Wednesday, July 15, 2009

Ducktales: Twenty Years Later - Episode 20

We have reached the Twenties! Hooray!

Lets see. If I stay on track (And don't run chapters together or break them apart or what have you) There are... three more to go. Wow. We've gotten far. It's the FINAL COUNTDOWN.

Thanks for reading this silly fanon-wank story. I'm sure I'll say it many times over the next three chapters, but I do mean it. If you want, spread the word, start a page on TVtropes or something.

Anyway, the most important part: Enjoy yourself.


Episode 20:

The Iron Vulture had, in its Port side near the top, a guest quarter of some luxury. Florid tapestries and curtains hung around the room, gilt with inlays of silver and gold in flowering vine patterns that warmed the room when in the presence of natural lighting. Urns and pots from china and India were laid about and kept fresh with flowers and plants to keep the room friendly. The walls were burgundy, and each of the three rooms available had a huge four-poster bed which matched the walls impeccably. Everything in the rooms had the feeling of some age and history, but was well-taken care of.

Louie had taken the rich red curtains down from the top crossbar of the four-poster, and had begun doing chin-ups. Dewey was sitting at a stained Oak drawing table with carved patterns on the sides and drawers, and was doing some calculations on a sheet of stationary that was provided with the room. Huey paced the gold-threaded carpet, looking utterly perturbed.

Dewey, without looking up from his calculations of how much money they have spent on this little excursion, with little lumps in his throat forming when he looked at how much they have spent on gas for the sea duck so far, said, annoyed, "Huey, You're making me nervous. Sit down."

"I don't like it," was the reply.

"You can dislike it while standing in one place... or sitting. Sitting is wonderful."

"Here we are, after running for our lives for over a year and now we've just given ourselves to the guys chasing us..."

"ONE of the guys chasing us. They guys who, if they had caught us, wouldn't have killed us." Dewey looked up. "And what's the big deal? They said they're investigating Farid. They'll find us innocent and we can go on with our..."

"IF they find us innocent. It is still very possible they might not find what they're looking for, or Farid covered his tracks too well."

"You worry too much, Huey."

"I think I'm entitled to some worry, frankly. We're prisoners here..."

"It's a lovely room," said Dewey, "Commodore Kid said it's for statesmen and other guests who come through. We're lucky we're not back in the brig."

"It's a cage all the same," Huey rebuked as he flung himself into a wine-colored armchair, "And we walked right into it."

Louie landed on the ground with a thump, sweat beading on his forehead. He took a sodden towel from the nightstand and wiped himself down. "For what it's worth, Huey's got a point."

"Not you too!"

"It is a cage. It's a very nice cage, but we're still trapped with the SIL. However," He turned towards Huey and smiled, "You shouldn't worry like that."

"And why not?"

"Darkwing, of course. I trust Darkwing to come through for us." He nodded with some finality. "End of story." After speaking this he laid himself out on the bed, stretching the burn out of his muscles, "So, Dewey, what's the damage?"


Huey picked up the meaning. "How much have we spent?"

"Oh! Er." He turned back towards his figures and furrowed his brow. "About ten thousand for airplane fuel, Nearly five hundred thousand in losses from the Bed and Breakfast..."

"You've still got the money from the till, right?" asked Louie, "How much was that?"

"About two million cruzeiro."

"And in American?"

"About ten bucks, and falling." He sighed and continued, "Food for the little revolving door crew... Including that steak dinner AND the bottle of scotch... came to about fifteen thousand dollars. Clothes, repairs for the sea duck, miscellaneous expenses (including gifts and other such luxuries from you to those silly girls, Huey)... This all comes to..."

"Skip it," said Huey, "I don't want to know."

"We're very grateful that you're footing the bill for this little expedition, Huey," said Louie, "It's very nice of you."

"Aw, quiet. I know I've still got close to a septuplepillion thousand centrifugillion left, but still... You should know how losing a chunk that big can affect someone."

" Dewey, maybe, but not you Huey. I thought you were cooler about money."

