Cool, i like Nightwing, he's so not Batman
--Hi. >waves< Sorry I've taken so long to do this. I really am. But, I'm back. I'm afraid with something rather short, but hopefully it may hold you over a bit. >shrugs< Well, Ihope you enjoy!--
'The city of St. Canard is surprisingly beautiful,' Nightwing mused as he soared from building to building shortly behind Darkwing and Launchpad. After all, it was their territory; he didn't want to intrude. He remembered how much Batman was so territorial whenever others would come into Gotham...wait. No one ever really *did* come into Gotham when he was younger. While away from Gotham, he'd heard stories from the local superheros about how frightening the Dark Knight was when he wanted to be. 'Duh,' he thought as he listened in, recently forming his new mantle, Nightwing. 'In fact, the only one,' he thought, 'that has ever dared entered into the Bat's territory is Superman.' Then again, it was *Superman* who entered Gotham--he didn't have much to fear, right?
Wrong. Nightwing knew Batman--*Bruce* well enough to know that he would never be caught unprepared for anything, and thus knew that he could and should never be underestimated. Nightwing allowed himself a slight smirk. As much as a pain Bruce/Batman was to him, he knew that he was trained by the best, and on some level that meant that he himself had to be the most worthy of his scrutiny.
Darkwing leapt down into a decrepit alley, Launchpad bounding clumsily behind him. The smirk widened to a full thousand-watt grin. If he were in such a foreign place, at least he was in good company.
Nightwing merely waited on the roof as he watched to two mallards dispense of a group of thugs crowding around an older woman. He found few things that he could critique about their fighting styles, but did notice their differences in technique--Launchpad's powerful blows compared to Darkwing's quick, agile movements, confusing his prey. Nightwing snorted to himself. 'Prey,' he thought. 'How melodramatic of me.'
He crouched down, leaping from the old brick ledge, somesaulting in the air before landing perfectly on the ground in front of the hunched woman--a perfect 10.0, if he did ask so himself.
Which--of course--he did.
The older mallard merely stared at him, frightened. If it were possible, she cowered into the wall further, trying to release herself from his large shadow. Nightwing grinned kindly. "It's alright, ma'am," he said, holding out his gauntleted hand, "I won't hurt you."
"Nightwing," Darkwing spoke behind him quietly, "you're scaring her."
He cast a non-plussed glance behind him. "Yeah, I kinda see that. I was only--"
Darkwing placed a feathered hand upon his arm, pulling him back slightly. "Trust me, 'Wingster, she ain't gonna budge," he replied somewhat sharply, walking in front of him, offering his much smaller hand to the woman. She smiled warmly, readily reaching her hand out to his and lifted herself to her feet. "Ma'am, you should be more careful around these streets."
She nodded, relieved. Looking over Darkwing's shoulder, she regarded the much larger shadow in the background. "Who is that? *What* is that?"
Nightwing scowled darkly. 'Thanks for thinking I'm a piece of meat, lady,' he sneered silently, immediately feeling guilty for thinking that. She didn't know. He was odd looking--although he'd never really call himself that. The no beak thing was probably throwing people off. Plus, in this world, he was much larger than most men--Launchpad being the obvious exception. So, the whole "tall, dark and infinitely scary" image was coming back to bite him.
Nightwing backed away from the small figure, giving her ample space to walk out of the dirty alleyway without being near enough for her to suffer a heart-attack. Her large eyes darted over to him several times before she took off in a run down the street. "Nice one," Darkwing jibed, a small smile upon his face.
"Back off, Daffy," he muttered heatedly.
Darkwing's brows furrowed in confusion, a practice becoming all too common in Nightwing's eyes. "Who?"
Nightwing felt like screaming. His *jokes* weren't even holding water here. Sighing wearily, he simply replied, "no one," firing off his jumpline into the crisp night sky.
Perplexed, both Darkwing and Launchpad quickly followed him to the rooftop. "What's with the attitude?" Darkwing questioned, attitude of his own dripping from his voice. "You *wanted* to come with us, remember?"
He stared at the foreign landscape. "I never asked to be here, thank you."
If Nightwing had eyes in the back of his head--which he was fairly certain he was beginning to grow in his line of work--he would have seen Darkwing's eyes widen with challenge. "Oh?" He asked, feigning innocence. "Then why'd you tag us along if you didn't want to, eh?"
He spun around on his heel, facing down--quite literally--the egotistical mallard. "No, you *idiot*. I never asked to be *here*, as in St. Mallard--"
"You think I care?!" Nightwing snapped. Darkwing remained stoicly silent, his bill grinding in anger. "No, I don't," he answered for him. "I don't care, nor have I *ever* cared, nor will I *ever* care for this walking petting zoo that you call St. Canard! The only reason I went with you is because I thought you'd be better company than Batman. Guess I was wrong." He turned, stepping onto the worn ledge. "I'll be back at your hideout if you want to--"
An explosion rocked the building's foundation as fire spewed from the warehouse across the street. Nightwing lost his balance and fell forward, barely having time to twist and grab the crumbling rock with questioning fingers. 'I'm good,' he thought triumphantly as he pulled himself back onto the roof--just in time for it to collapse under him. All three of them careened down through two levels of the old shop, finally landing upon a fifteen foot tall pile of rubble in a heap. Sitting up, Nightwing brushed himself off--for all the good it did. He heard a loud snap, and--looking up--saw a large piece of wall come tumbling down directly above him.
--There ya go!--
Nightwing's instincts kicked in, but did him little good, for his legs were caught under a piece of metal. He thrashed the rest of his body about, rolling his body to the side, hoping against hope that he would be out of the stone's path. The shadow loomed ever larger and just as he resigned himself to his fate, someone grunted loudly in exertion and shoved the large piece of metal off his legs. Seeing his chance, he tucked and rolled himself to the side of the mound, the stone plunging into the rubble right where his head would have been. His eyes darted to the person that saved his life--a dark shadow with a large-brimmed fedora.
'Oh don't I just feel smart?' He thought as Darkwing paced forward to him, covered in dust and debris. "Darkwing...I--"
He paced past him without acknowledgment. "Help me find Launchpad," he ordered darkly. Nightwing simply stared at him for a moment, shocked at the tone in Darkwing's voice. Even when the mallard *tried* to sound authoritarian, he was never able to pull it off until this second.
Almost pleasantly surprised that the duck had some serious oomph in him after all, he stood and followed the vigilante. They searched the small area for seemingly forever, calling his name until they heard a rumble in the stray rock and metal. Darkwing rushed over to the origin of the noise, gripping a slab and hurling it forward with hardly much effort. Nightwing stayed close at his heels, ripping wood and rock alike from the pile. "Help me with this," he growled between clenched teeth, holding an absolutely gargantuan piece of the outside wall a few inches off of the mound. He hurried to him, adding his shoulder and powerful legs. After a few moments, they both managed to flip the stone over in a loud crash. Underneath, they saw small debris and a large feathered hand, covered in grime and--'oh geez I hope that isn't...'--blood. Nightwing fought for a couple of deep breaths, whereas Darkwing dropped to his knees, digging into the pebbles, slicing his hands in the process on the wood and glass. "What are just standing there for?!" He shreiked, glaring at the vigilante before him. "*Help* me!"
Nightwing instantly joined the caped canard, pushing the shrapnel out of their way. Finally, Darkwing grabbed Launchpad's exposed arm and wrenched him from the rocks, cradling the large duck in his arms. "Launchpad?" He asked weakly. He got no response. A wave of terror swept over his face, and stared wide-eyed at Nightwing, silently pleading for him to do something.
