Wednesday, July 8, 2009

Ducktales: Twenty Years Later - Episode 16

Here you go. Lots of superhero action in this one, and getting a little use out of minor Darkwing Duck characters that only got one or two episodes. I thought the badass little Green Phantom doodle up there might be appropriate to be the header on this Chapter, though he's a little less wrapped up than I imagined him. Oh well.



Episode 16:

The chair he had finally crashed in the night before just as the dawn began to peek over the horizon seemed much more comfortable than it actually was as Doofus, the bits of his armor lying around him, began to wake. The rolling chair in the small room in front of a desk full of model planes and boats creaked as his bulk turned, his back beginning to protest the treatment.

Suddenly, the alarm built into the headpiece of his armor, laying out on the unused bed, fired off its horrible noise. Doofus, used to his rigid schedule, nearly immediately stood, trying to trick himself into believing he was wide awake. He leaned over his desk and looked out of the window of the tiny apartment.

The Duckburg skyline, or at least the couple of inches of it that he could see over the brick wall built facing his window, answered him back, still sleeping in the dusty dawn air. As many times as he went over to clean up Saint Canard and the outlying cities, Gizmoduck would always have a soft spot for Duckburg before the nine-to-five crowd appeared to clog its streets.

A hollow ringing noise interrupted his viewing, and he dug through the large pile of armor for the forearm piece, which was vibrating and making the pervasive noise. With a clumsy grace unused to the natural strength of his body, he manipulated the fingers of the armored hand into a 'phone' position and pulled an antennae from the thumb, before placing it to his ear and putting on his "hero" voice.


"There is an altercation downtown, please quell it."

"Mr. Crackshell?" he said, his voice slipping, "Wait, what...?"

But it was too late, his mentor, Fenton Crackshell, had hung up. Doofus sighed. He was bound to following him, just for the debt of saving his life all those years ago, but lately... Something must have happened within the past few years.

No matter however, Doofus' petty quibbles were not needed anymore. Gizmoduck had to be in charge now. He stood in the center of the room, making sure none of his furniture was in the way of the inert armor.

"Blathering Blatherskite!"


In the aftermath of the siege on Duckburg, the town had bounced back admirably, even as the surrounding towns and cities locked down their borders and tightened their laws to prevent the same thing from happening to them, Duckburg flourished, used to and nostalgic for such disaster as part and parcel for living in the shadow of a giant cube of money in the center of town for near its entire history.

Nearby, Saint Canard had not been so lucky. Alarmists and opportunists had pounced upon the disaster of its sister city, and used it as a springboard for political and ideological gain. One of the largest proponents of the stricter laws was the hero residing in Duckburg, Gizmoduck, who became attached to a bit of folk knowledge that a hero associating with the hated Dewey Duck, A relatively new cape named "The Green Phantom" had been the orchestrating force behind the siege on Dewey's orders. Gizmo had never even hinted at this little fun fact, but nevertheless, is was often attributed to him.

As Saint Canard locked down further and further, and the heroes within were treated with more and more contempt and suspicion, the people and politicians had turned to Farid Kagan's private bodyguard (although how much sense did it make for a hero living in Calisota to be the bodyguard for a man living in Bombay, India?) as the last trustworthy man in the cape and mask crowd. He was asked to head up several groups, charities, and rallies meant to pass a bit of legislation limiting the freedoms of the vigilante set. "Too long," they would say, "Have we let just anyone take up a mantle for our protection when we should have been more discerning. This disaster in Duckburg is a object lesson in this fact." In a whirlwind political, the bill was passed in the state congress, and just like that unlicensed vigilantism was prohibited within the state of Calisota.

Of course, not all heroes went quietly into the night, never to be seen again. Some heroes were like the Green Phantom, or Darkwing, or Gizmoduck, mere mortals putting up a mask or a suit and vowing to protect the world any way they could, out of some feeling of need or guilt or duty. Some heroes, however had no choice.

When Saint Canard was essentially locked down to super-powered activity, several of the former good guys fled the town altogether, heading for other cities where their powers and freedoms would be respected. Duckburg was a frequent stop on this mass pilgrimage of the costumed vigilante, and in particular, the League of Mutants.

