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masked-mallards · 5 years

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Masked Mallards, The Multiverse, and Everything else

Chapter 1. Attack on the Warehouse

Night Time St. Canard

Location: unknown

A rat crawled its way into the depts of the warehouse, it had spent its day in search of food, which would have been easy given the size of the city. However, this was not the case. St. Canard had always been a clean city, making it hard for any scavenger to find food. Even more so when its citizens try to kill you any way they can because you are not clean. The rat stopped in its tracks and stood on its two back legs and took a whiff of the air. Its ears perked up with delight and hope, “Food” the rat thought to itself.

Following its nose, it scurried its way through cracks in the walls and found itself in a dark dank hall. A little further down, a figure stood in the shadows. The only light was that the figure’s flashlight and its red eyes. The hidden figure pointed his flashlight to reveal the rat in the hallway, which was paralyzed with fear. The rat had use what remaining energy it had to get here, and had none left to flee. However, to the rat’s surprise, the figure in the dark kneeled. He dropped the flashlight so the light revealed his outstretched feathered hand. In it, he held some sort of bread.

“Hungry?” he asked a sooth voice and beckoned the rat to come near. “What is it with ducks and bread?” the rat thought. It didn’t care for the answer it wasn’t the time to be picky. The rat approached the duck in shadows and began to eat right out of his hand. For the first time in weeks, the rat was having a decent meal. “Do you like it?” the duck asked. The rat was no longer paying attention. “It is my own special recipe. Would you like to know what it is called?” He asked as he began to close in.

The rat slowly looked up to duck. Only to be met by his red eyes and a fanged bill.” Bait!” he snarled with a grin. Before the rat could react, it was grabbed by the duck’s other hand was held tightly. The duck stood up with the rat in hand and knocked the flashlight so it revealed the shadow of the duck and its prisoner. The rats horrified squeals were cut short by a mess of blood, fur, teeth, and bill. ‘Rats" Negaduck said to himself as he licked his chops. “Whether here or at home, they fall for the same trick every time.”

Negaduck picked up the flashlight while listening to a repulsed gag behind him. “What is the matter Sparky” He taunted. “Did I eat your cousin?“ Megavolt’s face went red with rage, he hated it when he called him that. However, he said nothing, he knew better than to challenge Negaduck. Negaduck, somewhat disappointed, handed the flashlight to Megavolt, he was hoping for a fight. Then proceeded to go back up the hallway for which he came. Megavolt found his voice “The boys asked me to go get take out from Hippo Burger, I would ask if you wanted anything but…” He pointed to the blood still on Negaduck’s beak. Negaduck shrugged it off and disappeared down the hallway.

Megavolt hastened to the exit and on to his task. When Negaduck gets into a blood craze like that, it is usually best to clear out. Part of him wished he at least warned the others about Negaduck, but he had no intention to talk to the homicidal duck for the rest of the night. Megavolt pushed open the heavy door of the warehouse to reveal a dark and clear night. He began to make his way to town, more in the pursuit of putting some distance between himself and Negaduck. "Sorry fellas.” He said to himself. “Something wicked this way comes”. And disappeared into the night.

St. Canard

Abandon Quackerwerks build

A storm began to form above the abandoned Quackerwerks building. Lighting began to crack and crackle. In the blink of an eye a duck sporting a loose trench coat, hood, and a familiar mask appeared. “We’re here,“ it said, though no one was around. ”We need to eliminate the target before the resident Purple blunder catches wind.” He continued but in a different voice. The duck gave a look annoyance at itself then pulled out a grappling hook, shot it into the night, and disappeared as the rain began to fall.

Back at the warehouse

Negaduck entered the room, picking his teeth clean with a small bone. Bushroot looked up from his paper and eyed Negaduck. “He is in another mood” the thought. Bushroot never whether it was a good thing or a bad thing. Ever since Negaduck got cut off from the Negaverse, he has been on edge and homicidal, well more than usual. On nights likes this when he is in a blood craze, it either means he was going to lead them on a more profitable dangerous heist, or they would have to find a new hideout…again.