Nightwing gulped, a primal fear of his own entering his heart. "Lay him down," he ordered quickly. Darkwing did so without hesistation. Darkwing moved out of the way as Nightwing crossed over to Launchpad's side, picking up his wrist. He felt a weak heartbeat, but it was fading fast and LP wasn't breathing. He sighed tiredly. "I've never done this on a duck before, but..."
Nightwing bent down and breathed into the duck's mouth several times, only coming back up for a breath of air. Darkwing watched in fear and morbid curiosity at what he was doing. What was he doing to him? Nightwing repeated the procedure several times, all the while Nightwing muttering, "c'mon Launchpad...c'mon...*breathe*!" Finally, to both their elation, Launchpad sucked in a deep breath, coughing violently for a moment, his body shuddering with each hack.
He lay back, exhausted, on the hard rock below him. Nightwing moved out of the way so Darkwing could be next to him. "LP?" He again asked quietly.
The monstrous duck opened his eyes half-heartedly, a small grin forming on his albatross beak. "DW...what'cha lookin' so scared for?" He pondered, his words slurring.
Darkwing laughed softly, relieved. He was going to be alright. "No reason, LP. Just trying to keep you on your toes."
Nightwing, while touched by the sentimental moment, had not forgotten how they ended up there in the first place. "I'm finding out who did this," he spoke determindedly. Before letting either reply, he had bolted out what had remained of the front doorway, ready for a fight. Another explosion rocked the ground, and he struggled to keep standing as the building beside him collapsed. He dove for the ground as metal bars and other pieces of burning shrapnel rained down from above. He gazed about, seeing someone he had not recognized. He was wearing what looked like a jester's suit, and had a psychotic grin plastered on his beak.
Reminded him of the Joker.
"Well, at least our worlds have something in common," he muttered as he darted forward across the street to the surviving building. However, the insane mallard noticed him, howled with laughter--*definately* reminded him of the Joker--and ran full speed to the back of the building. Nightwing started to pursue when he felt a strange premonition--
And heard a strange click.
He looked down, dread welling up inside of him. Lo and behold, he saw what looked like a mine beneath his foot, blinking red. It was of similar design to those used by the US Military. He scanned his memory, calm and collected, remembering that these designs were time delayed by three seconds and a large radius. However, if he pivoted the right way and fired a jumpline to the hydrant across the street--
"I suggest you not think of a way to get around the time delay of the mine, human," a voice boomed. "Because it doesn't have one."
He heard footsteps padding on the catwalk above, and craned his neck to see who it was. His brows furrowed in confusion as he eyed the duck approached him. The duck wore the exact same styled suit. However, the colors were all wrong. Instead of the entire suit being purple, the suit was yellow, the fedora was blood red, and the cape and mask were black. His physical form was exact to Darkwing's in the exception that in place of Darkwing's placid and determined face, this one had a deep hateful scowl set in, his eyes brimming with anger.
"Hm," the figure mused. "What a strange catch. I was *supposed* to get Darkwing Dork over here, but...I guess you'll have to do."
He sighed wearily. "What is it with this world? Do you guys take absolutely *everything* from movies and comics or what?"
The mallard mearly smiled menacingly. "I don't know. I've never been to your world--I don't even belong in ths one. But, I know one thing--you'll never see *your* world again!" He chuckled to himself before pressing a button he held in his grasp--which looked familiar to him, oddly enough...
All of the doors slammed shut with thick iron bars and the doors were sealed with large steel slabs. Nightwing quirked an eyebrow sardonically at this turn of events. "Yeah, Sherlock, way to go," he shouted over to the mystery duck. "You've locked me in. Question is, now how are *you* going to get out?"
The mallard pondered for a moment. "The same way I got in. If you're smart, you'll get out of here." He flipped another switch, and a big red timer appeared on the wall. "Now you have...ten minutes to figure out how." He pivoted, heading towards the door at the far end. Casting a side-long glance to the human on the bomb, he then boomed, "and by the way, my name's not Sherlock...it's Negaduck." With that, he mock-saluted him and ran down the platform.
--There ya go!--
Last edited by SilverKnight; 05-09-2001 at 04:07 PM.
--Nice *long* post...he he...--
'Okay, Boy Wonder, you have ten minutes to figure out how to get yourself out of here *alive* without setting off the mine or who knows what other booby traps that are lying around here.
'Gimmie a challenge, why don'tcha? Geez.'
Pulling out binoculars as carefully as possible from his gauntlet, he surveyed his surrounding area. Each and every thick plate blocking his exit were covered with a myriad of wires. They were going under and out the plates to somewhere. The bright red numbers then caught his eyes and he prioritized. He put the binoculars away, finding no other use for them.
He glared at the mine beneath his boot, giving it the utmost scrutiny. He noticed a thin wire leading from the bottom of the bomb, leading underneath a heavy metallic door. A bright sign marked EXIT flashed on above. 'Alright,' he pondered. 'I've seen this a thousand times before. I get off the mine, I blow up. I cut the wire, I blow up. I go through any of the doors, I blow up.' He searched for anything near him that could be even remotely his weight. Nothing. "Or I could just scream my brains out until someone hears me."
His ears pricked up as he heard light padding of footsteps down the catwalk. His eyes narrowed, annoyed. This guy *really* didn't know when to shut up. Another similarity with Darkwing. "Y'know, hanging around when a *bomb's* ready to explode just to see your handy work is a little extreme, don't you think?" He roared, sarcasm dripping from his voice, expecting to see...*whatever* his name was--Megaduck or something. A small silhouette crossed over the catwalk with lightning speed.
The figure smiled, saluting. "Miss me?"
He was *not* expecting to see that.
He nearly choked on his own tongue, he was so shocked. He barely was able to sputter, "...*Goslyn*??"
She bounded down the steps, holding out her miniture bow and arrow, eyeing him confidently. "That's 'Quiverwing Quack' to you."
"What are you *doing* here, Goslyn?" He hissed. "Get Darkwing over here to help me!"
She shook her head. "He wouldn't fit through the space I had to get in here from."
His brows shot up in anticipation. "You know where--whatshisface left from?"
Again, she shook her head, her small green hat bobbing from one side to another. "I slipped in here right before he locked us in--"
"*US*?!" Nightwing shouted. Now he knew how Bruce felt. "Geez, Gos, are you nuts?"
She crossed her arms over her chest. "This coming from someone who wears spandex? Face the facts, Wingster. I'm all you got right now."
He rolled his eyes in defeat. "Even in another *dimension* I can't get rid of that nickname..."
Her brilliant smiled faded. "Yeah, well you're new nickname's gonna be 'John Doe' if we don't get you out here in..." She looked at the countdown. "Crap...8 minutes."
Nightwing flashed his usual 1000-watt grin. "Time to spare," he boasted. "You see, I kinda have a *mine* under my foot right now--"
"Yeah, I saw," she replied hastily her eyes darting around. She was looking for something large enough that could serve as a weight, yet light enough that she could carry over to him. "That's not your only problem--"
"Well, one problem at a time, okay?" He snapped, his body tensing. "Gos, I can't help you here. I move an inch any which way and we all go kaboom."
"I get it, I get it..." She muttered, annoyed, looking for crates, weights, *anything*! However, the warehouse was barren of anything she was capable of carrying that weighed more than a few ounces. Turning back to him in frustration, she simply shrugged.
7 minutes. He sighed wearily. "Great." He looked down, desperate and resigned. "Gos, find a way out of here. I'll disarm this thing."
Her cerulean blue eyes widened. "What? I thought you said an inch any way and it would blow?"
"I'll risk it."
She put her hands on her hips. "Not while I'm here, you won't." Nightwing only gazed at her, expectant. "Look, you're smart, I'm a fast learner. You tell me what to do, and I'll do it."