Sirens pierced the air as the spinning lights cast everything in tones of red and blue. Police cars and vans were set in a wagon train, surrounding four figures standing back-to-back-to-back. At the head of the group and ultimately in control of them was an aging rooster in a red and blue costume. He had a long, thin body that appeared to wobble with every slight move he made. Surrounding him were three others, mere babes when compared to their venerable leader. They were mutants, exposed to certain stimuli in the womb and born with incredible powers.

"Masked Vigilantes," said a voice in a megaphone coming from Captain O'hara, at the head of his SWAT team, ready to jump in at a moment's notice, "You are under arrest for practicing vigilante justice within the state of Calisota. Please give yourselves up without a fight. Throw down your weapons and masks and come with us. If you do not fight, perhaps you may register yourselves with the city of Duckburg and..."

"Register! Pah!" Yelled one of the young mutants. He was a cat, barely a teenager, but with a fire in his eyes and a revolutionary spirit in his voice. His costume consisted of a blue jumpsuit and a pair of paw-print boxer shorts on his head, with two eye-holes cut out so he could see. "Reveal our real names to the public? Unmask and live in fear for our families and friends? Never!"

A girl-duck, just a little older than her underpantsed ally, stood by, trying to calm him down. She did not look kindly upon Captain O'hara's team however. She wore a more subdued outfit, in earth tones, and with a billowing brown cape. Over her eyes she wore a domino mask turned up at either end in sharp points that extended out and up like a pair of cats eye glasses.

To Her side, trying his best to hide behind the girl-duck's cape, stood a terrier about the same age, but slightly shorter. His clothes were plain, a simple jacket, pants, and a bowler hat, but with a running watch built into the hat.

The Rooster at the lead held up his arm, "Be still, Wedge."

"Rubber chicken," said the duck, "We're trapped. This many people... and they're police, we can't hurt police, can we?"

"If they stand in our way, I can give it a shot," said the one called 'Wedge.'

The terrier and duck looked towards their leader for advice, as Wedge stood ready to attack at a moment's notice like a loaded gun.

The rooster crossed his pliable arms for a moment, before he began to speak, "Wedge may be right..."

The dog spoke up, "But RC...!"

"You have thirty seconds to comply!" called O'hara.

Each of the young mutants in turn looked towards their mentor and leader, the Rubber Chicken, victim of his father's accidental dip in a molten rubber bath just before his conception. After a moment, as O'hara counted down the seconds on his watch, the rooster let his hardened gaze rise up.

"Let them come."

"Attack!" Yelled Captain O'hara, signaling the vans to open up, spilling forth the armored civilian army at his command. Each man was dressed in Kevlar and visored helmet, wielding a police baton and Plexiglas shield.

"Dusty! Now!" Yelled the Rubber Chicken.

Jumping at the call to action, the duck hopped forward, breathing in deep. Her chest expanded greatly to accommodate all of the excess air she took in, until her rib cage was grown impossibly large. As the approaching wall of men approached the duck, holding her breath, on all sides, she waved her arms to her companions, giving the signal. The three of them threw themselves to the ground quickly, and the duck let her breath go.

It wasn't air anymore, but could be described more like the dust or sand that is kicked up as a car drives by on a dry day, or what is sent towards your eyes as the bully kicks his sand castle in your direction. The dusty air was expelled from her lungs, seemingly secreted from her own body, and the wind, now with a mind of its own, began to home in on individual men in the lineup.

Between gaps in visors and helmets the individual grains of dust flew, unerringly finding sensitive eyes to irritate. The uncanny power to breathe out eye-homing sand was the amazing forte of the Dusty Duck, the windy wonder, whose fate was decided when her mother, a chemist at a cat litter factory, caught the experimental grits in her eyes while pregnant with her daughter. Under her powers, most of the encroaching men paused, grunting, trying to blink away the irritation of sand in their eyes, causing the ever encroaching circle of humanity to stall for just a moment.

A moment was all that was needed. The Wedge was off like a shot. The cat's tail gave a whip crack as he jumped towards the wall of armored bodies, still rubbing and blinking back their sandy eyes. He pointed his arms towards them, and as if in a wave, each man gave a yelp as there came a tightness in his drawers.

The Wedge could have been a normal boy had it not been for his father, an inspector at an underwear factory which began to use a new type of stitching process without telling the workers. Finding himself suddenly sewn permanently into a pair of briefs, the inspector soon after conceived a son, who had the amazing power of telekinesis over underwear, which he used to violently fight crime after his parents were murdered before his eyes by a crook in an alley.