Negaduck sat at the table adjected to Bushroot. He put his hand inside the top of his coat, as if he were checking if something was there. Rain began to pour and thunder cracked on the roof above them. Quackerjack and Liquidator entered from an office-like room. The Liquidator’s eyes locked on the carnivorous duck then darted to Bushroot. After receiving a warning look from the house plant, he for once thought to keep quiet. Quackerjack, however, did not read the elephant in the room, and made his way to their leader, putting his arm around his shoulder.

“Sooo……Negs.” Quackerjack began as he gathered air in his lungs. Bushroot and Liquidator cringed and braced for the worse. He held Negaduck in close “I know that look.” He said on the exhale with excitement. “You have been scheming for the last few days, I’ve noticed, and now you’re ready to let us in on it. Granite, our last two major heists did not go according to plan. Mostly because of me, how was I to know the Purple Menace put a tracking device in Mr. Banana Brain? Blab bla bla …….” Quackerjack babbled on and on, pulling Negaduck in a near neck hold. Negaduck was growing more irritable as jester continued. "of course, now that your feathers have grown back- ”.

Quackerjack did get to finish. In a flurry of speed Negaduck pinned Quackerjack against the table with a loud thud. “Don’t you know how to shut up?” Negaduck said in furry. Negaduck duck grabbed one of the terrified clown’s arms and began to bend it the wrong way. Quackerjack’s screams drowned out the snapping and breaking of his bone. Negaduck threw his victim against a storage unit then forced Quackerjack to his feet. “Oh, I’m sorry.” he said with fake innocence.” I meant to break your beak to shut you up, but don’t worry though…. I’ll get it right this time" Negaduck said as he wrapped his hand around Quackerjack’s beak.

At this point Bushroot and Liquidator were on their feet, ready to subdue their unstable leader. Bushroot formed his arms to a constrictive vine and used them to grab Negaduck from behind a pulled him away. Liquidator rushed over Quackerjack and dragged him away from the fight. After that, he slides to Bushroot who was trying to restrain a now angry rabid duck. The wet dog did the only thing he knew would snap Negaduck into some sort of sanity. He blasted Negaduck with cold water to the point the duck was gasping for air. After a few moments of Negaduck catching his breath, he was finally calm and Bushroot released his grip.

Negaduck picked himself up and squeezed the water out of his hat as if nothing happened. The Fearsome 3 gave him a wide berth as they recovered from the event. Negaduck glared at his lackeys who stared back. “what are you looking at?” he growled. His eyes darted to the broken Quackerjack then back to the others. “Get him to a hospital!” he barked. They wasted no time, making their way to the exit. Negaduck grunted, he never had put up this constantly at home. He turned to look at the 3 again and sighed. A feeling he wasn’t quite used to yet forced him to speak. “Listen… guys I’m”- he was cut off the sound of shattering glass and gunfire.

Negaduck flipped over the table and they all took cover from the raining bullet. “Did Elmo give out are business cards again?” a whimpering Quackerjack asked nursing his arm cracking a smile. Negaduck stared at Quackerjack. How could he be his happy go- luney self at a time like this with that injury? The feeling came back, he couldn’t place it. The gunfire stopped. “Are they done?” Quackerjack said peering his head over the cover of the table. “Don’t!” Negaduck shouted but it was too late. A single gunshot rang out. Quackerjack’s body fell back and hit the ground. Bushroot let out a horrified scream, as blood began to spill out of his lifeless body, and was in a state of shock, sure they lived with Negaduck but he never killed his allies. “oh god, oh god, oh god.” Bushroot panicked. The Liquidator turned to Negaduck.” Boss what do we do!?” he shouted.

The gunfire began again. “Negaduck! What Do We Do? He asked again, but Negaduck couldn’t hear him, he couldn’t hear anything. Negaduck stared at the lifeless husk on the ground. He had killed people before, Hell he enjoyed it, but why did he feel responsible for this case. The unknown feeling worsened. "NEGADUCK!” the Liquidator roared. Negaduck’s attention was driven back to reality. “Stop shouting you, idiot.” He snapped, closing Liquidator’s mouth shut with his hand. If there was only one thing, he shared with Darkwing Duck that he didn’t hate, it was cunning. “Help him snap out of it.” Negaduck said pointing to Bushroot who was curled in a ball, with his hands over his head.