Nightwing bit back a growl, grinding his jaw. He wasn't going to win this fight, he saw. And with a mine under his foot, he really didn't have much time to argue the point. "Alright," he acquiesced. 6 minutes. Pulling a small screwdriver and a pair of wire clippers, he carefully handed them to the small child in front of him. "Don't blow me up, okay?"
A confident smile spread across her face. "Promise." She knelt down to the small mine below his foot, immediately noticing something. "Hey, this is wierd."
"Yeah," he agreed quickly. "You probably haven't seen the design before--"
"No, the light," she simpered. "It isn't blinking."
"Look," she said, staring up at him. He did so, and she was right. It fact, not only was it not blinking, it wasn't even *on*. While he pondered this, Goslyn took action. "Hey, that must mean it's not armed."
"No, it *is*--"
"Cool beans!" She squeaked, not hearing him, grabbing at the small cord on the side.
Nightwing stood frozen, his eyes slowly opening.
Not even an evil little laugh track.
He looked around. The counter was now off, as well. Forcing himself to breathe again, he slowly backed off the mine, his entire body tensed. Nothing happened. Nightwing sighed deeply, relaxing somewhat. Goslyn, smile plastered across her beak, only grinned wider at the look on his face. "Told ya so."
"Yeah, ya did," he agreed. Grabbing Goslyn by the arms, he wrenched her forward as he dashed up the stairs. "Now let's get the heck outta dodge--"
They both froze. He turned around, seeing the light on the mine blinking even faster. The counter flashed on again, this time at one minute. Nightwing and Goslyn both looked at eachother, and darted down the catwalk. 55 seconds.
They turned a corner, finding several different hallways. "How'd Negadork get outta here?"
"The same way he got in, he said." He huffed, looking down a corridor. "That mean anything to you?"
"Yeah. We're dead." 45 seconds.
A thought struck him. "Not yet..." he muttered, dragging the small child along with him. 40 seconds.
The Quiverwing Quack in tow, Nightwing bounded through the maze of corridors, eyes wildly searching for something. "What'd you mean when you said the mine wasn't my only problem?" He asked quickly, vaulting over a small crate.
"Because there's a dumpster full of explosives at the side of the building."
"Oh just *wonderful*." 25 seconds.
He rounded a corner, finding a huge mainframe of computers. The security station. Goslyn looked at him like he was insane. "What better lookout would there be than here?" 20 seconds.
His eyes darted from screen to screen, looking for some exit, some way out, a window, a hole--
"You *gotta* be kiddin' me." 17 seconds.
The front door was wide open.
Nightwing picked up Goslyn, holding her like a football as he bolted down the stretch of the corridor. "Idiot," he told himself. "I was at the *back* door, not the front!" 13 seconds.
He leapt over the edge of the catwalk, (9 seconds) grabbing a chain nearby, (7 seconds) swinging down to the stone ground of the old warehouse; (4 seconds) making a mad dash for the front door.
Nightwing's legs pumped furiously as he ran from the front door, holding Goslyn protectively in front of him when a wave of fire sent him soaring into a heap of trash across the street. Panting, Nightwing stood shakily, relieved that they lived through the ordeal. However, Goslyn wasn't so sure. "Wingster..." She squwaked, squirming out of his grasp, eyes wide with terror. "Heads up!"
He looked up, seeing giant pieces of stone and wood falling from the sky in a fiery ardor. Again, he grabbed Goslyn, pulling her up into his grasp. But Goslyn shoved herself out of his vice grip, choosing to run her own way as the debris fell. He shot forward into the small alley, attempting to get some of the building's cover.
No such luck.
He felt his whole world get white hot, and he careening into the ground. He struggled to fight the pain and the fatigue, but lost out. The bright heat gave way to cold darkness as he slipped into unconsciousness.
The journey back to consciousness was not a pleasant one. The first sense that came back to him was his sense of touch. They usually said it was the first to go, but they had, in truth, put it backwards. While he could move nothing of his own will, he could acutely feel the scorching tendrils that made up the burns he had received during his little flight.
However, the only thing he *could* feel was pain. He wasn't aware of his former mentor performing CPR on him, desperately trying to revive him. He couldn't feel the man's hands shaking ever so slightly as he held his head still. Needless to say, he couldn't feel the quiet fear eminate from him so strongly it was practically tangible. Soon, though, he *did* begin to feel the interesting sensation that was lifelessness leave him. The sense of touch began to reinforce itself, and the pain no longer felt so insurmountible.
The fog enshrouding him began to lift very slowly. It burned away from his limbs, allowing the many nerve endings to see and connect once again. However, a thick soup of the fog still remained, clumped into an inaccesible area at the moment. A gust of wind surged through the thick, stagnant air, disturbing the soup. It fluttered around, shifted above and below, but in the end, it reformed where it once had been. The situation repeated itself for several moments before he felt the edges of the fog begin to burn away. The soup started bubbling, steaming, hissing in defiance as the wind burst through. It was working, though. The fog began to dissipate from the outside in, trapping what was left to its doom. In the wake of the fog, the emptyness was soon filled with feeling--
The fog fully clear, he felt the cold cement through the kevlar. He felt the slightly trembling hands on his face, holding his mouth open. He felt the refreshing air fill his lungs, the burning subsiding momentarily. Breathing.
He needed to breathe.
With what stength he had, he jerked himself over to his side, making his lungs move. The air rushing into his lungs was the most beautiful feeling in the world at that second in time. However, city air--no matter whether it was Gotham or St. Canard--was hardly clean, and summarily was not very kind to deprived lungs. He forced the air out as quickly as it came in, his entire body shuddering from the strength behind them. Soon, though, his breathing returned to normal, relishing the ability to do so.
The movement made--however small--was quite a workout for someone that had no energy-replenishing oxygen in their blood, and Nightwing--propped up on one arm--collapsed backwards. Instead of being reclaimed by the icy grip of the grim reaper below, as he expected, his fall was broken by two powerful--yet much more forgiving--arms. He found being cradled by these arms surprisingly comforting, the man's deep baritone voice vibrating in his chest a calming background thrum. He instantly relaxed, languidly drifting off into unconsciousness.
His head hurt immensely. His eyelids felt like they were glued together. His entire body was stiff and sore to no end.
Figures this is how he would wake up.
He moaned, turning on his side. Which didn't help the dull throbbing at all. Biting back an expletive, he forced his eyes semi-open, bringing a hand up to his face. Gingerly rubbing his eyes, he quickly felt the contrast of his normally smooth skin to the dry rough skin that had been singed.
He bolted up, instantly regretting the sudden movement. His eyes searched the darkened room wildly, trying to remember what was going on. A dark shadow detached itself from the wall, walking up to him. "Calm down, Dick," he murmured, putting a hand on his shoulder softly. "It's alright." Nightwing's memory slowly returning, he laid back upon the makeshift bed. "Do you remember what happened?"
He thought for a moment. Nothing like a near-death experience to fog up your mind. He blinked, and nodded. Batman opened his mouth to speak, but Nightwing cut him off. "Before you criticize me," he began hoarsely, "I did what I had to."
Much to his surprise, Batman merely nodded in agreement. Turning away, he replied, "I was going to say you did well." Stalking back over to the computer in Darkwing's lair, he replaced the stern mask over his face. "Are you fit to walk?"
"Yeah," he scoffed, standing. He stretched, working out the kinks of being tossed around like a rag doll. "I've been through worse." Shifting his gaze from the Dark Knight's back, he quickly found his mask upon the floor next to the bed. A nagging feeling began creeping through the back of his mind, but he couldn't place the exact memory behind it. Putting it back on his face, he sauntered over to Batman, his eyes taking in the darkened room. Suddenly, it dawned on him.
They were alone.
"Where are Darkwing and the others?" He questioned to the crouched over form of the Batman.