The men screamed as their nether regions were assaulted by the ever tightening shorts they wore, the thick Kevlar trousers and body armor useless to protect them from their own clothes. Several of the weaker men fell to the ground, already drained from the assault upon their most sensitive parts. However, many still came, the few commandos among them holding the line as their downed allies writhed in pain.

Suddenly, long arms shot out from the center of the circle. The Rubber Chicken's stretch, the former really really really long arm of the law, extended out to wrap around the group, tangling them up in a net of rubber limbs.

As the Rubber Chicken stood his ground, cleaning up the men Dusty Duck and The Wedge could not deal with, he turned to the last of the group, the terrier, who was looking a little sheepish as he held the clock-themed bowler in his head.

"What time is it?" asked the Rubber Chicken.

"Nine-forty-five AM and five seconds Duckburg Standard Time... Now. We've been running for ten hours. The nice policeman actually gave us forty-three seconds before he attacked. It took you fellas eighteen seconds to fight off the SWAT team. It is a Tuesday..."

"Thank you, Watchdog."

YES! Watchdog, son of a clockmaker who was exposed to a strange radioactive quartz. He now has the unbeatable ability to know the exact time wherever he is, whenever he is. Don't knock it too hard. We can't all have good superpowers.

"We're winning, fellas!" yelled Dusty as she prepared to breath in again, "Keep it up!"

"If we can just make it out of the city limits," said Rubber Chicken.

"NO! We stay and fight the bastards," screamed The Wedge as he raised his arms, pulling a pair of briefs through their wearer's colon, "Don't you understand? If we run now we'll be running forever."

"Even so..."

"There is no more 'Even so,' Chicken! This is it. We go down fighting."

And there was nothing more that need be said. The unending stream of riot police swarmed in, only to be taken out by the teamwork of the four mutants. However, eventually, painfully, inevitably, the heroes were worn down to the nub as the last wave approached, climbing on the backs of their comerades.

"They've taken off their underwear!" yelled The Wedge as he flailed ineffectively towards the approaching guard, "I can't effect them!"

"And they've started wearing goggles. I can't get anything in their eyes."

"And it is two minutes to ten-o'clock!"

"I hear you guys! Stand back!" Yelled the older man as he jumped up into the air on spring legs. He expanded his body suddenly, becoming a wide red sheet falling over the group of policemen, trapping them in himself. With a few well-controlled manipulations of his body, the entire group was crushed, not enough to kill, but hard enough to be knocked out and hurting for a while. The Rubber Chicken soon shrank back to his normal size.

"Did we win?"asked The Wedge, "Did we get them?"

There was a moment of silence as the four mutants were surrounded on all sides by the writhing or, in some cases, unmoving bodies of the Riot police, with Captain O'hara standing by, megaphone in hand trying to blink dust out of his eyes. Dusty Duck gave a yell of triumph.

"We did it!"

"Not yet!" called the Rubber Chicken, pointing his hand up towards the sky, "We've got company!"

The hum of a single propeller gave the four a chill of dred. Gizmoduck!

"Stop! You four are under citizen's arrest for unregistered vigilantism and assaulting an officer... ALL of the officers."

"You'll never take us alive!" railed The Wedge against the metal duck, shining in the morning sunlight. He raised his hands up high, screaming as he took hold of the approaching hero's underwear with his mind. However, after a horrid second, there was a look of pain on his face as his arms began to wobble. "No... It can't be... My one weakness!" He fell back wards, holding his head in his hands, debilitated by the piercing feeling in his mind.

"I knew I picked a good day to wear my boxer-briefs," said Gizmoduck.

The Wedge was a puddle on the floor, "Are they boxers... or are they briefs... I... can't... I..."

A long arm, followed by a dusty wind flew up towards Gizmoduck. The wind outraced the stretching hand, only to beat helplessly against the Metal Duck's tight visor. The hand had more luck, wrapping around the hero's hanging wheel and pulling sharply, sending Gizmoduck down to the ground with a crash.

"Stand back Dusty. This is my fight," Said the Rubber Chicken, trembling a bit, but staying firm, having no room for his former cowardice on the battlefield while his students, the outcast dregs of a society that won't accept them, needed his guidance. If he loses here, and these poor kids have no guidence, he might as well just send the rage-fueled villains-in-training overseas to F.O.W.L right now and get it over with.