” The shooter must be close by, they only started firing up the place again after Bushweed here started shouting” explained Negaduck.” Soo…” he said, then made a motion with his hand a for them to be quiet. Sure, enough after a few minutes, the gunfire stops then silence. “Now what?” Bushroot whispered as he dared. “Simple.” Negaduck said with a toothy grin and pulled out his favorite chainsaw.” We counter”.

A figure jumped from the broken window with a military-grade rifle in their hands. Negaduck could see the figure in the reflection of a piece of glass that lay nearby. It was a duck, at least he thinks it a duck. The figure wore a pair of night-vision goggles and a gas mask. A torn and battered faded purple hood and trench coat lined with red on the inside covered the head and most of its body. The rest covered in dark S.W.A.T armor. “This one came prepared for a fight.” He thought to himself. He grinned; he welcomed the challenge. “I will happily oblige”.

“Did we get him?” the figure asked. “Don’t know, didn’t see him” the figured answer himself but in a different voice. Both sounded familiar to Negaduck but he couldn’t place them. At this point the Negaduck deduced that it was a duck, due to the accent, but why was he talking that way? “We hit something though” the duck pointed the rifle at Quackerjack’s body.” That wasn’t the target you fool” the other voice growled in annoyance. “That was the clown!“ he finished with a facepalm with his free hand. A few seconds the armored duck recomposed itself. “Still if Quackerjack is here, then the target can’t be too far.”

The duck said beginning to look around the rubble. “Then we search the area”. The duck said answering itself again. There was some rustling behind the table. Immediately, the armed schizophrenic duck aimed the rifle at the overturned table “Who’s there” the voices said in unison. Thunder cracked followed by the unmistakable sound of a roaring chainsaw. He turned to see Negaduck towering over him with his daggers like red eyes and fanged grin. “Of course.” The voiced said as it saw an interfering child.” Let’s Get This Over With!”.

Negaduck brought down his chainsaw upon the attacker’s head, forcing him to hold the rifle in a defensively over their head. The pressure from the saw caused its barrel to crack open and its owner to back on to a now slippery wet floor. A watery hand formed around his ankle forcing the assailant to hit the ground hard. The Liquidator released his grip and reformed himself next to his leader. "This is a limited time offer, act NOW” the hound shouted. As if on cue, roots sprouted from the ground and wrapped themselves around the shoulders and neck of its prey. A single yellow bud grew from it and sprayed the duck in the face. A yellow fog formed around the duck. Bushroot appeared by his comrades.

“That should knock him out cold,“ he said gesturing to his handy work sound quite confident in himself. They waited for the toxin to take effect as their captive gasping for air and thrashed helplessly. Finally, silence, as the fog of yellow cleared, revealing a motionless body on the ground. They approached. "Who the hell is this?” Liquidator asked, not caring if wasn’t speaking in his usual slogan like demeanor. Negaduck knelt close to the duck’s head and removed his goggles. He was taken aback.

The captive bared a striking to Darkwing Duck, but it didn’t make sense. The Masked Mallard never used lethal weapons. Was it another clone? “Why don’t we ask him?” Negaduck answered. “Bushroot, get the ropes and be snappy about it.” he barked. Bushroot ran to his task. Negaduck began to take off the prisoner’s gas mask, only to realize now that the prisoner was wearing a gas mask. “FucK’ was all Negaduck got to say before he saw a glint of the blade and his captive’s eyes flung open.

The duck headbutted Negaduck knocking him out of the away. In a quick motion, he produced a knife out from his coat, cut the vines and jumped to his feet. The duck reached in his coat again, and pulled out an opened white bottle and threw it. Liquidator reacted only long to read the label. Alka-Seltzer. Once the bottle made contact the effect immediately took hold. The Hound’s liquid body began to explode and sizzle with the acid, and he cried out agony. “Always want to try that,“ the sadistic duck said to himself quite satisfied. ”Sicko” it replied to itself in contradiction. The new duck knight turned his attention to Negaduck who was already on his feet.

