Friday, June 12, 2009

Ducktales: Twenty Years Later - Episode 5

I am just churning these out, aren't I? I should be sleeping. Oh well.

More MSpaint Ducks as well. It's Huey Today! Did you notice? Enjoy the thrilling conclusion to yesterday's adventure.


Episode 5:

"He's back here!"

There was a big commotion outside of the men's room, followed by Huey running in, before grabbing the trash can and wedging it under the doorknob. He then looked around the bathroom. It was clean and sterile, as does a highbrow establishment like that. It contained only a single toilet stall, with a high window lending the room a bit of the ever escaping twilight from outside.

Crash! The sound of a shoulder impacting the door caused Huey's mind to go into overdrive. Quickly, with no time to think, he grasped the napkin dispenser with his strong fingers and pulled. After a moment of strain, underscored by the battering on the door as well as the steady sound of people's voices, the movable top cover of the dispenser came away from the rest of the mechanism. Wielding the thick metal casing, Huey then climbed up on the sink nearest to the window. He swung, and with a tinkling crash, the window was open.

A moment later, the trashcan wedging the door closed was knocked out of place, spreading paper towels and assorted garbage all over the checkered tiles of the floor. The two men in black rushed in, guns in hand, just a moment too late. They fired on the white tail feathers as they disappeared from view through the window.


Hands up and with a large-calibur machine gun waving around on the other end of the room, Dewey, Louie, and Lorelai stood. Lorelai had already taken off her impressive diamond collection and added it to the large pile of treasure the Beagle boys had amassed in the center of the room, and the boys had, reluctantly, parted with the meager pocket change the two of them carried in their pockets.

Louie whispered to his two companions, so that only they could hear, "We don't have time for this. Huey is in trouble."

"But what can we do?" said Lorelai, her sensual demeanor quickly leaving her face and habits, "If we move, Bonehead over there is going to start taking potshots."

Dewey was paying more attention to the growing pile of money and jewels in the center of the room, mentally counting out the one dollar bill, eight pennies, two quarters, and three nickels he had added to the pile, "We should do what they tell us, Louie. They're serious."

Louie's face was grim, a sharp contrast with his carefree attitude earlier. "If we can set up a distraction, I could slip away and go help Huey... but... Would you be okay here, Dewey?"

"What are you talking about? How could you help Huey all alone?"

"Nevermind," said Lorelai to Dewey. She then turned to Louie, "I'll keep Dewey safe. You go."

At this point, the three Beagle boys had begun to wander the room, terrorizing and searching the stragglers for jewels they may have missed. The swarthy Beagle known as "Boner" was coming towards the Duck's group. He had spotted Lorelai from across the room, it seems, and he was licking his palms and using the saliva to push back his already veritably dripping hair. He began to walk towards the goose, leading the charge with his overactive crotch. She smiled at him, and while he was distracted with her smile, very discreetly picked a fork up off of a nearby table.

"We-he-hell. There's lots of classy ladies around here but you, I say, are the classiest of all of em," said Boner, licking his lips as he walked and spoke, "Sorry to steals your classy jewels lady, but I gots to make a living, dig?"

Lorelai smiled, "Of course. Mr... Boner, was it? Sit. Please." She sat at a table herself and patted the chair next to her. "Why would you want to rob poor little me?"

Taking the hint, Boner smiled and undulated up towards the seat. "Don't take it personal baby. It's just business. When a man's got business even dames have gotta respect tha-aaAAAHAHHHHHHH!"

Boner jumped at least three feet into the air. The fork placed on the seat he had just sat on was positioned perfectly to give his namesake something to think about for the next few days. Dewey flinched at the sight of the fork sticking out of the Beagle's junk, and looked away. It was then he noticed that Louie had already somehow disappeared. He looked back towards the hopping Beagle, drawing the attention of everyone in the room, and noticed that Lorelai was also gone.

"Hey!" He said, beginning to sweat, thinking himself abandoned.