"Be... Be careful Rubber Chicken," Said Dusty, helping Watchdog drag the strained Wedge away from the fight.

Gizmoduck rose from the dust cloud that had been kicked up by baing slammed into the ground, and stood, still shining. The two heroes faced each other down, on one side the light of Duckburg; The unbreakable paragon of order and justice; Gizmoduck. On the other side, a scrappy c-lister with kids in tow who was kicked out of Saint Canard by a law that repressed his kind, mutant kind. At ideological loggerheads, these two heroes drew their lines in the sand and prepared themselves.

They screamed as they ran towards each other. The wildly, artlessly flailing limbs of the Rubber Chicken beating and grappling the robot duck to the ground, using his pliability and invulnerability to make up for what he lacked in sheer strength. However, his lack of mastery over his powers proved to be his downfall. Using his gift of speed, not strength, Gizmoduck was able to duck around the flailing arms and legs, going through them, leading them in knots and loops that would take a moment to untangle. After a few moments, he had succeeded in creating a jumble out of the Chicken, and while he tried to recover, fired a net out of his chest coated with an adhesive substance. The gooey netting stuck fast to the mutant, rendering him immobile.

As their master struggled to untangle himself while also stuck to a net, Dusty Duck had the foresight to begin the retreat. Wordlessly, she indicated for Watchdog to run, and he soon disappeared down an alley, ripping off his mask and hat to take refuge in his secret identity. Dusty took the still weakened Wedge by the shoulder, trying to help him limp away as their master kept Gizmo busy. However, having dispatched the Rubber Chicken, Gizmoduck was able to move on, moving towards the two fleeing mutants quickly.

"Come on Wedge. Get up. You've got to move!" she grunted, bearing the weight of her ally with her whole body, "Go!"

But it was no use, his mind had been blown by the presence of Boxer-briefs and would not be back in shape until he had time to recover. She looked back, seeing the unicycled hero approaching rapidly. She screamed incoherent curses at her ally to move, but soon collapsed under his dead weight.

Rolling out from under The Wedge, Dusty Duck turned her head and saw Gizmoduck standing over her, before he placed a pair of heavy handcuffs on the two of them, connecting them to each other.

"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you do not have an attorney, one will be provided to you by the state of Calisota."


"Come with me, please."

"Step away from the girl, Gizmo!" yelled a voice coming from behind.

Gizmoduck turned quickly, recognizing the voice. He fired a rocket out of a launcher that popped out of his back, which screamed towards its target, a certain flash of a green costume. The rocket pierced through the fabric, burning a hole clean through. Too late, he realized that what he thought was the Green Phantom was merely a sheet in the hero's chosen color that was billowing through the air.

A heavy impact on his back, and suddenly, Huey Duck was clinging to him, tearing at his exposed beak and neck with his hands. As he raised his arms to try to pry the red-clad duck off of him, he heard a loud gunshot, followed by a pop, and his tire was flat.

"Now, Louie!" yelled the voice of his quarry, before he noticed that he was up on the second floor of a building. He looked around for the green-clad hero, but was too late. Huey jumped from the back of the Duck of Steel, just before a rope lasso closed around his exposed neck. With a deft tug, Gizmoduck was on his back, unable to get the traction required to stand on his flat tire, and with his windpipe only partially open.

He saw Louie hobble out of an ally, fully costumed but for the lack of his destroyed mask. In places, the form-hugging costumed was lumpy from the bandages.

"Did we get him?"

"Don't relax yet," said Huey, his voice a smile, "Gyro Gearloose invented that thing. It could do anything."

"You two!" yelled Louie as he approached the two mutants. He knelt painfully as he pulled a simple hairpin from his utility belt, forgoing the $700 lockpicking system that he never took out of the little box, and undid their shackles. "Run, and don't stop until you hit the state line. We'll send Rubber Chicken after you."

"Who are you?" asked Dusty.

"No time. Just go!" And with that, Dusty was able to force her ally up, having had some time to recover from the Boxer-brief rampage, and the two of them hobbled away from the scene of reverse police brutality.

"So... You've got me on my back now, villains?" Said Gizmoduck, ripping the rope around his neck apart, allowing him to speak, "I never thought you would have the nerve to come back to Duckburg, Dewey Duck. Captain O'hara!" he yelled, "Place these men under arrest!"

But no voice answered him. The megaphone lay abandoned. Captain O'hara had wisely gone for backup.