Negaduck got a good look at his attacker’s face. It was, in fact, another doppelganger of Drake Mallard, but an unfamiliar one at that. He remembered back to when he and Magica De Spell, traveled through the multi-verse collecting Darkwings as test subjects for an old scheme, but he doesn’t remember this one. There was another feature that the duck had wasn’t right either. There was always a constant between the clones, whether the clone was a duck or any other form, they always sported a pair of blue eyes.

The duck before him had a blue eye and a red one. He also had long black grey hair tied in a ponytail, wore a black mask, and had a scar on his beak. He was also older than any of the Darkwing clones he had come in contact with. “Figured we’d cross paths eventually Starling.” Mallard started as he made his way to Negaduck. “Didn’t expect it to be so soon.” Drawing his knife up to his throat, and looked him dead in the eye.” Now…Where is he”. He demanded in a growl.

Negaduck, not amused, glared back him. “Sorry.” Negaduck said.“ But I’ve haven’t the slightest idea as to who you’re talking about.” He began to walk in a circle so his clone would have his back to the wall to the outside the wall. “Don’t play coy with us’ the other voice snarled. “Nothing happens in St. Canard without you knowing about it.” he pressed the blade so close to that it cut some of Negaduck’s feathers. A rush of adrenalin ran through Negaduck and filling him with excitement “finally,” He thought. I have been waiting for a challenge all night. “Where is Megavolt?” the Darkwing demanded in a rage.

Negaduck started laughing maniacally. “What is so funny?” asked the deeper voice. Negaduck looked him in the eye. “You Mallards are all the same.” He laughed. “anytime you think you have the situation under control…” His voice suddenly turned in to a smug growl. “It’s not.” Bushroot turned on a giant spotlight on the opposite side of the room, forcing the knife-wielding Darkwing to drop his knife and shield his eyes. Negaduck duck was a distraction and he fell for it.

Negaduck jumped his temporarily blinded target, pinning him to the ground and removing his mask an angry fanged duck. He looked 20 years older than the other clones. “Listen good you cloned freak,” He said with a snarl as he moved his hand to his throat.” I don’t know what gave you the gall to attack us, or what the Dimbulb did to piss you off, but believe me, you’re not going to like how I find out.” With that he took his free hand and struck him across his face, knocking him out for real this time. Negaduck got up, relieving his captive of his knife. Bushroot put the proper restrained the unconscious duck. The liquidator was finally able to stand, his body was still shaking from the foul acid.

Their leader handed his hound a piece of paper with an address on it. Thunder cracked as the rain continued to pour. Negaduck touch the inside of his coat again and sighed in relief. “It is still there,“ he thought. Negaduck looked around. "This hideout has been compromised,” Negaduck began, He turned to his Hound.” Use the rain to your advantage and go Megavolt, take him to this address.” The duck handed the hound a note. “Once you’ve done that, do not under any circumstances leave the area until we meet you there.” He warned. The mallard looked over at Quackerjack’s body, Bushroot had covered it with a tarp. The feeling he had before came back with a vengeance. “And don’t tell Megavolt, about what has happened, especially about Quackerjack. The last thing I need is him involve, at least not yet.” He ordered.

The Liquidator gave his boss a pained look. He was asking him, not that it wasn’t in his nature, to lie to his close friend and comrade, but he understood. Quackerjack had been the Electric Rat’s lover, if he tells him what happened, Megavolt would go into a rage and try to kill the murderer with his bare hands. Then they wouldn’t be able to find out why the trigger-happy duck was there in the first place. Besides, the dog lost one friend tonight he didn’t want to lose another. With a salute to Negaduck, he became a misty cloud and disappeared through the broken window into the night, leaving Bushroot and Negaduck with their captive.

Bushroot heaved the now bound duck over his shoulder and turned Negaduck for instruction. "What now,” He asked. Though he probably had a good idea. Negaduck began to leave and motioned Bushroot to follow.“ Now,” he said. “we are going to have a little chat with our “friend” here.“ He took the body from Bushroot and dragged it behind him. "Preferably somewhere no one can hear him scream.” Negaduck with Bushroot in tow disappeared deep into the warehouse.

