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antiquarianandunusual · 1 year

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When Worlds Collide (A DuckTales 2017/Darkwing Duck/DuckTales 1987 Fic) Chapter 3: Little Girl Blue

Previous Chapter: https://at.tumblr.com/gyrodegearloose/when-worlds-collide-a-ducktales-2017darkwing/oiwibf3hjad7

Next Chapter: https://at.tumblr.com/gyrodegearloose/when-worlds-collide-a-ducktales-2017darkwing/fh5p1feyljzc

First Chapter: https://at.tumblr.com/gyrodegearloose/when-worlds-collide-a-ducktales-2017darkwing/5vfv06i75rmf

Also available to read on AO3!: https://archiveofourown.org/works/39020886/chapters/97770648#workskin

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Far beneath the city of St. Canard- the St. Canard with just a few more stars in the sky- rested the old sewer system. The walls were dilapidated brick, and the muddled waters were littered with garbage that had been flushed or tracked through the street's grates over time. It hadn't been renovated in years- decades, even- so that had been on the docket for Mayor Owlson's projects and had been for months, but she was still busy putting out fires from when that supervillain horde wreaked havoc on the city. Between the vines, the flooding, the power outages, and the miscellaneous property damage from- get this- a giant robot, she had a lot more on her plate to worry about than fixing the slightly outdated sewers.

This was fortunate for former actor Jim Starling, who had been hunkering underground for an alarming amount of time, even longer than he had just been in St. Canard. He had originally been hiding out under Scrooge McDuck's movie studio back in Duckburg because even villains were allowed to be nervous about traversing into dank and dark tunnels, but "Darkwing Duck's" blockbuster debut in the next city over caught his attention. He decided maybe a change of scenery was in order while he bided his time, waiting for the opportune moment to strike.

More unfortunately, there wasn't really much of a market for how-to books on how to go from a washed-up actor to a world-class supervillain. So, he had mostly been hanging out in his underground lair, going topside on the odd occasion for a breath of fresh air. Even vengeful sewer dwellers needed to practice self-care.

Although he had yet to make his official debut as St. Canard's greatest criminal mastermind, Jim had still abandoned his civilian identity; he would visit the surface world only in full, altered Darkwing costume, which he was still calling that only because in all his months of failed scheming, he still had yet to find a name that struck his fancy. Besides, if anyone saw him, they either assumed it was a bad Darkwing cosplay or struggled to know what he was at all. Both kinds of comments burned him up inside, but he did what he could to set his ego aside for the time being.

Because it was only a matter of time. They would see.

On this particular night, however, no one was seeing much of anything. Dawn was just around the corner and most of the city was still fast asleep in their high-rise apartments when Jim took his first small talk in nearly a week. He would never admit it aloud, but he had fallen into a bit of a slump; with each passing day, revenge and ultimate citywide conquest was looking farther and farther away as he stared blankly at the wall, attempting to plot but coming up empty. Having done so little with what should have been a fresh new start left him feeling dejected and unmotivated to even try anything worthwhile. He was trapped in a self-fulfilling cycle, and he'd hoped stretching out and catching some crisp, morning air would help bring him back to reality.

And it almost did, but the reality check that woke him up most was the bakery door being kicked open, dinging him right in the beak.

It was hard enough contact that Jim went flying into the street, getting wrapped up in his cape and taking a few humiliating seconds to recover. Now, he knew that the bakery on this corner was owned by a nice elderly couple because he had passed them on the street before, so he had confidence that he could take them in a fight if it came to it. Feeling brave, he opened his beak. "Alright, pal, I don't know what your deal is-"

Before he could finish, a fist clamped around his break and held it shut in a steel grip. Now that Jim was face-to-face with the culprit, it was decidedly not the sweet old man who had complimented his costume all those times. He still recognized the face; he even recognized their fashion sense since he saw all of it every day in the mirror he had stolen from someone's trash. The main difference between this man and Jim's reflection was the ever-present malice in the eyes, which he had been working diligently to achieve for nigh a year. This was someone who Jim knew had killed before and would again just for the fun of it, and who had likely just saved his life by shutting him up before he said something really stupid.