Not turning, Batman replied, "Launchpad will be fine."
"That's not what I asked," he muttered, crossing his arms over his chest. "I asked where they were."
Batman cast a quarter glance over his shoulder, his eyebrow arched. "They're at the hospital at the moment." Looking back into the microscope, he added sardonically, "where did you *expect* them to be?"
"It was a simple question, Bruce," he snapped. "You don't have to be smart about it."
The shadow shrugged half-heartedly. "I learned from the best."
Scowling, he shook his head, dropping the subject. Right now he was too tired to argue. "So, what'd you find out about that bullet?"
Without a word, his former mentor handed him a sheet of paper over his shoulder. His frown deepening, he snatched the paper from the gauntleted hand, reading it. As his eyes traveled down the short explanation, they increasingly widened. He whistled, putting the sheet down. "Whoa, that is some bullet."
"It gets worse," Bruce answered enigmatically. He crossed the room, pulling out the experimental rifle from under a computer terminal. "After finding out what was inside this, I decided to take a trip back to the warehouse, to find out how this bullet this volitile can be honestly used." He sighed tiredly. "On the way back, I saw the fires from the explosion. I saw Launchpad being loaded into the ambulance. Goslyn then flagged me down and led me to you. She went with Darkwing as I brought you back here." He placed the long rifle on the table, picking up the small bullet. "While you were recuperating, I analyzed the rifle and took another look at the bullet."
"But you already knew what was in the bullet," Nightwing replied, his curiousity piqued.
He nodded, turning the bullet over in his hands. "Not what was in the bullet, but what it was made of." Handing the bullet over to Nightwing again, the former boy wonder stared at the small shell. He noticed nothing out of the ordinary with the bullet's casing... 'Sometimes I think he purposely leaves me hanging just to annoy me,' he mused as the Dark Knight began to speak. "I found something very interesting about both, as well." Batman hefted the gun, his eyes locked on the shining barrel. "I've read military reports where they use magnetic forces in replace for gunpowder."
He blinked in surprise. "You mean like they do with certain rollercoasters?" Batman merely stared at him, not comprehending. Nightwing smirked triumphantly. "You mean, there's something the mighty Batman doesn't know?" The Caped Crusader scowled, fuel to his fire. "For some rollercoasters they use polarized magnets to propell cars up to speeds of 100 mph in a matter of seconds. Magnets on the rails are magnetized to all north, while the magnets on the cars are split in half--north and south. As the magnets near, the south section of the magnet pulls them forward, and as the car passes, the north section of the magnet pushes them away at a faster speed. Is that similar to this?"
Batman sighed wearily. "If you must relate the two, yes." He grabbed a small compass from the table. "I found that the bullet has a very thin layer of polarized metal upon it. The barrel also has the layer, but in measured strips." Putting it next to the bullet, Nightwing watched as the arrow--which had been pointing north--suddenly spun around wildly. "The front half of bullet's casing has been polarized to the south, the other to the north. Can you guess how the barrel is polarized?"
"But wait," Nightwing interrupted, brows knitted. "If they're polarized, then why doesn't the bullet move early?"
"It's electromagnetized," Batman explained, hefting the rifle in his hands.
"So," he started, looking at the rifle, "when you press the trigger, you're basically turning on the power." Batman nodded, hitting a small button on the side of the ebony weapon. A small box popped from the side that fit in the palm of his hand. "A clip?" Nightwing asked, thorougly confused. "That's not possible."
"How do you figure?"
"Well," he began, studying the small rectangle in the Dark Knight's gloved hand, "you said the bullet fires because the chamber and bullet are magnetized, right?" He nodded. "And the bullet propells forth due to the polarized sides, right?" He repeated the gesture. "How does an electromagnetic current move the bullet into the chamber without magnetizing the whole gun?"
"The chamber of this gun is different from traditional guns," he replied, holding the gun at port arms. "First off, that's not a clip, it's exactly what it looks like; a small ammo box. You load the bullet by hand, much like any other rifle." He pulled a small lever near the sight, opening the chamber for a bullet. "When you put a bullet in and close the chamber, a small piece of non-magnetized steel is pressed up against it. It's when you pull the trigger, a small burst of electricity jolts through that small plate."
"But, then wouldn't the metal *attract* the bullet?"
"Not when the bullet is polarized," he shot back.
Nightwing sighed, marveling at the dangers of technology. "Is this for real? I mean, is this *proven*?"
Batman shook his head. Finally. A glimmer of hope. "It's in theory."
"No, *LexCorp's* theory." Nightwing arched his eyebrow, waiting for him to answer. "I remembered most of these details when I planned the deal with LexCorp a few months ago. He *insisted* I read the specs of his new weapons, to prove to me his company had the superior technological capabilities and we'd make excellent partners," he detailed, finishing his sentence off with a scowl. "It was only a spec when I saw it last."
"Looks like someone gave it the go-ahead," Nightwing quipped, putting the bullet down upon the table. "This would be one major sniper weapon."
Batman placed the gun on the desk, a disgusted look upon his face. "I doubt this was made for a sniper at all. I believe this was made as the ultimate infantry killer. Think about it. Caesium is highly explosive when mixed with water. When I examined that seal, I figured that only a small amount of pressure would break it, like hitting the ground. So, even if you *miss* your target, the seal will break anyway, killing them. And if it *does* hit your target--"
"There wouldn't be anything left but goo to scrape off the walls," he finished.
"Exactly," Batman agreed, typing something into the computer. "Who was the one you saw at the explosions?"
Nightwing shrugged, looking at the monitor, placing his hand on Batman's mighty shoulder. "I remember Goslyn calling him 'Negadork', but somehow I doubt that's what he'd call himself."
Several file photos flashed on the screen, along with a "biography", a police criminal record, and Darkwing's personal logs--which both Batman and Nightwing skimmed over, hardly believing a word of it. "He looked almost exactly like Darkwing...just more demonic," he muttered quietly, staring at mugshot after mugshot. The Dark Knight cast a bemused glance over his shoulder to his former protege. He returned the gaze with a mock-glare. "No, Darkwing *isn't* rubbing off on me. He really *did* look like a demonic Darkwing--"
"Negaduck," a throaty voice rumbled. Nightwing whipped around to see who it was, while he felt Batman's shoulders tense under his fingers.
The 1000-watt grin that was tugging at his lips the moment he heard the voice spread across his face when looking into the deep green eyes. "Good evening, Morgana." If it were possible, the man in the seat tensed further. 'Don't pull something, Bruce,' he jibed silently, leaning on the counter yet again. "How are you doing?"
She sighed, swishing up to the large chair. "Better, now that I know that dear Launchpad will recover." She dropped her gaze to the deathly still form. "Hello, Batman."
He set his jaw, staring defiantly at the screen, typing in the name "negaduck". Nightwing's grin only widened, stifling a chuckle. "That's Bat-talk for 'hello'."
The gander smiled sweetly, her eyes straying to the profile on the screen. "Negaduck," she growled again. "Oh, how he and my Dark have fought! I couldn't tell you how many times that duck has nearly killed his, Lauchpad's, and the entire city of St. Canard's life!"
"Try us," Batman finally spoke, swiveling the chair to face her. "Tell us his M.O."
She shrugged half-heartedly. "His M.O. seems to be whatever irks Dark. That and the general maniacal thrill of murder and such, perhaps," she added with a humorless smirk.
"How about blowing up some of Gander street?" Nightwing questioned, in full "business" mode.
She pondered the question for a moment, her eyes staring to some far off horizon. "Possibly..." She murmured without conviction. "However, from what I've heard from Dark and Goslyn, it...doesn't sound right. The first thing on his list is Dark and company. If he were going to do anything, he would kill them first, not leave them there to go after *you*." He scowled, and she quietly added, "no offense, Nightwing."