St. Canard

Residence of Drake Mallard

Thunder roared outside and the lights flickered. Darkwing fiddled with his radio, a special gift from S.H.U.S.H. “Darn thing” he muttered as he tried to turn in to the police radio. The night had been quite much to his disappointment. He hated having to stay home from his duties. It wasn’t good for his ego. He abandoned the radio and fidgeted. Rain poured on, hitting the suburban home. He went up the stairway to bed, finally admitting defeat. Drake could the loud snores of Launchpad, who had already gone to bed. He passed his partner’s room to the room next to it.

He cracked open the door to reveal a disaster complete with hazards that would put the worst restaurant to shame. A young girl was sound asleep… for once. He closed the door and made his way to his room, and looked out the window one last time. He could hear Morgana’s voice in his head that the rain brings ill tidings, but he never believes such nonsense. The thunder cracked again this time cutting the power. Then again, he had been wrong before.

Back at the warehouse

'Wakey, Wakey.“ Negaduck said as if he were talking to a small child. The duck knight began to wake up, he was still in a dazed state and trying to find his bearings. “I said,” Negaduck’s voice turned into a menacing growl. “Wake up!” delivering a hard punch into his stomach knocking the wind out of him, but now he was alert. His body contorted together as a result of Negaduck’s "wake up call”, his body was pulled back by his restraints, making it worse. The Mallard was tied tightly to a chair by his legs and forearms. His hands were in handcuffs and wrapped behind him. He had been relieved of his armor and any weapons he had on him. All he had on was a loose grey t-shirt, black pants he had worn under his gear and his trench coat. They were in a small room, probably in another part of the warehouse. The room’s only light was a dinky overhead lamp. He needed to get away and resume his hunt. he had his trench coat, that was all he needed….and time.

“Did you have a nice nap freak?” Negaduck asked in a belittling tone. He grabbed the older ducks by the hair on his head and forced him to look him in the eye. The clone glared at his captor and promptly spat in his face. Negaduck’s face turned red with rage as he wiped his face off. “What’s the matter, Starling? A cocky voice came the Darkwing clone. “Did we hurt your ego?“ the other voice finished. At the mention of his real name, Negaduck proceed to brutally strike his prisoner hard to the point the chair toppled over. His ears began to ring as he hit the ground and his eyes began to roll to the back of his head.

(“You need to stay focused.”) The 1st voiced thought with a hiss, keeping him from passing out again. (“Sorry.”) The 2nd voice answered back in thought, he reached into coat so Negaduck wouldn’t notice, and procured a small black lock pick. Negaduck stood over his captive and resumed to beating, kicking, scratching, and punching his victim to a pulp. He held on tightly to the pick and endured the abuse until he had an opportunity to use it.

Bushroot could hear it all from the other side of the door. Negaduck had ordered him to stand guard in case something went wrong or worse he showed up. The sounds coming from in there was enough to make him sick. “I was a teacher once.” He thought. “I once wanted to make the world a better place. So how did I end up here?” At times like this, Liquidator would know exactly what to say, but he wasn’t here. He was out looking for Megavolt and keeping him away. Unbearable feeling loneliness befell him. "Oh, Bud.” He said aloud. “What should I do?” The noises lasted for several minutes.

Negaduck finally stopped his tantrum, and pulled the battered duck off the ground, still attached to the chair. The clone was covered in bruises, bleeding, and had broken ribs and jaw, but the old-timer has had worse. "How do you know my name? Only a handful of people know that!” Negaduck barked still in a rage. When he didn’t get an answer, he grabbed him by the scuff of his grey shirt pulled him up enough force to lift him off the ground, and smacked the already beaten mallard across the face. "Answer me damn you.” He roared as dropped his victim causing him to bounce in his chains and wentzed in pain.

The blooded duck laughed a little, then turned to his interrogator.” We know you better than you think boy.” The 1st voice replied. “In fact, we know you better than you know yourself.” It continued in an arrogant tone. “How so?’ Negaduck asked as he made his way around to the back, out of his captive’s sight.” We took notice of your little “adventure” threw the multi-verse, as you and that witch collected our kind.” The 2nd voice started. “We followed you on the slim chance that “he” would show up and take the opportunity put his own plan into action.” he continued. “Who?’ Negaduck asked.