When they spoke, their voice was a low rumble, like a growl caught in the throat of a jungle cat circling its pre, or a horde of motorcycle engines revving in the battle cry of only the most notorious of gangs. "What do you think you're doing?!" they demanded. "You think this is funny?!" They began glancing him over and Jim shook his head vigorously.

The other duck thew him to the ground and hovered over him, standing on his chest with one foot to keep him down. Not that they needed to; Jim had completely frozen up. "Another universe, another Dumbwing Duck to take out of the picture." As much hatred as there was in their eyes, he could see a malevolent smile peeking at the corners of their mouth. He hadn't even gotten to the fun parts of villainy and already someone wanted his head on a platter. He supposed he should have been flattered, yet the fear of his career- his life- ending before it even started finally paved the way for a panicked shriek to slip out.

"Wait, wait! I-I'm not Dumb- I mean, Darkwing Duck!"

"Oh, yeah, like I'm gonna fall for that one. Nice try."

"No, really! I used to be in the 90s, but not anymore! I hate Darkwing Duck!"

"Well, if you're not Darkwing Duck," they snarled incredulously, breath hot against Jim's face as they leaned in uncomfortably close, "then who is?"

"Some actor kid, I don't know his name! Give me just a..." He maneuvered as best he could to pull his phone out; luckily, he had many a Darkwing Duck article already saved, and lifted the screen between him and his new friend. They eyed the screen for a cautious moment before they spoke.

"That's definitely not you."

"No, it's not!"

"Goody two-shoes wouldn't throw someone else under the bus, either."

"He sure wouldn't!"

They pulled back, still standing on Jim's chest for posterity. "So, you're telling me this isn't some cheap ploy to throw me off? This is dead serious?"

"Yes!"

"And there's you and an actual Darkwing Duck around here?"

"Yes, yes!"

There was a long pause. They had eased back enough that Jim most likely could wriggle out from under their foot, but with their eye still so closely on him, he didn't want to take any unnecessary risks. He had to keep in mind that he was just a piece of meat to them and if he stepped out of line, that would become much more literal.

After a moment of thought, some sort of morbid realization his them. The dreadful smile returned, in full force this time, as though they simply couldn't contain whatever twisted concoctions were brewing beneath the surface, whatever horrific ideas they were bookmarking for later. They reached down to help Jim up and rumbled, "Oh, I think I'm gonna like you."

Jim wasn't entirely sure the feeling was mutual.

_______________________________________________________

"Well, hey there, little lady!" Herb crowed, peering out from his doorway. "Did your old man finally make it home this mornin'?"

"Why, yes, Mr. Muddlefoot! Safe and sound!" Gosalyn beamed up at him, uncharacteristically chipper, but Herb didn't seem to catch onto it.

If there was one thing that made up for what she lacked in book smarts, it was her know-how in the art of manipulation. That was why she and Honker made such a great team: he knew the background, the psychology of it, and she could apply it like no one else. Her formative years had been spent observing and testing what made her stories more convincing, or at least, what made people more likely to believe her. She insisted it was purely scientific, a piece of Grandpa Waddlemeyer she always carried with her. Drake half-joked it was a red flag in the making.

What worked, she had learned, typically changed from person to person. Mrs. Cavanaugh had been the toughest nut to crack and admittedly, Gosalyn had never fully figured out how to get her wrapped around her finger, but playing dumb usually got her to give in. Drake could never get enough of the "darling daughter" act and Launchpad, in all his sweet, misguided trust, never took much convincing at all. And finally, as soon as she became the ideal little girl, chipper and polite and the kind of person Binkie had always urged her to be, the Muddlefoots were putty in her hands.

"That's good! That's good. Now, what brings you back over here?"

"Well, gee, Mr. Muddlefoot, it's just such a nice day and I was wondering if Honker wanted to come over and play?"

"I'm sure he would, Gos, just one sec!" Herb leaned slightly back and shouted, "HONKER! GOSALYN'S HERE!" He turned back to Gosalyn. "He'll be so happy to know your folks are back home safe. They tell you where they were?"