Batman absentmindedly rubbed a hand over his chin. "So, from what you've heard, you don't believe that was the real Negaduck?"
She shook her head slowly. "No, I do not. However, I wonder...who would want to impersonate such a horrid creature to ever curse this Earth?"
"I think I do," Nightwing muttered, heading for the window to the Towers. Giving Batman a sidelong glance, he nodded, following closely behind.
Morgana's eyes shifted from Nightwing to Batman, confusing in her eyes. She too hurried up to the window. "Who? Who do you think would do such a thing?"
Batman turned slightly to face her. "Steelbeak," he replied quickly, making his way to the small window. Her eyes widened, not comprehending what had happened the past couple of days.
"Explain to me how Steelbeak--"
"There's no time, Morgana," he answered coldly, turning for the window.
Nightwing scowled at the vigilante, shaking his head slightly. 'Boy the man has some manners,' he jabbed. "I'll...leave you two be for the moment. I'll be outside," he said. He emphasized the last word specifically for Bruce to hit his true meaning home.
Batman sighed, nodding almost imperceptably. Facing her large green eyes, Batman immediately cursed his rude behavior. "We have reason to believe the portal used to bring us here was used to transport contraband and weaponry. This contraband includes the Renew U creme, which can change the facial features of a person to whomever they wish for a period of time." Her eyes turned to saucers, her small beak dropping open. "We believe that one of Steelbeak's associates dressed up as Negaduck as a red herring."
She nodded silently in understanding. Looking up to the glowing eye slits, she smiled kindly. "Thank you," she answered in her sultry accented voice. He turned for the window. "I hope you find your way back home, Batman," she bolstered.
As he rejoined Nightwing out on the ledge, she barely heard the softened voice reply, "so do I."
--There ya go!--
Hey SK! Great to see you again! I'm so glad you started up on this story... I'm really enjoying it, though I must say, I've wanted to give Dick a kick in the rear for his attitude. Please keep posting! I wanna see how this ends! Btw, I really liked the part after the explosion where Bruce saved Dick. That was really touching. I also liked Gos's entrance as the Quiverwing Quack and the whole Wingster dialogue. It's really great! Please post soon! Ever faithful in reading,
"In sorrow we must go, but not in despair. Behold! we are not bound for ever to the circles of the world, and beyond them is more than memory." -Aragorn's parting words to Arwen
--Thanks, Batgirl, I'm glad someone's reading it. Well, as far as Wingster's attitude is concerned, he'll get his soon enough. Trust me. No good deed goes unpunished. Heh. Anywho..--
They landed upon the windowsil of the old hospital. Darkwing--the only one awake--promptly unlocked and opened the window for the visitors. "How is he doing?" Nightwing whispered.
"Good, considering he had a building fall on his head. The doc said that he would have to be bedridden for a week or so, due to the head injury and extensive damage done to his body," Darkwing explained. 'For once, he isn't using the big words out of arrogance,' Nightwing mused, noticing the mallard's worry lined face. "In fact, the doctor said that he was lucky to survive at all." His gaze turned from the large duck lying still in the bed to Nightwing's covered eyes. "Launchpad would have died had it not been for you doing...whatever you did."
"CPR," he answered automatically. "It stands for cardio-pulminary resessitation. If someone stops breathing or their heart stops beating, you perform that to hopefully keep them alive." Nightwing lowered his gaze momentarily. "Sometimes it doesn't work, if someone is too far gone. But it gives someone a fighting chance."
Darkwing nodded numbly. "I watched what you did, and I'm sure some of the doctors here know how to do it. I'll learn it as soon as possible." Sighing, the mallard looked up to him again, clearly back in "business" mode. "Have you found anything?"
Nightwing nodded, leaning on a small desk. "Yeah. The rifle is fired by way of electromagnetism."
"Like a railgun, yeah," Darkwing replied, somewhat impatiently.
Nightwing blinked. He *knew* something for once. That was a shock. Pushing the thought aside, he continued. "Batman here says he saw specs for it from LexCorp, a rival company, a few months ago. Lex Luthor--LexCorps C.E.O.--is notorious for shady dealing, although charges have never been brought up."
Darkwing's eyes narrowed. "Sounds alot like Steelbeak."
"Exactly," he voiced. Sauntering towards the window, Nightwing tossed a glance over his shoulder. "Do you know of any contraband that's disappeared when you tried to search for it?" Darkwing shook his head, his fedora bobbing slightly. Nodding to himself, Nightwing muttered, "that's what I thought."
Batman began to follow him out, when Darkwing's eyes caught him. "We're going to Steelbeak's hideout."
Darkwing's eyes widened to saucers, and his beak practically dropped to the floor. "How is that possible? How'd you find that out?"
"Come with us, and we'll tell you."
His eyes traveled over to his slumbering daughter in the chair next to his bandaged up friend. He sighed. "Where are we headed?"
Nightwing stealthily landed upon the tarmac roof, his eyes locked steadily in front of him. The quicker they got Steelbeak and the doctor lady, the quicker they could go home, and the quicker *he* could see Babs again.
He sighed quietly, envisioning every aspect of her. The way her fiery red hair cascaded down her back in long locks, the way her sapphire eyes shined whenever he'd cracked some stupid joke. Not to mention the killer figure.
A hand lightly placed itself on his shoulder. Shocked out of his daydream, he grabbed the offending arm, chucking the body over his shoulder, instinctively moving into defensive position. He spied as Darkwing flew in front of him, expertly tucking himself into a ball. His large purple cape wrapped around him, making him look like a flying violet fireball. The mallard pulled himself out of the ball, touching the ground with an astounding amount of grace. The violet duck merely brushed himself off, rearranging his cape behind him, giving Nightwing a withering stare. "Jumpy tonight?"
Nightwing simply smirked, shaking his head. "Something like that, I guess." Although he wouldn't admit it, that little show impressed him. 'Guess he really *can* move when he wants. Too bad his ego always gets in the way.'
Darkwing quirked an eyebrow up. "Anxious?"
Nightwing broke into a full smile. "Very."
The masked mallard returned the grin, walking up to the edge next to him. "Do you guys really know where Steelbeak is hiding?"
"We have a pretty good idea," he replied.
Darkwing cast a sidelong glance to the larger man next to him. "I thought guys like you didn't go on just 'pretty good ideas'."
He shrugged. "Well, there's a first time for everything."
Crossing his arms, Darkwing leaned against the railing. "So, how'd you guys 'guess' where Steelbeak was?"
"We read your files, including your...uh...commentaries about them," he explained calmly. "What you had put down for Steelbeak was that he was an egomaniac, and very materialistic, but he wasn't stupid. So, me and Batman figured that if he ran, he'd go to the place where all his merchandise would be. After all, it would be stupid to leave all that contraband unguarded, correct?"
The duck swiveled his head to the side, knitting his brow. "But there are hundreds of places--"
"Not so. You'd need a place big enough to hold all those weapons and crates, for which there'd be alot. Two, you'd need a big enough area for that portal thing to open where you could freely move. Three, you'd need the place to be secluded enough to where people wouldn't be able to see such a bright light, but inside the heart of city to divy up the crates quicker." Casting a quarter glance to his smaller counterpart, he spoke, "do you know any places like that?"
Darkwing grinned evilly, his eyes searching the horizon. "The old Khan factory. That place has been revamped for several other purposes, due to it's huge storage capacity and heavy machinery. It'd be a perfect spot for someone like Steelbeek to hide his goods."
Nightwing nodded quickly. "Exactly."
Darkwing turned on his heel, walking to the other side of the roof, when he stopped suddenly. "Where's Batman?"