"I am! I mean... at least... Well, I think it's just a lot of money to lose at once, y'know?"

Louie smiled. Dewey smiled. Neither one could ever comprehend the reason for the other's amusement.

Huey threw his hands up, "Moving along. I still think we should be careful around that Kid guy. I don't trust a guy who is that much into the law."

"Huey. I'm a superhero."

"And illegal superhero, remember. I'm just saying anyone who is that way creepily into the law won't hesitate to turn on us if things don't go our wa..."

But before he could finish speaking, the entire room shook violently. Dewey's chair turned over, spilling him and his money notes on the floor, while Huey and Louie threw themselves to the floor as a simple safety precaution. When the shaking subsided, Louie nearly screamed.

"What was that?"

Huey, however, was already up on his feet, "Come on!" he yelled, before he slammed the door to their room open and ran out. Very soon, he was followed by Dewey and Louie, who didn't bother getting into costume.


Through the air in flew, in defiance of gravity and sense, a giant, bulbous iron balloon, a Zeppelin, which ran at the top, the scarlet tones of the Thembrian flag.

The Bridge of the Iron vulture was in an uproar. Perry Kid sat in the center, a rock among tangled white rapids, as his men ran about, operating consoles and relaying information about the Iron Vulture, the Thembrians, their current strength, their opponent's strength, and the specs of the giant balloon in front of them.

The Commodore held a handheld up to his mouth and began to speak in authoritative tones, his eyes frozen on the quickly approaching Thembrian airship, "Thembrians. You have opened fire upon an SIL craft, and by extension, a S.H.U.S.H-sponsored craft in international air. This could be considered an act of war. I will give you a moment to explain yourselves or surrender. If you do not comply we will blow you out of the sky."

He then listened for some answering noise over the radio, willing them to respond. Soon enough, a Thembrian answered.

"Our fearless leader requires that you surrender Dewey Duck and his entourage. If you do not comply, we will be forced to take them from you by force."

"I order the compliances here, bub. Dewey Duck is in S.H.U.S.H custody. You cannot have him, yes?"

"And he is what we were ordered to collect. Submit or die." There was a rough clicking noise and the line went dead.

The Commodore placed a hand on his forehead, "Oy. These Iron curtain jockeys vex me so. Why is it they cannot act like sane people?"

"It's their society," said a voice behind him, "They believe we're inferior thanks to our different ideologies. Things like that don't fit neatly into that little thing called international law."

A hundred guns were trained on Huey and his brothers as they entered the bridge.

"What are you doing here?" cried Kid, "Get back to your quarters."

"And miss all the action? I think not. We're on this ship, There are women and wounded upstairs, and my employer's potentially very expensive vintage plane is in the hangar. I think we have a right to make sure it gets through this little incident all right."

Pointing a wild finger towards the exit, Perry Kid was about to scream for his men to run them out of the bridge, when a voice lanced through his radio.

"Time is up, dogs! Do you comply or do we take them by force?"

Perry kid looked at the radio with an unhinged look in his eyes, before picking the reciever up in one hand while gesturing for the boys to sit in the corner. "We do no such thing." He slammed the receiver down before screaming, "Aim all guns for the Red Thunder. Fire at will!"

A gunshot rang out, before a man in an SIL uniform ran out of the room screaming, being chased by the thick Rand, holding a musket. The Commodore sighed, and wondered if the sky pirates ever had to deal with idiot crewmen. Huey couldn't help but smirk.


The Zeppelin, the Red Thunder, was a vehicle of East German design which had become widely used in the ever important sky by soviet and soviet-allied military. The modern touch of the vehicle, including new bits added on since the 1940s, made for a terror of the sky. A maneuverable fortress of the sky to rival the airships of the sky pirates used back in the golden day, and for a fraction of the fuel and resources.