What Herb failed to realize was that the mail from the day before was still peeking out of the corners of the Mallards' mailbox. The newspaper was still out on the front step, and the house lights were still off; no one was home, and no one had been in a while. Gosalyn did not bring attention to this.

"They just got stuck in some bad traffic and stayed with a friend downtown." She grimaced. Not her best lie; it left too much unexplained, like why her worrywart father didn't bother to call, but volunteering too many details would cause the entire thing to collapse. Thankfully, Herb didn't tune too much into it. He just grinned and snapped his fingers.

"See, I told Binkie she was worrying over nothin'. But you know her." Gosalyn did not, in fact, "know her", because if she was as protective as Herb made her out to be, she would have realized much sooner that the chess club Honker was supposedly part of did not exist, the phone number that called her to let her know about meetings actually belonged to a payphone in downtown St. Canard, and the teacher she talked to over said payphone was actually Launchpad's best attempt at a British accent.

Behind Herb, Honker descended the stairs, backpack still on from the school day. The two of them had barely been back on Avian Way for ten minutes before she had run over to their house, so he was visibly and understandably perplexed. She shot him a pleading look of her own, breaking the illusion for only a second.

Herb whirled around. "Well, there ya-"

Before he could finish, Gosalyn had shoved her way past him, grabbed Honker by the arm, and was halfway out the door with a very confused Muddlefoot in tow. Honker's backpack had fallen to the floor, forgotten as she threw him outside and called back, "Thank you, Mr. Muddlefoot!", letting the door slam behind them.

"Gosalyn," began a startled Honker, "what's-"

"Ssh! Wait until we're at my house!"

Getting there didn't take long, both because the Mallard house was right next door and because Gosalyn had broken out into a sprint, Honker lagging behind. The door to the house was still unlocked; she had gone directly over to the Muddlefoots' and locking the door behind her had not exactly been a priority.

Honker had been at Gosalyn's house when it was otherwise empty before. Drake didn't particularly like leaving them in charge of the household, but sometimes Darkwing was called into action and there was no time to hesitate, so he had trusted Honker once or twice to keep Gosalyn from burning the place down. But this time, there was something eerie about the dark house; the shadows cast on the walls by unoccupied furniture were starker, the silence suddenly more deafening. It had only been empty for a day, but it already felt frozen in time.

Gosalyn didn't explain, nor did she need to. Her worried expression said everything. "Dad wouldn't just disappear like this unless something was really wrong."

The air was tense with silence for a long moment before Honker finally chimed in. "Do... Do you know where they were last?"

"Do you think I'd just be standing here if I did?" She sighed and began pacing. "All I know is that Dad and Launchpad are missing, and it can't be because of any of the usual bad guys."

"Why not?"

"Because none of them have gone shouting it from the rooftops, yet."

"Oh."

"What we need right now is a strategy. I was thinking we could go to Morgana's first and get her help, that's the obvious-"

"What? No, Gosalyn, we need to call the police!"

"The police? Honker, since when have the police ever helped my dad?"

She waited for a response. There wasn't one.

"Exactly. We can't call anyone outside of Darkwing's inner circle. Not even your parents."

"Gosalyn, you can't just live here alone!"

"Oh, sure I can. Dad and Launchpad went grocery shopping yesterday, Dad caught up on the bills last week, and if I just keep up appearances at school, everyone'll be none the wiser. I've got two weeks, at least."

Honker hesitated for a moment; there was something on his mind, that much was clear, but it took him a few beats to gather the courage to say it. "What if they're not back by then?"

"They will be." Gosalyn's expression had quickly soured, turning warning, which shut him up quickly. He knew better than to question her when her inherent stubbornness reared its ugly head; if he did, he would be out his only friend and she would go and put whatever dangerous she had in mind into motion, anyway. It was better, he decided, to keep an eye on her and ensure he had somewhere to turn if his intuition proved unfortunately right.

"O-Okay," he conceded. "What's the plan?"