The rattle of a chain link fence was the soundtrack of the chase, as Huey climbed, jumped, and ducked around town, away from the posh city, towards the boardwalk and, hopefully, eventually, the Sea Duck, and freedom. As he ran up an alley towards the coast, he tipped over a metal trash can, spilling the foul smelling contents all over the mouth of the alley. As he ran on, he could hear the can be pushed out of the way again by his pursuers.

He approached a set of stairs leading down to the Boardwalks, but skipped them, opting instead to slide down the slick guardrail on his white tail. He winced from the friction, but was thankful for the speed. Hitting the ground running, the duck ran on to his left, towards the docks, his webbed feet slapping up and down on the wooden boards. He looked behind himself, and found that he had momentarily eluded the two men.

With his eyes otherwise occupied, however, he couldn't stop from smashing right into a hotdog cart. Steamed hotdogs and buns flew everywhere as the vendor screamed at the clumsy duck in a squiggly language he couldn't quite identify.

"Sorry!" he called out as he stood. However, the slippery hot dogs underfoot tripped him up, causing him to fall to the boards once again. He rolled over, trying to get a good look at the direction the two men were coming from. He could see them coming, guns drawn. The vendor, seeing the guns, decided that this wasn't worth a hotdog cart and fled.

"Stop!" Said the leftmost man, despite the fact that Huey had already stopped.

Huey raised his hands, trying a smile, "Well, fellas. What brings you out here?"

"Huey Duck. The government wants to talk with y-urk!"

The right most man was suddenly a tall tree in the wood, making a long, creaking sigh as he fell. The left man turned just in time to catch a large, dented pipe in the face, wielded by a shadowy figure. Dazed, he fell atop his partner. Both guns were quickly picked up by the stranger, and thrown into the water under the boardwalk.


As if on cue, the gradually receding twilight was cut as a streetlamp up above switched on. The green domino mask was what he saw first, then the long green cape, wrapped around the lithe body. The masked face rose as the figure dropped the pipe on the ground.

"Are you alright, citizen?"

"Hi Louie."

Losing his composure immediately, the Green Phantom gave an aggravated growl, "Oh come ON! What's the point of a costume if nobody gets fooled? How did you know?"

"We're identical, Louie. A little tiny mask isn't going to hide that. Seriously, it's like looking in a green-tinted mirror."

Rolling his eyes, Louie gave a sigh. "Fine. Come on. We're getting you out of here."

"Fine with me."

With no more words, the two figures sprinted on towards the Sea Duck.


"Well, Except for that little... distraction," began Braincase Beagle with a sideways glare towards his brother Boner, slumped over Ballast's huge doughy shoulder with an icepack strapped over his unmentionables, "It was a lovely time we all had with the cream dee lay Cream of Duckburg high society. So long suckers!"

The two able Beagles then turned towards the exit, huge sacks full of loot, their dazed brother, and the huge machine gun slung over their shoulders. They began to run off towards the exit at a good clip. Dewey felt an urge inside as he saw the orange backs of one of his family's oldest enemies. Somehow, someway, there must be something he could do, not just for that $1.73, but for something else. Something speaking to the baser nature of the Duck family and the McDuck clan.

And also, $1.73. That's busfare for a whole week, and a few bits of penny candy besides. He took a single tentative step towards the fleeing beagles, intending o catch up to them and... what, exactly? Account them to death? His mind raced, instincts crashing up against hang-ups, creating a roiling sea of conflict behind the Duck's artificially calm fa├žade.

He was about to call out, when suddenly, the doors slammed shut in front of the fleeing thieves, trapping them momentarily inside. Then, from within the Restaurant, a great billowing cloud of smoke issued forth. For a moment, all inside were blinded by white-grey smoke. There was then a sound of rustling.

"I am the terror that flaps in the night!" said the voice, below the sound of billowing capes, "I am the bars that make up your jailcell."