The two giants of engineering triumph met in the sky over the Atlantic Ocean a little past noon. The first shot was fired from the great cannons attached to the Red Thunder's side and struck the hull of the Iron Vulture. From there, the two titans entered into a dogfight of legend, the bodies of the two airships circling 'round each other, over and under, trying to gain the superior position. Meanwhile, around their heads buzzed flocks of fighter jets spinning and whirling around their mother ships like lazy flies, firing at one another, and trying to wrest the advantage away from their opponent.

War over the Atlantic raged on well into the day. Wrecks ignited in the air, and fell to the sea like confused fireworks, exploding as they neared the green and blue sea, or smashing into the waves, the force of the blast contributing height and impact to the splash.

Within, the two commanders screamed orders at their men, ordering more, less, forwards, up, down, thinking in a million directions at once for the good of their survival, ideals and ideas and demands flying out the window as the two forces tried to repel and destroy the other.

Eventually, the limited manpower of the Iron Vulture, meant for skirmishes with smugglers and not formal war, began to give out. The jets that were left had to do more with less power, luring the Thembrian airplanes into the paths of the Vulture or Red Thunder's guns, or leading them to ruin by smashing into the sides of one of their parent ships. They fought valiantly, but struggled against the fully armed might of a strong military might wielded efficiently.


The hours had flown by, and the boys were worried. They looked on from their corner of the bridge, looking helpless as the Thembrian contingent bore down, trying to get at them.

"What do they want?" asked Louie.

"They probably heard about your little stunt with Magica Despell," said Huey, smirking, to Dewey, "I wouldn't put it past them."

"Ugh," shivered Dewey, remembering the event. He quickly changed the subject, "What if...? What if they get in?"

"Then..." Huey stretch his arms lightly, and Louie unconsciously adjusted the belt he wore under his clothes. "...We fight them off."

In a frenzy, Perry Kid was standing on his captain's chair and railing at him men. Rage had made him forget his own head and he spoke in mannered, but still angry, Spanish. Huey walked up purposefully.

"You're getting slaughtered out there, Junior."

"And what would you know you Infamous ingrate? I oughta throw you three in the brig just for lookin' at me funny, yes no?"

"I know the air. You're playing right into their hands. Those new zeppelins rely on their large capacity for fighters to protect them while they bombard their targets. You can't fight off their numbers by yourself, not with this disorganized crew."

"My crew is being none of your business Duck!"

"You have to retreat. Cut your losses. Keep us out of danger."

"I will do no such thing! The SIL does not bow to terrorists!"

Their faces had gotten closer and closer as the two men yelled at each other, until another impact on the stern of the Iron Vulture caused Perry Kid to fall over on top of Huey. Interpreting this as a threat, Huey began to fight the wildly flailing coyote, until both were a rolling dust cloud of fists and legs. Soon, the crewmen known as Ein had grabbed his Commodore, sporting a burning black eye, while Louie and Dewey had grabbed Huey, whose face was simply burning red.

"Attack ME will you? Fine!" Huey screamed, "I'll show you. I'll show you how a real man fights off an enemy."

He shrugged off his two brothers - quite hard as well, causing them to fall over on their behinds- and walked out of the bridge.

"Where are you going you silly duck?" Kid yelled.

"You're see!"

After a few moments, and a couple more impacts, the Commodore got his mind right. "Damage report!"

"20% damage. One engine disabled."

He nodded, extricating himself from Ein's grip, "Fine. If that rage-blind idiot can show such initiative, then someone with the full force of right should have no problem..."

"Commodore!" yelled a small Chihuahua dog with a pronounced lisp, "There's a commotion in the hangar!"


Dewey and Louie sighed.


"Final Squadrons, ten and eleven, prepare for take-off!"

The Scottie dog with an eyepatch yelled towards the two three-man teams of fighter planes lining up to take off. With his limited peripheral vision, he wasn't able to see the whit fist coming at him from the red-faced duck. He fell to the ground a yard away, knocked out.

There was a commotion as several men opened fire on the duck, who ran towards the closest Jet, painted like a many-toothed monster. The men were ordered to stop firing, not wanting to damage the precious planes. The pilot, however, hadn't heard he order.