Gosalyn finally turned the lights on and led him into the family room. "Okay, it's still a work in progress, but we go to Morgana's first. See if she can use her magic to sense his life force or look into the future to see where Dad ends up or something. If she doesn't know where he is or he's not sage, we get the Justice Ducks- even Gizmoduck."

"And then?"

"... We look for him. Look, I told you it was a work in progress, okay?" She sighed and looked out the window; the day was still newer, and the sun wouldn't go down for a few more hours. "If we leave now, we should make it to Morgana's by four."

"You mean we're going now?!"

"Duh! Launchpad and Dad're in trouble- no time to waste!"

As Gosalyn once again grabbed Honker's arm and led him out the door, the Mallard household once again fell into silence.

_______________________________________________________

"Launchpad, I don't think I can do this again tomorrow." Darkwing covered his face dramatically and draped himself over the back of the chair Launchpad, ever nonchalant, was lounging in. He had been pacing back and forth for the last thirty minutes as the sun finally hung low in the sky. "I can't be cooped up like this, it isn't natural."

"Relax, D.W.," chided his sidekick. "Darkwing said we're heading out at sundown. Y'know, a car ride might do you some good."

Darkwing slumped down onto the nearby couch and rested his head in his hand. "I don't like this idea, L.P."

"It's either this or lose the only lead we have. Your choice."

He looked up at Launchpad for a long, contemplative second as his best friend shrugged, Darkwing eventually sighing and dismissively turning the other way. "I hate it when you're right." Launchpad chuckled. "Just... something doesn't feel right about this."

"Look at it this way: What happened the last time you took a chance on someone you just met?"

Darkwing huffed and rolled his eyes, but a smile played at the corners of his mouth. "I met you and Gosalyn."

"You met me and Gosalyn," repeated Launchpad. "Besides, what's the worst that could happen? We find out Other Darkwing isn't trustworthy, we get another lead, and we get back to our own universe. No harm done, same end result, even if he tries to publicize your identity."

"Launchpad, you're forgetting who my archenemy is."

"Oh. Right. Well, he has to unmask too, right? You'll have his identity, too. Why would he use yours against you when you could do the same to him in his own territory?"

Darkwing mulled this over for a second before leaning on the couch's arm in defeat. "You're right. Again. I guess I don't have much of a choice, anyway."

"No, you don't." He jumped; he hadn't even noticed his counterpart ascending the stairs, and what had him more started was the split second he didn't recognize the capeless crimefighter. Where a triumphant hero should have been stood a plain, thirty-something duck; take away the overcoat and fedora, and throw in a purple button-down, and you wouldn't be able to pick him out in a crowd. "Here, I found this in my closet. I can't even remember where I got it from. I think I bought it for a show years ago? It's kind of an eyesore, but it'll do the job."

He handed Darkwing a familiar salmon button-down and green sweater vest. Darkwing shot a snickering Launchpad a dirty look; the sidekick shrugged as if to say, "It's a small multiverse, after all."

"Now, come on," urged who they'd hoped would pass as an unsuspecting civilian, "Mr. McDuck isn't going to wait all night for us."

_______________________________________________________

Far back beneath the city, in Jim's sewer hideout, the other duck- who had invited himself more than he had been welcomed- was exploring the perimeter while Jim watched from a cautious distance. He was calculating, Jim had quickly noticed; as he skulked about, much less squeamish about the circumstances than the actor had originally been, it was clear that a scheme was in the making. Jim decided it was best to steer clear while he did his work and definitely not because he was terrified of him beyond belief.

Instead, he sat back and of all the things he had to process from the night, he found the name the other duck had thrown at him taking precedence in his mind. There was something about it that drew him in, something in those three syllables that felt more right, more menacing, than all the other monikers he had tested out. He wanted to be original, but he couldn't help but shelve it for later when his new partner in crime wasn't paying attention.

Negaduck.

Jim could get used to that.

#fanfiction #fan works #darkwing duck #ducktales 2017 #ducktales #drake mallard #launchpad mcquack #gosalyn waddemeyer #gosalyn mallard #negaduck #jim starling #herb muddlefoot #binkie muddlefoot #honker muddlefoot

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