There were a few thick impacts of fists on flesh. Screams and grunts issued forth in between the socks and biffs. Suddenly, the sound of gunfire issued forth, to the screams of the high-society ladies. Huey ran forward, the silhouette becoming more and more solid as the smoke cleared. He could see Ballast Beagle, firing his minigun in every direction, striking walls, doors, tables, and abandoned food. With a great leap, Dewey jumped up onto the huge Beagle's shoulders, grasping him around the neck with his arms.


While riding the bucking beagle, he could see snippets of his savior. Purple, red, purple,White feathers.

"Lorelai? Run!"

"Not my name, but thanks for the diversion."

Twang! It sounded like a bow and arrow. In an instant, Ballast began to slow down, before stopping altogether, falling forward onto his two companions, causing a large, anguished groan.

His world spinning, Dewey slowly stood, looking up at who he thought was Lorelai Loon. Instead, he saw the wide-brimmed hat, the cloak, the double-breasted suit, the mask.


"Close enough," said Darkwing Duck, "Don't worry about him. I gave him a sleepy-shot. Come on. Louie sent me."

She reached out her hand, which Dewey flinched away from.

"Wait!" he yelled, before he began digging in the sack, fishing out one dollar, eight pennies, two quarters, and three nickels exactly. "Now I'm ready!"

The two of them ran out into the city streets, and instantly regretted it. There was a pervasive smell of gunpowder and smoke, and the dusk sky was dyed yellow and orange near the buildings, and black high above, with the telltale signs of fire. Dewey's eyes shot all around him, there were people running in every direction, some away from some unknown disaster, and a few, in tell-tale Orange sweaters, towards further mischief. Their ears were assaulted with gunfire, screaming, rioting in the streets. The stinging tang of teargas in the air signaled that the police had been here and tried to get things under control, but there was nothing but a few discarded helmets around.

"What's going on?" asked Darkwing, "You Duckburgies sure know how to throw a party."

"They were serious. They said... They said they 'own this town.' It's finally happened. The Beagle Boys have taken over Duckburg."

Raising her hands towards the heavens, Darkwing answered, "That's just great. What now?"

"Killmotor hill. My Uncle's money bin is the safest place in Duckburg. If we can get there..."

"Say no more." She fired a grappling arrow towards a distant roof.

Dewey found a slender arm wrapped around his waist. "So you say you know my brother?"

"Not well," Said Darkwing, "In all honesty, we've barely just met."

And with that, they were off, up to the rooftops, and towards the stronghold at Killmotor hill.


"Beagle boys?"

The Green Phantom and Huey Duck were hiding behind two barrels of what smelled like pickled fish, observing the strange sight of a team of Beagle Boys, mostly indistinguishable except for the numbers adorning their chests, but with a few oddballs here and there. There were about six of them surrounding the docks, but with an obvious focus on the yellow custom Conwing L16 that made up Huey's livelihood.

"Yes. They attacked just as you left. But what are they doing here?"

"Looks like they're burning down the city. Hundreds of them. Ma Beagle must have been busy."

Huey grimaced, "Ugh. I think with that brain. I don't need anything like that mental image taking up space."

Louie ignored this comment, "You can't escape in your plane now."

"Then what are we going to do?"


"Same thing my Uncle always used to do in these situations," Said Dewey, as he wielded a small hammer to break a pane of glass. He then reached into a glass case, withdrawing a long, wide-nosed antique musket, and a bag of ammunition. "We stand our ground."

The main office in the bin was in full battle positions. Close Circuit camera images were emblazoned all over the desk's many television cameras. Alarms and sirens went off every now and then, to which Dewey would calmly press a few buttons on a console, causing strange mechanical noises to sound out outside, or he would simply point the end of his musket out the window and fire.

For her part, Darkwing was taking it well. She was used to such gadgets and future stuffs from her father's hideaway, and found that Scrooge McDuck and Drake Mallard ordered much of their equipment from the same manufacturers.

"So this is the famous Money Bin," She said, staring at the open safe door, where the cavernous vault stood empty, "Where's the money?"

"Banks. We each got one cubic acre of money from Uncle Scrooge's vault to do with as we pleased." Bang! The musket rang out, throwing out its acrid smell as it signaled the end of the line for a would-be invader.