Nightwing's eyes gazed about quickly, getting a strange feeling in his gut, but he shook it off. "Who knows. He's notorious for disappearing into the shadows. Knowing him, he's probably there already."
"I'm right here," he said, in his gruff voice. "I was waiting for you two to *bond*--"
Darkwing's chest puffed defensively, and--Nightwing had to admit--his did so too. "Whatever," he--oh so tactfully--replied, starting off towards the mammoth warehouse.
The three of them arriving in record time, they entered the dilapidated building by way of the ventilation system. Crawling through the tight aluminum tubes gave him the distinct feeling of a TV dinner. Not that he wasn't *used* to it, being Robin and then Nightwing, it's just this was a bit more...unnerving somehow. Finally making their way to a catwalk enshrouded in darkness, they crept along it, listening to Steelbeak's conversation.
"Great, *now* how are we going to get Daggett's merchandise out of here?" He boomed at his second in command, a albatross creature.
He shrugged impishly. "We just use it. I mean, we were supposed to just *hold* Daggett's creme stuff, not *use* it."
Nightwing's eyes widened. Their theories were *waaaay* off the mark. No doubt Batman and perhaps even Darkwing understood the weight of the flippiant comment. Listening intently, Steelbeak countered defensively. "Yeah, well, Daggett *jipped* us, don't you remember? That idiot gave us faulty goods!"
Nightwing cast a glance over to his former mentor, signing quickly. ((Guess the prototype *didn't* work after, all,)) he quipped.
Batman nodded in agreement. ((I suspected as much. A weapon like that is too volitile.))
Upon noticing the strange glances he was getting from Darkwing, he signed, ((do you think I should explain to Darkwing--))
((I know sign language, you dimwit,)) he snapped. ((I'm not *completely* inept at stealth, you know. I was just following your conversation. Didn't realize there was a certain way you're supposed to watch them, sorry.))
((Look, I didn't mean it as--))
((Y'know I'm sick of you thinking that I'm some braindead wierdo in a mask!)) Darkwing signed, his slim fingers moving furiously. ((Just because I don't wear spandex or immediately come to conclusions as fast as you two do doesn't mean I'm an idiot!))
((I hadn't meant--))
((I've survived on my own here long before you two ever showed up, and I'll survive long after. So therefore I must not be as dumb as you *think* I am.))
((I don't think--))
((Don't explain. I don't want to hear it,)) he ended the conversation with a brutally quick sign. ((The quicker we get Steelbeak, the quicker you both can leave.))
Batman visibly winced at the anger seeping into his silent conversation. He seemed an amiable person--even *with* the mask. They must have really been pushing somehow since they've arrived. Sighing, he turned back to the conversation below.
"...so what if we were supposed to just *hold* the creme? The weapons was the payment for our storage capabilities, and since those weapons didn't deliver, it's time we find *another* way to make good our deal," Steelbeak explained with the type of tone that a boss would use to scold his newest employee.
The albatross blinked, rubbing his long chin. "Okay, so we use the creme. What about the portal thing?"
Steelbeak shrugged non chalantly. "What *about* it?"
"Well..." The man fumbled for the right words. "We'll run out of the stuff *eventually*, and we need to get the thing-a-ma-jig back from the Darkwing Dork--"
Darkwing huffed his disapproval.
"Forget it, we don't need it," Steelbeak replied airily, turning away, waving a hand up in the air. "They can do whatever they want with it--*if* they figure out how to use it, that is."
Nightwing furrowed his brows. ((Wait, if you guys didn't know how to use it, then how'd *I* get here?))
((I don't know, how *did* you get here?)) Darkwing stated.
((Cute. All I know is that one second I was in the lab, a bright light flashed, and I jumped into it--))
((You jumped into it?)) The masked mallared asked incredulously. Nightwing could've even sworn he saw a tiny impish grin on Bruce's face. Nah.
((Shut up, I didn't mean to. It's not important anyway, what *is* important is how I wound up here if you guys don't know how to use it.))
((We *do* know how to use it,)) Darkwing stated. ((We'd just run FOWL out of the building, and we changed the coordinates to send Batman back, but...you sorta came through instead.))
((Oh.)) Nightwing signed quickly, feeling like an idiot. Darkwing simply smiled knowingly. 'I guess the whole "I'm not as dumb as I look thing is really coming back to bite me *now*, huh?' He nodded curtly to the duck next to him, feeling bad all of a sudden. He was the reason Bruce was still here--
"What about the scientist lady? *She* knows how to use it. What if they were to spring her--"
The chicken turned on his heel, facing his X.O. "Then *you'll* have a problem. Speaking of which--"
Evil laughter rang in the giant barren walls, bouncing off the cold cement that created the building, echoing until Steelbeak was forced to clap his hands over his hidden eardrums. "Ahh! What *is* that?"
Five figures plummeted into the foreground of the building, looking as sinister as they could manage. Nightwing merely exchanged glances with Batman, whose eyebrow was quirked up in surrpise and--almost--amusement.
Darkwing, however, was nowhere near as jovial. In an animalistic growl that took even Nightwing aback, Darkwing muttered, "the Fearsome Five."
--There ya go! Oh by the way, I edited part of it. Have fun lookin for it. --
Last edited by SilverKnight; 07-05-2001 at 02:00 AM.
NO!!!!!!!!!!!!! Don't end like that! I wanna see what happens next! Waaah! Hey SK, another kick butt chapter. Keep it going! BTW, I loved the wordless conversations, they were great! The whole "I'm not as dumb as I look" thing was great! I thought it was really cute how Wingster missed Babs. I can't wait to see what you have in store. C ya!
"In sorrow we must go, but not in despair. Behold! we are not bound for ever to the circles of the world, and beyond them is more than memory." -Aragorn's parting words to Arwen
Hey SK, still gonna finish this one? I hope so. Please post soon!
"In sorrow we must go, but not in despair. Behold! we are not bound for ever to the circles of the world, and beyond them is more than memory." -Aragorn's parting words to Arwen
--Okay, BG, you wanted me to keep it going...fine. This is all I've got though, so it's gonna have to hold you over. Too bad it's so short. >smiles< Well. >ahem< I'll leave you to scream for my horrible sense of time. >wink<--
"Well, hello, Steelbeak. Long time no see," the--obviously--lead duck said. Nightwing recognized him at the duck he saw earlier--the "demonic Darkwing".
"Negaduck..." Steelbeak sputtered.
((There's the other one I saw,)) he signed, pointing to the lanky mallard to his right. ((The one in the Jester's suit.))
((Looks like the Joker,)) Batman pointed out.
((His name is Quackerjack. He's insane.)) Darkwing looked to the two larger men on either side of him. ((You ready?))
They both nodded curtly. Darkwing focused on his arch-enemy below for a moment. Feeling a brush of air, he looked back up to find himself alone on the catwalk. "How do they do that?" He muttered to himself, readying his gas gun before stopping. Trying to prove to Nightwing that he wasn't as dumb as they thought he was, he held himself back, listening to what they had to say before charging in with both arms swinging.
Steelbeak broke into a full grin, walking up to the evil man. "It *has* been a long time! How've you been? To what do I owe this honor?"
Negaduck only grinned--that same grin that sent chills up Darkwing's spine; that malicious smile that crossed his face whenever he was about to torture someone to no end. "I had a sudden craving for extra crispy chicken and immediately thought of *you*."
The chicken blinked, backing up slowly. "Wh-what d-do you mean?"
Nodding slightly each of the "Fearsome Five", as Darkwing called them, began to pummel forward, giving no one except Steelbeak any mind. "Well, you see..." Negaduck began, pausing for a moment. "We heard on the news about my sightings at that street that exploded--"
"And mine!" The jester duck, "Quackerjack", chimed.