Huey climbed up to look at the helmeted pilot , who threw his canopy open and drew a service pistol. Thinking quick, Huey kicked the man's hand, before punching him soundly in the face. Soon, the man's body, stripped of his breathing apparatus and helmet seated firmly on Huey's head, was tossed over the side of the plane like so many bags of potatoes.

"Alright you!" cried Huey into the radio, "Watch and learn!"

"Listen y- URK!" said the voice of the Commodore, cut off.

Louie's voice cut in, "Huey. Do you even know how to pilot one of those things?"

"Uncle Sam wanted me to. Let's see if he was right." He then started it up, ignoring plainly many of the instruments, and relying on his own instincts. The engines roared to life, and his jet sped forward towards the wide open mouth of the Iron Vulture, and into the bright blue of the sky, stained black by clouds of smoke. Huey's back sank into the seat of the jet as his hands kept a steady grip on the control stick. He screamed at the G-forces, not out of weakness, but from sheer willfulness.

Faster than the eye could see the jet was out of the airship's dock and in the air, whirring around, pulling loops around the other, saner planes. There seemed to be some kind of spirit in the plane that caused it to move with almost presentimental grace. It approached the encroaching hoard of Thembrian planes, similar, but so slightly different from it. They fired, which the plane corked and twisted around in the air to avoid, before returning fire. A plane burst into flames from the precise shot, and the rest of the swarm turned away at once, creating a ripple of airplanes out from the exploding one.

Huey gave a yell, not hearing the Commodore scream back at him to turn his radio off to spare them all the fruits of his rage, and chased after the nearest plane. The Tightly packed thembrians seemed like clumsy beetles to his graceful dragonfly. He pulled a loop, firing on several too-slow airplanes, which flared up and fell like stars.

Then they were upon him. A group of aces, three, flying in tight formation. They surrounded him, revolving around him like the orbits of an atom, and firing all the time. Huey had just enough presence of mind to ungulate his plane out of the way and cut a swath out from between the tight teamwork of the three Thembrians.

He was chased through the battle, and the consequences of his wild flying were felt throughout the battle. He swerved across groups of thembrians menacing his temporary allies with the SIL, causing the unaware aces to perforate their own kin. As the three on his tail tried to use their numbers to trap him, he would fly among a group of allies. The aces were chased off by the firing of the few SIL left, and one of them took one right in the canopy, spraying through the air a sprits of blood and glass.

Wary and wise now, the two aces followed behind Huey's plane at a safe distance, trying to outlast him while staying out of the path of his wild guns. Unmolested, Huey was able to take out several more Thembrian jets, and under his actions, the tide of battle had begun to switch.

Desperate now, one of the aces drew close to Huey, intending to end this. Huey clenched his teeth, before pulling up sharp, revealing one of the Iron Vulture's guns. The cannon fired, and the plane, in mid pull-up, was torn right in half by the harsh shell. It looped around lazily, spinning as it fell to the sea, before exploding spectacularly.

Now, one-on-one, Huey looped around behind the last remaining ace who menaced him, firing on the unlucky Thembrian. The two pilots circled 'round, trying to line each other up in their sights. The dogfight dragged on and on, circling and barreling through the air, catching lesser pilots off guard and to an early, watery grave.

Huey gave a yell, the frustration of the fight causing a vein in his forehead to fill to bursting. With a sudden burst of skill, he tipped his plane in an odd maneuver, flying on his side just enough to pass the Thembrian, who panicked and pulled downwards. Huey then pulled up sharply, looping up and around, until the plane was facing downward again, and was lined up right behind the ace. With a single burst of his guns, he sent the last of his ammo into the jet engines of the Thembrian plane, and the entire thing combusted. Huey pulled up before his own nose could be caught in the leaping flames.

He then turned his sights towards the huge, momentarily unprotected Red Thunder zeppelin. He fired, but found that he had exhausted his ammo during the fight. FINE!