"We're gonna make this quick, Gizmo..." said Dewey.

"You'll do nothing of the sort!" He then pressed a button on his chest. Instantly, his tire began to spin. The old, dead pieces flew off in all directions and a new one seemed to grow in its place. The three boys drew back as Gizmoduck righted himself, reaching for one of his gizmos.

"Manual Override, User: Crackshell: Codeword: Blatherskite! Armor Off!" yelled a voice. Instantly, the armor began to fall away from Gizmoduck, from the tire, right up to the chest, to the arms and helmet. Eventually, there he stood, looking stunned squinting from the sudden blindness caused by the loss of the vision-correcting helmet.

"Wh-what?" He said, as he looked around, the world a blur, he reached for his glasses, but found his arms caught in a crushing grip.

"It really is Doofus!" said Huey as he held the large blue-sweatered man by the arms, using the ample strength hidden in his smaller frame to subdue the physically weaker Doofus.

"You... But... How? How do you?"

"I'm sorry Doofus," said a voice, THE voice, "It's over."

"M-Mr. Crackshell?" He wanted so to put on his glasses.

"Yes, Doofus. It's me."

"But... Mr. Crackshell, I did everything you wanted me to do. Why are you...? Why are you working with these terrorists?"

"You're confused, Doofus. I've been away for a long time. Give him his glasses, Dewey."

Dewey bent down and retrieved the specs from Doofus' front pocket, and suddenly, Doofus could see clearly. He saw, standing before him, Fenton Crackshell, wearing only a simple white shirt, standing on both of his feet.

"You... you're walking..."

"Shouldn't I be?"

"Fenton... Mr. Crackshell was in an accident. He has to sit in a chair..."

"I'm right here, Doofus. Who are you...?"

"You can't be Mr. Crackshell! He would never associate with... with Terrorists! I've done everything he's told me to do. All the... All the horrible... hunting down all of those rogue heroes." He began to struggle against Huey, pure righteous fury giving his arms newfound strength. "Let go of me! Let go!"

Dewey and Louie ran in to grab hold, but Fenton saw just in time, the glint in Doofus's eye. He whipped his head around, throwing his glasses off of his face.

"Boys! Get away from him!"

Huey let go just in time, and Dewey and Louie were able to back away just as Doofus called out, "Blathering Blatherskite." The reactivated armor flew Towards Doofus, creating a small tornado, before there stood Gizmoduck. The Duck of steel looked as if he might stand and fight, but soon turned on his wheel and started away, rolling over the prone bodies of the SWAT team.

"He's getting away!" cried Dewey.

"I know exactly where he's going. We have time for one more thing," said Fenton, kneeling beside the bound Rubber Chicken, pulling out a swiss army knife, "Sorry about that, Chicken. I Hope my student didn't hurt yours too bad."

The Chicken sighed as he was eventually freed from the gooey and gradually hardening threads of the net, "Don't worry, I'm used to things like this by now."


Down the elevator under 'Ma's' trailer, past the trophy room and into the main hall, Gizmoduck rolled, before saying the codeword and tearing his armor away from himself.

"Mr. Crackshell!"

"What have I told you...?"

"It's important! There's... there..." But the seed of doubt had entered Doofus's mind. What if... No! impossible. It can't be. "There's another Fenton Crackshell. An imposter!"

Fenton, sitting in his wheelchair before his large computer array, turned slowly towards Doofus. "And did you take care of him?"

"I... It... I couldn't. They... He was with Dewey Duck and his brothers. I had to get away."

"You have the suit, and you couldn't hold off the three Duck brothers?"

"They... I'm sorry... but..."

"You useless, braindead child. I should kick you out on the street righ now. After everything I've done for you!"

"No! Mr. Crackshell, please! Give me another chance!"

"No more chances, Doof..."

"Don't listen to her Doofus!"

"WHAT?" cried the wheelchair ridden Fenton, his head perking up towards the entrance through the trophy room, where the unkempt-looking Fenton stood, flanked by the three Duck brothers. "Doofus! Suit up and get them!"

"B-but... But..." He was too gone. Doofus, seeing two Fentons side by side, couldn't take the pressure and simply shut down.

"Useless!" Shouted Wheelchair Fenton, reaching down into the cusion, pulling out an automatic pistol and pointing it towards Doofus. He pulled the trigger and with a bang, Doofus fell to the ground in a heap.