Negaduck nodded in an annoyed fashion. "Yes--and I found that odd...considering I wasn't *there* and all. And since I wasn't there, I had to find out who *was*. And surprisingly enough, that wasn't very hard. All I had to do was pluck the right feathers..." He reached the chicken, whom by now had backed clear to the other side of the room, and leaned in closely to his beak. "So, now you see my dilemma?"
Steelbeek nodded hesitantly.
The grin returned to Negaduck's face. Nightwing's eyes darted from Batman's and Darkwing's, silently signaling to get ready. 'Man this guy gives me the creeps,' he thought to himself, holding some gas pellets in his hand. Down below, Negaduck began to pace around the surrounded chicken. "Now, what world-wide crime organization could be capable of copying my beatiful face?" Glaring at the chicken, his eyes narrowed. "Let's figure that out, shall we?"
Nightwing nodded. "Show time," he muttered, pulling out a jumpline.
A pellet dropped from the girders, exploding into a huge ball of purple gas. "I am the terror that *flaps* in the night!" A thunderous voice boomed. 'That's our cue,' he thought as he dove off the ledge, into the fray of running supervillians of various species. Immediately he tackled a giant rodent--'what no Cat-Woman in this dimesion?'--sending them sprawling to the floor, unconscioius. As he knew his own name, he was sure that Batman had already taken down at least two of the other fugitives in seconds. Vaguely, he made out Darkwing dropping from the girders, cape in his hands. "I am the teacher that flunks you out of math!"
He gaped at him. 'Where does he come *up* with this stuff?' He shook his head, leaping into the cloud again as the mallard delivered his trademark sentence. "I am Darkwin--"
"*SHOOT* HIM!" The chicken Steelbeek commanded as the smoke cleared. On cue, fifteen thugs, armed with high weaponry invaded the room, all of their sights trained on the violet mallard. The duck merely grinned slyly, backflipping off the crates as they disintegrated.
Nightwing had no time to worry about Darkwing's safety, seeing as how three of the "Fearsome Five" had him surrounded in a rough triangle. One was the rodent, the other a green duck--'Bushroot,' he assumed. 'Heh, he *does* look like Gumbi'--and a dog-shaped--geletin...thing. "So, you guys are the Fearsome Five, eh?" Nightwing said, backing near a crater, forming a plan. "Where's the 'fearsome'?"
"Right here," the rat replied, pulling out an odd looking gun--somewhat similar to Darkwing's. He pointed it at him, and depressed the trigger. However, Nightwing had already lept to safety on the crate, and vaulted off it into the large plant-duck. They both fell to the ground, though Nightwing was the only one to stand up.
Ignoring the chaos insuing around him, he turned upon the two "supervillians". "Hey, Ratboy, you missed," he quipped, charging him.
"It's not 'Ratboy'!" He replied, extending out his hand. Surprisingly quick, the rat moved out of Nightwing's way, clamping his hand down upon his arm. His entire insides felt on fire as electricity surged through his body. After several moments, he merely slumped to the ground, unconscious. "It's 'Megavolt'."
Batman, across the room from Nightwing, was immersed in his own problems. He had already subdued around a dozen or so of Steelbeak's men, but that wasn't a problem. He had speed and strength unlike most in this world were capable of, and needless to say, the gun-wielding thugs were nothing new for him to deal with.
That wasn't the problem, though.
The "Fearsome Five" were--while not the brightest criminals--extremely volitile with the powers they possessed. Added to the fact that a few of the lackey's were still around shooting at anything that moved, and Steelbeak hismself was probably around, doing God knows what, it all came out with him being on a slight disadvantage.
But hey, he was used to being the underdog.
A duck in a jester's suit--Quackerjack, Darkwing called him--strolled up to him as if he were in a park, and not in the O. K. Corral. "So, Mr. Bananahead," he began, elated. "What do you think *that* is?"
"Your worst nightmare," the Dark Knight replied. Okay, it was cliche, but it got the job done. Without so much as a blink of an eye, he had whipped out a bola. Quackerjack was nobody's fool--despite evidence to the contrary--and dropped to the ground, narrowly missing the whirling object. Almost as a refund for his miss, the bola *did* wrap around another of the trigger-happy thugs, taking him out of commission.
He flipped off a crate, landing in a crouch. The jester mallard barked in laughter, pivoting his banana friend to face the cowled figure. "Did you see *that*? Wow, this guy must be really--" He never saw him pull out the gun--which looked surprisingly similar to Darkwing's in make--it was almost as if it materialized in his hand. The duck howled in joy as he squeezed the trigger, a net exploding out of it. In reflex, he hurled three batarangs in front of him, effectively slicing the net in two, and causing Quackerjack and his companion to dive for cover from the razor sharp objects.
Now he switched to the offensive, barreling towards the now kneeling duck. He grabbed the banana thing from his hand, which he was sure would've been used as a weapon, at the same time kneeing him in the beak. He was sent reeling to the ground, holding his jaw. "Ow! That--" He slashed his arm out, catching Batman dead on the leg. "--hurt!" The Dark Knight crumpled to the floor, his hand clamped over his dislocated knee.
Out of frustration more than anything else, he dispensed of the elaborate styles and arts, giving him an old fashioned right cross. The duck bucked back from the blow, hitting the ground hard, unconsious. He stood quickly, ignoring his injured knee. 'I'll worry about it later,' he thought, pulling out a batarang. His sights locked upon a duck trying to reload his machine gun, he prepared to throw when a scream of pain caught his attention. He wheeled around, his eyes widening.
Nightwing's entire body was tensed in obvious pain, the source seeming to come from a rodent creature wearing what looked like a plug on his head. Electricity. He was being electrocuted. His surrogate son sank to the floor, and his blood boiled. The batarang in a firm grip, he hurled the shuriken toward the rat, which almost instantly connected with him, causing him to let go of Nightwing's arm. He heard a clicking noise behind him, and whipped around to greet a gun--again, similar to Darkwing's--in his face. The "evil twin" of Darkwing smiled. "Boo."
A cloud of gas surrounded his head, entering his throat in mere seconds. He fought against the urge to panic as he felt his air supply being cut off by the gas, and stumbled away, clumsily reaching for his mask. However, it was much too late. By the time his fingers reached the plastic mask, he had collapsed to the ground, unable to move. Darkness enclosed upon him, and his last waking thought was hoping Darkwing could get out of this alive. He was Dr. Bellum's last hope.
--There ya go!--
Last edited by SilverKnight; 07-23-2001 at 12:04 PM.
More tales of the truly ludricous!!!!!!!! Yeah! (does a happy little dance)
Er, well, (sits back down) good to se more of this wonderful story. I am so amazed at the sheer amount of detail you put into this, it makes me feel like I'm watching a movie from the mid twentieth century or reading a realy good novel. Please keep going!
Also, loved the chalenge fic thing you did. Sorry I wasn't able to contribute but I have limited access to the internet right now and NO acces to Microsoft Word. I had this relly good idea, entitiled 'You Drive Me Crazy'... oh well.
More fabulous work, Silverknight! Unfortunately I was out of touch with this story for a long time (computer problems and busy schedule ), but now I'm back, and I'm begging for more!
You know (just a random thought, feel free to ignore it), Negaduck and Megavolt and the rest were real, scary villains to me when I was little, but when I got older and moved to Gotham City, I forgot that I once took them just as seriously as I now do the Joker and Two-Face. Darkwing Duck's world may be a spoof, but his villains are, within their world, real and dangerous. Seeing Batman and Nightwing getting their butts kicked by the Fearsome Five has helped remind me why they were called "fearsome". Thanks for the reminder!
Just one more thought, Silverknight...more please!