"Makes sense." Suddenly, an alarm. "We've got someone past the first lockdown point."

"The pirhana tank will take care of them."

"Not this time... They're past it. They're past the acid bath too."

Dewey rushed over to the instruments, reading off of them, "How is that possible? They're past the laser hallway... AND the giant mousetrap."

"And the canon-hall. Guillotine room. Jaguar pit! We've got company!"

Darkwing and Dewey both took up their positions around the door, Dewey with his musket, sweat running off of his slick feathers, Darkwing with her bow pulled taut with a simple, deadly arrow knocked into it.

"Here they come." Said Dewey as a single beep sounded out.

The door to the office began to open, all sixteen lock-bolts opening easily. In a slow creak, the rusty hinges revealed two figures standing in the hall.

"Duck!" one of them yelled, before both threw themselves to the ground. A musketball and arrow flew over their heads.

The other voice called out, waving his arms from the floor, "It's us!" He crawled into the light, revealing himself to be Huey.

"Huey!" called Dewey, "You're all right!"

The other figure stood, closing the door and locking all sixteen bolts behind him with a practiced ease.

"Who's that?" blurted out Dewey as the Green-clad superhero turned around, "Where's Louie?"

Huey blinked, "You mean... you don't..." He looked over at Louie, who looked very pleased with himself. Huey shrugged. "Just another hero." He then let his eyes wander over to Darkwing Duck, "Must be a convention in town."

"Nevermind that," Said Louie, "We need to get out of here."

"But Killmotor hill is the safest place in Duckburg," argued Dewey.

"Not get out of the money Bin, Get out of the city. This is no mere crime wave. I can feel it. Something big is happening. We need to escape before we get caught up in it."

"Leave... Leave Duckburg? But..."

Louie's hands were at the lapels of Dewey's suit, "Listen. Duckburg is finished. The Beagles have torn it up. It's theirs now, but if we can escape, we can get it back from them later, but if we get killed here, it's over, you understand?" He gave Dewey a shake. "The bin may be safe for a while, but those Beagles... there's hundreds of them, thousands. You should see the way the streets are teeming with them. They'll get in eventually, climbing up on eachother's backs to get at you, the richest duck in town, and what would happen to McDuck Enterprises then? I can't let that happen."

"Who ARE you!?"

"Are you thick? Are you an idiot or something? I'm your Goddamn br..." He then saw Huey and Darkwing shaking their heads. He really doesn't know. "I... I'm the Goddamn Green Phantom, that's who I am. Saint Canard's newest crime-fighter, and I'm the guy that's going to save your life, whether you like it or not. Huey? DW? We're leaving."

He then punched Dewey in the gut, causing him to double over in pain. Bent over, the duck was easy to then pick up and carry him off out the door, still clutching the musket in his unconscious fingers.

Darkwing took a moment to address Huey, "You guys really take your sibling rivalry seriously, don't you?"

"No. This is a more recent thing. C'mon. Don't want him gut-punching you."

"Woe to he that tries."

They followed.


Dewey woke up a few minutes later, sitting in a strangely familiar rumble seat of a red convertible.

"Unca Donald. Stop the car. I feel sick."

"No Uncle Donald here, Dewey Duck," said the voice of his red-clad brother, "Wake up."

"Wha-?" He opened his eyes. The four of them were crammed into the tiny car, with those two strange superheroes in the front seats. He and Huey were scrunched into the small rumble seat in the back. "This is a 1934 Belchfire Runabout. Where did you get it? I've been looking for one like it forever!"

Huey rolled his eyes, "The city is burning down around our ears and you notice the crappy car. Can't this heap go faster, Phantom?"

"It's floored all the way, Huey."

Dewey took a moment to look around. The city was a wreck. Nearly every window was broken, and several small fires had broken out in garbage cans. Behind them were a few Beagles chasing the little car on foot, and in front...

"Look out!" cried Darkwing too late, just as a Beagle boy was thrown under the car. All four riders was jostled as the body was crushed under the quick-moving wheels.