He hit the boosters, the throttles, the retros, the whatever-they-were-calleds, and speeded on towards the huge airship. He aimed for the panels in the Iron casing of the balloon that held the monster up, and braced himself for impact.



Watching from the open mouth of the Iron Vulture, the girls, Huey's brothers, Webby and Doofus, and the Commodore watched the jet fly into the oblong target and explode. All at once, the volatile gasses inside combusted, and in a moment, the panels of the balloon were expelled out, dropping into the sea. The Red Thunder was, for a moment, alight in fire, before it was merely an empty, falling frame of its former shape. The cabins and hangar, now unsupported in the air, fell to the ground like a dull rock and broke in half with the impact of the water. They could not see beyond the lip of the Vulture without falling out of the ship, but imagining the drowning crew of the airship was terrible.

The three girls were sobbing, and calling Huey's name.

"He... he couldn't..." said Louie.

"H...Huey..." said Dewey.

Their eyes were wide in shock, looking up towards the spot on the stripped zeppelin where the Jet had crashed and exploded, until the whole skeletal thing sunk out of sight.

After a moment of stunned silence, The Commodore spoke, "Fool."

"Say that again!" Screamed Louie, grabbing the Commodore's fancy coat, "He's not the only one with anger management issues, you know."

"Such common reactions. He has given his life for mine, and I think him for that, yes? But there was certainly a better way."

"Shut up, Commodore," said Dewey, darkly, his right-hand trigger finger twitching unconsciously.

"For example, what about the Parachute?" The Commodore allowed two of his goons to pull Louie roughly off of his jacket, "He did not deploy it, yes? That could have..."

"...Saved my life?" said a voice from the radio, still breathing hard in anger.

"HUEY!" everyone yelled, crowding around the receiver of the radio, trampling the commodore underfoot, before all talking at once.

"Quiet everyone," he said, and they were silent, "I'm coming in, and I need to do something to feel better. Come to the mouth of the vulture and make sure I land safely."

With uplifted spirits, the group ran over as close to the open hangar as they could and lo-and-behold, saw the orange and blue colored SIL parachute holding up the duck, who had his arms crossed. They cheered as the Commodore walked up.

Huey caught sight of the group then, and began to clench his fists. His face was still a mask of rage, the dogfight with an entire airforce platoon not enough to sate his need. As he got closer, those who beheld him began to feel a bit like taking a few steps back.

As Huey was about a yard from the ground, he disengaged the parachute and began to fall. He drew back his fist as he flew to the group. The SIL Men, figuring him to go for the Commodore, pushed him out of the way.

With a final scream, Huey fell towards the ground.


With a single punch, Louie was laid out flat on the ground and skidded over the floor. Dazed, he rubbed his face and groaned, not understanding for a moment what had happened. It wasn't until he was picked up bodily by Huey that he remembered the events of two seconds ago.

"H... Hu..."

"Paul isn't dead! That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard of! Understand?"

"Y... Yeah..."

Louie was then dropped unceremoniously on the ground. The Commodore, still buried under a small pile of protective sky-sailors, began to rail at him.

"Where do you get off? I did not give permission to fly off like that! If you hadn't shot down the Red Thunder I would have you under a court martial right now! I would be breaking you under my knee right now, yes no?"

Huey breathed out, his blood pressure returning to normal. He turned towards the commodore, saying, "You're welcome," before walking back upstairs to his quarters.

There was a long silence, before the three girls gave a shout of joy and followed Huey off towards the upper decks. Dewey blinked, before shrugging and beginning to make conversation with the Commodore, now waving the overzealous crewmen off of himself.

"Well now, Commodore. What was that all about?"

"You three taking your sibling rivalry so seriously. Sheesh."

"No, no. I mean the Thembrians. What was that?"

"That, Mr. Duck," began the Commodore, looking at the blue clad Duck with eyes full of a dull hopelessness, "Was an act of world war, and you appear to be right in the middle of it."

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