"Doofus!" cried Fenton and the Duck brothers, stepping towards the bleeding out former Junior Woodchuck. The click of the gun stopped them.

"Not another sssssstep," Said the voice of the fake Fenton, decidedly more reptilian and feminine than before, "Or you'll join him."

"I thought there was something phony about what the boys told me about Doofus. That sweet kid could never think of doing anything like what he did."

"Very good, Fenton Cracksssssshell. But how do you intend to ssssstop me?" He stood, lifting himself out of the chair effortlessly, letting the long, reptilian tail unfurl behind him.

"Wha?" said Louie, as the false Fenton seemed to melt away, being replaced by another Duck entirely, one that was older, and with decidedly reptilian features.

"Who are you?" asked Huey.

"Camille Chameleon," answered Fenton, his arms crossed, "An enemy of Darkwing's from way back. I see you've recovered from your stay in Bedlam."

"Funny." She began to touch herself, "Oh! It feels ssssssso good to be back in my own body, with my own voicssssse. Keeping up your form to sssssso long wasss difficult even with your genetic material helping me along."

"So that's why you needed me alive," said Fenton, "You needed my blood so you could act like me, and control poor Doofus."

"Farid Kagan paid very well for this gig, and hell if you're going to stop me."

She began to pull the trigger, but a small sling had flown from Louie's hands, knocking the bullet off course and the gun out of her hands.


"Give up?"

She looked stunned, for a moment, before smiling, "Of course not, Fenton. I can defeat you with a taste of your own medicine," She then began to yell, "Blathering Bl-"

"Blatheskite!" cried Fenton before she could finish. The whirlwind surrounded him for a moment, before Gizmoduck the first was suddenly there, rolling quickly towards Camille. Not even bothering with a gizmo, Gizmoduck simply punched her in the chest, sending her flying backwards into her own computer console. The three boys looked on in morbid fascination as the supervillain screamed, sparks arcing around her body as she was fried by the electrical current running through the powerful computer causing her shape-changing to go wild. A Large, burly man, a stool, a little girl, Darkwing Duck the first, Fenton Crackshell, Huey, Doofus, Farid Kagan. Soon, she was still, reverting back to her original form.

The boys were silent for a while, before Gizmoduck wordlessly picked up Doofus, looking at the misguided man.

"He's still breathing. The bullet went straight through." He smiled, trying to joke away the guilt, "It's a good thing she wasn't me. I'm a much better shot."


"He's waking up!" cried a girl's voice. A very familiar voice.


"Yes, Doofus, it's me."

Doofus was lying, stretched out in the back of an airplane, the boy's plane, the Sea Duck. He looked around, seeing everyone around him, including...

"Mr. Crackshell, what happened?"

"We were being used, Doofus," he said, sitting, holding his young protégé's hand as he looked up at all the concerned faces weakly.

"Oh. Oh, Mr. Crackshell! I've done some terrible things for... for that fake! I'm a disgrace! I don't deserve the title of Gizmoduck! I... I..."

"Shhh. My boy. You don't have to feel guilty. It wasn't your fault."

"But I..."

"Be quiet. Sleep," insisted Webby. "We'll talk more after you rest." She waved off all of the concerned faces, leaving only Webby in his vision.

"Webby. It's been years since we..."

"...yes, I know, Doofus." She wet a cold compress and applied it to his head. As she did this, he reached up with his hand, placing it over hers.

This was all Dewey could stand to watch before he drowned out the fresh memory with business, "Fenton. Now that we've cleaned up your loose end, I'd like us to get down to business. Are you game?"

"Sure thing my boy," he said, letting himself be lead towards the binder. Letting his numerical juices flow after years of atrophy, Fenton rubbed his hands together and took up the Binder and a pencil, going page by page, adding, subtracting, winding his way through the mathematical maze set up by Farid Kagan's best men. "This won't take any time at all."

"Where to, Dewey?" asked Huey.

Dewey nodded, his resolve steeling his face even as the memory of Doofus stealing a touch from Webby crowded in on his mind. "S.H.U.S.H central command. Saint Canard."

Louie smiled, his injuries, though still aching, allowing him to get around enough to be useful, "I can feel it, men! We're home free. This is it. We're finally going to stick it to that bastard!"

"I hope you're right," said Dewey, as the Sea Duck flew on towards Audubon Bay and Saint Canard.

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