Dewey was the first to recover from the shock, "So, where are we heading?"

"I hit someone!"

"Yeah. One of the people trying to kill us. Where are we heading?"

Huey picked up the slack, "The Sea Duck. We'll fly out of here."


The Boardwalk was near, and was getting nearer.

"Hold on!"

And suddenly it was very close indeed. The car had gone over a long stone staircase, and the bumps were juggling the four riders around. With a final impact, the front bumper slapped into the ground, kicking up sparks, before the car was on the wooden boards of the Boardwalk, and nearly home free.

"What about the guards?" asked Huey.

But Dewey was already filling the musket with gunpowder and packing down the large bullet, "Just keep driving towards the plane. Darkwing?"

"Got you loud and clear."

Louie, emboldened by Gosalyn's endorsement in the plan, stepped on the gas as hard as he could. The car slammed into the pickled fish barrels, sending them into the sea, and turning the heads of several of the Beagles standing guard. The two closest were suddenly out of commission, one with a musket hole tearing through his face, sending white chunks of what could reliably be called teeth through the back of his neck, the other shot in the arm much less gruesomely with one of DW's arrows coated in strong sedative, causing him to quickly slump over, asleep. The remaining four Beagles began to swarm towards the car, even as it moved towards them at a fast speed.

"We'll never shoot them all!"

"Hit the brakes!" Yelled Huey.


"Do it!"

He did, the brakes were hit. Huey, who had been crouched, standing on the rumble seat like a coiled spring, leaped towards the four beagle boys, a whirlwind of fists and legs, using the velocity gained from the car's sudden stop to knock the four crooks off guard. Whack. One was caught in the jaw by a fist, made hard from bar rumbles the world over and fingers made clever by the joy of flight. Another was kicked in the stomach. Another had an elbow planted in his leg, with a sickening crack. The last one, a little behind his fellows, was jumped upon by the insane duck like the victim of a panther attack. Red faced and lost in the berserk rage of it, Huey beat the last beagle within an inch of his life before standing.

He smiled amiably, "All clear. Let's go." He then walked up to the cargo entrance of the yellow plane and lowered down the ramp, gesturing for Louie to drive the car right up into it.

Louie didn't move right away, his eyes were too wide for him to move. He was too busy thinking thoughts like 'Why can't I do things like that? I'm supposed to be the superhero here.' He then floored the pedals, and drove the car up into the Seaduck.

Huey walked in after and prepared to close the back, when Dewey suddenly cried out.

"Webigail! We forgot Webigail!"

"I hate to say this, boss," Said Huey, still breathing hard from his earlier exertions, "But I think that's the least of out problems."

He pointed out to a small army of Beagle boys swarming up like a George Romero nightmare.

Louie cried, jumping out of the car, "We need to get out of here!"

"No! Webigail... We have to wait!"

"I'm glad to see you care, Dewey, but I doubt she could get all the way here from... From..." But Huey was struck speechless.

A tall armored car was speeding towards the docks, cutting a wide swath through the crowd of orange. A large, slightly tattered hat was being waved out the side window.

"Warm up the engines, Huey!"

"You got it, Boss!" He then ran to the front. Soon enough, the propellers began to spin.

The armored car stopped roughly ahead of the crowd of criminals, and Webigail jumped out. Her sundress was ripped up the side to allow her to run, and her high heeled shoes were slung over her shoulder. In her other hand, she held the same case she had left Dewey with. She ran, pumping her legs and breathing hard. Dewey ran to the edge of the ramp and held out his hand.

"DEWEY!" She screamed as the plane began moving forwards.

"Huey! Stop! Webigails not on yet!"

But he couldn't hear. Dewey shook his head and turned back towards Webby. She was holding out the case for Dewey to take.

"Take it!"

He reached, his hand able to just reach towards the loop of the case. There was a moment of uncertainly, before his hand shot out and grabbed webigail's wrist roughly just as the plane moved off of the dock and over the water, causing Webby to hang over the edge of the ramp, her shoes falling into the drink. The Green Phantom ran up, grabbing her other arm. Together the two brothers pulled Webby up and to a safe distance from the ramp, just as DW operated the closing mechanism, and Huey lifted the plane off of the ground.

