of it, those losers manage to get defeated. And for what? So Quackerjack can whack his whiffle?” He rolled his eyes. “And they wondered why I ditched them. What a bunch of knobs.”
The End