The sly old duck had managed to break the lock on the handcuffs and his hands were free. He slid the lock pick back into the coat. The pick disappeared into thin air on contact. In its place, he pulled out a small easy to conceal knife and began to cut the ropes around his arms hidden by his trench coat. He tried to change the subject to buy himself more time. “We will ask you one more time.” The first voice spoke again.” Where is Megavolt.“ They both said in unison. Negaduck grabbed the back of the bird’s head and force him down backward, ripping off some feathers in the process. He was forced to look up at a glaring Negaduck.

"first of all,” the Negaduck started.“ I’m the one who is asking the questions not you. Secondly, why do you want to kill The Megablunder so badly? He can’t carry out an order correctly, let alone remember what day it is.” He was halfway through cutting the ropes.“ It is not what he is,” the 2nd voice answer. “but what he will most likely become.” Negaduck released his grip and walked back to the front of his schizophrenic doppelganger, and put his hand around his throat again. “And who or what might that be?” He said closing his hand tightly. The bruised and beaten mallard chuckled, “You know, we gave you too much credit.” The 1st voiced sneered. The ropes fell to the ground.

Before Negaduck could react, the older warrior pulled out a taser and jabbed it into Negaduck’s unguarded torso. The electricity coursed through his body like a bullet, making him let go of his neck. He put back the taser in his coat, pulled out a large knife and cut the ropes that bound his legs with one cut. The duck knight was free. He turned his attention to Negaduck. He wanted to finish the unstable duck right there and now, but it was pointless. “You learned nothing, from your travels across time and space.’ The 1st voice said disappointed nursing his wounds. Never underestimate the Masked Mallards of the Night. Some of them will kill you. Hell, we will if you interfere again.”

Negaduck was on his feet, ready to attack his escapee. The wounded duck reached into his into, his coat and pulled out a canister of tear gas and threw it Negaduck, gas began to spew out of it with a hiss. Negaduck backed off and used his cloak as a mask to defend himself from the gas. Once the gas dissipated the clone was gone. The door had been forced open and Bushroot had been knocked down. He was missing an arm, which was starting to grow back. He turned to his boss and darted to him.” He had chainsaw….“ He said. He looked like he had seen a monster. He pulled it out his coat as if it was some sort of magic trick.” Bushroot continued. It looked just like yours”.

Chapter 2

https://masked-mallards.tumblr.com/post/190635473064/masked-mallards-the-multiverse-and-everything

#my first fanfic #darkwing duck #hope it pleases

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knowingwhentoleave · 4 years

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Sugarloaf

I got up almost before the sun rose to pick up shit bushweed from a questionable friend of a friend who we’d met a night earlier. I’m in Rio de Janeiro. I am an addict, five years away from getting sober and Brazil is intense. It had become almost too much for me, a Carnival of high octane, blurry, alcohol infused never ending roller coasters. 'Blockos' started at eight, sometimes seven am, with beer being poured down our necks and very little food other than the occasional dough ball. I could hardly take it. The night previous I had marched with the crowds to the official parade with my friends before having a kind of panic attack and running, half drunk and terrified of nothing back to the apartment to make ill-judged Skype call to an ex. I wanted home: I wanted England, where the beer and mood were room temperature. I was burning up.

I'd been under the impression that weed would be falling from the trees in Brazil. My friend told me in Jamaica a guy sold her some in a bin bag - yes bin bag for about 40p. I wondered what part of that story she exaggerated. Nobody could be bothered to get weed. I found this lazy. The fact I needed it drove me on the following mission which I almost immediately regretted, wondering if it was really worth nearly driving yourself to the point of stressful insanity in order to chill out a bit. This country was like heaven and hell, one extreme to the other. It seemed to fit that bill that in order to relax I'd need to near on give myself a nervous breakdown.