The next thing they knew, Dewey and Webby were in each other's arms, embracing, breathing hard, just trying to ride out the sudden rush of adrenalin from their near-death experience.

"...Dewey... I... I got the..."

"I... I know... Thank you, Ms. Vanderquack..."


A little later, after everyone had calmed down, and the glowing aura of Duckburg disappeared over the horizon, The Green Phantom was ranting, up on his feet even as the others were securely fastened to the ratty old seats in the passenger area.

"...That was WAY too organized to just be a random riot."

"These are the Beagle boys, Phantom," Said Webigail, playing along with Dewey's apparent ignorance of his brother's identity, "They've done things like this before."

"But not this huge, or organized, and NEVER on their own. That was a war down there, Webby. Someone waged a war on Duckburg."

"Perhaps it's linked with that little problem we noticed with McDuck's finances," said Darkwing.

Dewey's face perked up, "Problem? Finances?"

"Tell him, Gadgets."

The Green Phantom nodded, "It's the reason we were in Duckburg in the first place. McDuck Enterprises has been filtering money through the Saint Canard underworld."

"What!? Impossible!"

"Call it what you like, but that's what's happened, and if my hunch is right it has something to do with this crime wave."

"It could be a coincidence."
"Coincidences don't exist for us Ducks. Somehow, the BBs and the Six hundred thou are related."


Louie briefly shrank back, recognizing the texture of this rage, "Er... give or take."

Louie could have sworn that smoke poured out of Dewey's nostrils, "Those... I... Th... I'll kill them!"

"Slow down, Mr. Moneybags," said Darkwing, "We aren't killing anyone until we figure out who it was."

"And how do we do that?" asked Dewey, anxious.

"We don't. That's what we were in Duckburg to do, and it seems Duckburg is off-limits."

They all sighed. Louie sat, and buckled in, letting the hum of the engines, now a mere background noise, rumble through him.

As if wishing to diffuse the situation, Webby began to speak, "Dewey. What about...?"

Dewey instantly perked up, "I completely forgot!" He then reached under his seat, opening the case and pulling out two small packages."

"What's that?" asked Louie.

In answer, Dewey merely unwrapped the larger package, revealing a small glass dome, like a snow globe, with a single, polished dime sitting in the center, with the inscribed year of 1877.

Louie was suddenly in awe, "Is... Is that...?"

"His number one," said Webby, in equal awe.

"I can't believe you saved it!"

"I had to. He left it to me. He wanted me to spend it. He was gone, and his wealth would go with him, off to be redistributed, but... But I couldn't bring myself to spend it. We've spent too much time and resources protecting it from robbers and crooks to just let it go." He rubbed the glass dome with his hand.

Darkwing, who barely knew the lore around the so-called 'Lucky dime' was anxious to get on with it, "And in the other package?"

Dewey nodded, placing the Lucky dime's case gently in Webigail's lap, before slowly unwrapping the other package.

"" said the Green Phantom, "...You didn't!"

"I did. I had Webby sell one of my gold samples for as much as she could get for it." He then held up another small, clear case, in which was held a small coin. "But had her deduct this first."

"Uh... another dime?" asked Darkwing Duck, unimpressed from stem to stern.

"Yes. Independent from my brothers, from my uncles, from crooks or co-workers or leeches." He held the case up reverentially, as if it was a precious stone. "The start of my fortune. My first dime. My number one dime."

1 comment:

  1. Wow.

    I knew these three were going to messed-up beyond beleif. But I only saw the true extent of their screwed-upness when they're playing together.

    The idealist withing me says that I should hope they solve their problems and rise beyond their ruts and face their demons.The cynic without says that I shouldn't be surprised if they all go out of this adventure unchanged, but with new found respect for their brotherly-bond.

    I heartily await if they either "grow up" or they "mature".