I get to 'Thiago' at the foot of a mountain in a banged up fiesta. I wait for about twelve minutes in the beating heat before this. It's seven am, and nobody knows I’ve left the apartment. The objective is simple. The location is approximate. The car has a hole in the roof.

Inside, I thank God for the presence of a seatbelt and make great use of it. The fact this precaution took me by hold on the way up is laughable, considering the way down, but onwards.

Thiago laughs and jokes and we communicate a little in broken English/Portuguese. As we drive into the favela he waves at various people and I begin to feel like the token 'gringa' we've been labelled as since we touched down in Rio; suddenly self conscious of my sun bleached hair and prawn-like 'tan'.

The house is like my teens, with 15 year old boy type Bob Marley posters. He likes the Beatles, so that's something. I carve my grandfather's Liverpudlian-tinged dulcet tones. I want to go to a pub. I want to go to a cornershop and buy a milky way and have a cup of tea. I wonder why the hell I'm travelling anyway if I'm so adverse to other cultures. My phone rings, and it's my travelling buddy, furious that I've upped and left before she's even woken up.

'We're supposed to be going to Sugarloaf Mountain.'

'No, I know, I just didn't think this was going to take quite this long..' I'm not sure what I thought was going to happen, and the realisation that I'm in a favela on my own starts to creep in. Isn't that what they tell you not to do?

'For fuck sake' she says.

'I'm coming!' I try to protest.

'I'm going on my own. What are you doing up there?!'

'Getting weed.'

She sighs angrily and puts down the phone. I look at Thiago and his smiling friend who has joined us. I stand out glaringly in the so-laid-back-we're-almost-falling-over atmosphere as I twitch in the corner, wondering how THE FUCK I'm going to get down that hill.

Ten minutes later, I'm having a bartering match with Thiago in the street over whether or not he can kiss me, whether or not I have a boyfriend, and whether or not this matters. In Brazil apparently, it does not. It's taken me twenty minutes and one bursting into tears episode to try and explain to him that I need to go, that my friend is waiting, that no she will not understand if I 'stay up here a little while and relax.'

'Tranquilo' he tells me, again and again and again.

'I can't calm down. I need to go.'

'Ok baby.' he finally concedes, before taking me part of the way down the hill and then trying to come on to me beside a truck full of rotten fruit.

'It's carnival!' he says. 'You can kiss another boy!'

I don't have the patience at this point to explain I'm a lesbian, so I tell him I have a boyfriend I am very much in love with. He looks at me confused, as if I've just told him a nursery rhyme in Japanese.

'I'm sorry' I lie. 'I just really need to go to Sugarloaf Mountain.'

The next five minutes are unbearably awkward as we wait for one of the moped guys to take me down the hill. The street is dusty and by now boiling hot, and beside us two moped guys are having an argument, sitting on their bikes tired after a night of driving people around. I pray that they'll take me, but they carry on arguing until one of them gets pissed off and they both ride away, my ticket to freedom disappearing in the jigsaw metropolis of shanty houses, the hum of the bike slowly fading into the distance. The fruit truck turns around and drives off. Thiago sits on the pavement, bored. He probably wanted to leave but stayed out of some kind of civic duty knowing that I'd be plucked from the street in my fragile state and doomed to live out my life as a cocktail gringa slave, serving beer to horny men with sweat covered shirts and ill fitting hats. I look out over the view, a paramount view of a city so alive it was almost breathing sex. It looked like Peter Pan's never land, a locked little paradise cove I couldn't get out of, green, ripe, turned on and now beginning to wake for another day of partying.

Eventually an older guy with longish hair and an air of desperation arrives. I embrace him when he says he'll take me. We begin riding down the hill, and with a sudden shock my skin blisters itself to the side of the moped. The pain is a small price to pay for my liberty though, and I grimace the remaining distance until we reach reality again - cars, shops, traffic lights, bricks.

We stop. I climb back home through the aftermath of a carnival and pass the same broken down lamppost I’ve seen an hour earlier. Policeman stand around it, some of them drinking from coffee cups, staring at the sky.

When I get home my friend's already gone to sugarloaf mountain. Later I hear it was really nice. The weed was shit.

#brazil #sugarloaf #mountain #travel #weed

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