M'ral (a born-again Darkwing fan!)
P.S: Remicis has been trying to contact you for weeks. Could you please drop him a line?
I was supposed to do his picture wasn't I? Ooh...oops. >nervous laughter< Oh, I feel so bad right now...and to top it all off, the description he sent me several times I think I've lost again. Heh heh...heh...>ahem<.
Other than that, it's great to see ya M'ral! Long time no see! REALLY long time, no see! Drop me a line, we'll chat, discuss, dish, *****, complain, yada yada yada. Great to see ya back, M'ral, place wasn't the same without ya!
Wonderful job SK, as usual! Please keep it going! And I loved the challenge thing, sorry i couldn't contribute. I got an idea. What if the board did that kind of thing? Like a continuos challenge to do a short, funny story? Any way. I loved it, though I felt reather sorry for Dick. That was kinda scary. I always loved Megavolt. Just out of curiousity... will you finish I am Vengence after Terror and Graduation? Just a Q... Keep going!
Darkwing dove behind the disintegrating crates, his eyes meeting his arch-enemy's. "Negaduck," he spat, his fists clenched. "What are y--" His sentence was cut off when a feathered fist connected with his beak, sending him crashing into the vast pile that were the crates.
"Didn't think I'd see *you* here," Negaduck growled, starting forward. "But killing you is an added bonus."
"Not likely," Darkwing huffed, kicking out as his demonic counterpart neared. The twin soared backwards, hitting the ground hard. The Masked Mallard had no time to deal with his antics, pulling out a length of cable, coming closer to the unmoving duck. However, he was wary of his enemy, knowing all too well what he was capable of doing. Looking him over for a moment, he was outwardly satisfied that the mallard was down for the count, he continued closer. Before Darkwing could take another step closer, Negaduck's leg snapped out. But Darkwing figured that would happen and only gave his ankle a glancing blow as he leapt out of the way. "You don't think I anticipate your underhanded moves, Negaduck?" He snapped, standing in defensive position.
"You never have *before*, why start now?" He replied, taking up the same stance.
"Funny," he jibed, charging forward to the stiff figure. Instinctively, he knew that Negaduck never "played fair", and for him to take up a fighting stance only meant he was about to pull out his gun from behind his back. Almost within arm's reach of his quarry, he ducked to the left, barely missing a spray of bullets. Negaduck growled in annoyance, brutally elbowing the passing hero. The purple clad mallard jerked backwards, reeling from the blow.
Taking the advantage to the fullest, the villian grasped the thin cord that hung loosely from Darkwing's fingers, quickly wrapping them around his own knuckles; turning the simple cord into a garroting wire. Pouncing upon the kneeling figure, he pressed the tiny wire into his throat, cutting off his air supply. Darkwing gasped from the sudden pressure on his neck, feeling the metal of the cord biting into his skin below his feathers. Acting on instinct alone, he began to claw madly at Negaduck's far from pristine hands. "Oh, am I *annoying* you?" Negaduck hissed in his ear menacingly, pulling his body off the ground momentarily. "What? No *witty* comeback?"
He would have spat in his face, if he had the ability to. The air circulating in his body began to grow old and stale, and his veins burned with the need for oxygen. He struggled to think clearly, and ripped himself and Negaduck forward. He instantly regretted the movement, as the wire now sliced into his sensitive skin. "No *threat*?" Negaduck laughed, pulling back farther. "Then say goodbye to life, Darkwing Dork!"
A sudden image popped into his head, of a hi-tech movie that Goslyn forced him to watch. No visible plot, but the action sequences were something to behold. With that a plan formed with a single blink of his eye. Using the hold his arch-enemy had on him, Darkwing lauched into the air, his webbed feet planting onto the wall. As soon as they touched the cold slab of stone, he used every technique he had ever learned to send himself into a backward somersault. The conniving duck lost his grip upon his throat, and he whirled through the air, landing behind him with little more than a small grunt of exertion.
Negaduck turned around, wide-eyed, beak on the floor. He merely flashed him a semi-fierce grin, and slashed his fist up to the amazed mallard's face. The demon duck dropped to the ground, unmoving. "I *hate* that nickname," he muttered, bringing his hand up to his bleeding throat. Surmising it was a minor wound, he turned on his heel to see the very chicken he came to get...well, running like a chicken.
He started after the fugitive, speeding through a doorway and chasing him down a dirty back alley. The chicken veered down another alley, and to his dismay, when Darkwing turned down the same alley, Steelbeak was gone. His eyes scanned the surround area to find nothing. He bit back an expletive, both for losing him, and for suddenly remembering the fearsome five were still in the building.
Darkwing zoomed back into the building, his eyes locking upon a sight he wished he hadn't seen. Nightwing was being electrocuted by Megavolt, who had just let him go due to one of Batman's batarangs. Before Darkwing could yell out a warning, a recently awakened Negaduck gassed Batman in the face, who dropped to the ground in seconds. He sighed. It was up to him now.
He could deal with that. "Let's get dangerous," he growled.
Steelbeak poked his head out of the small cardboard box, hardly believing his luck. He didn't even check the area. 'Guess the idiot five were taking too much of his time,' he quipped, cackling to himself. He dashed over to a payphone, calling up his closest associates, demanding they get him a ride pronto. He then waited at the corner, casting uneasy glances over his shoulder every few moments. He kept getting the eeriest feeling that he was being watched. He shook it off, though, as his ride pulled up.
As he drove off from the small corner, he never had the slightest clue that he was right...
Darkwing pointed his gun toward the crowd of villians, firing a gas pellet between the bodies. He minutely noted that Quackerjack and Bushroot were down for the count, and silently thanked the two vigilantes for making his job much easier. The three masterminds--or birdbrains, depending upon your view--covered their beaks with their hands, coughing violently. He dove into the fray, knocking Negaduck down before going for Megavolt. The violet clouds disappeared quickly, and that's what he wanted.
He took Megavolt by the arm, tossing him over his shoulder. He rolled upon the ground before standing in quasi-defensive position. From behind him, he heard the sloshing noise that was the Liquidator lunging for him, while simultaneously Megavolt charged himself up. With a speed that would make the trapeze-born Nightwing proud, Darkwing dodged the spray of water, sliding out of the way as Liquidator landed on the electrically charged Megavolt. They both shreiked in pain as smoke rose from their connected bodies. Sparks flew from the villians, and after a few moments of brilliant light, a pop of electricity let Darkwing in on the fact that an electrical explosion literally blew the two away from eachother. He wheeled around in defensive position...
To find Negaduck gone.
"Great," he muttered, crossing his arms. His eyes reached the still black pool that was the Dark Knight's cape, and started his way over to him. Not only were Batman and Nightwing injured, but Steelbeak *and* Negaduck have gotten away as well. He kneeled down next to the still form, checking his pulse. "Hm, strong pulse, good breathing--well, *now* anyway..." The gas Negaduck had used on him was his patented knock out gas. It was--ironically--harmless, however it did put someone under for a few solid hours. And judging by how close in proximity he had been to the spray, the Batman--peak of human achievement or not--would be out for the remainder of the night.
A low moan reached his ears, and the Masked Mallard quickly made his way over to Nightwing, who looked pretty well baked. "Morning sunshine," Darkwing chuckled, staring down at the masked vigilante. Nightwing rubbed his head and took a sharp intake of breath. "Yeah, you're pretty burnt," he replied before Nightwing could talk. "Can you walk on your own?"
The human merely quirked an eyebrow, and nodded slowly, lumbering up to his feet with some help from Darkwing. His head scanned the area, and rested upon the Dark Knight's still form. Darkwing watched his red-tinged skin pale several shades as he started across the room. "Bru--" He began, before stumbling on a discarded weapon.
"Easy!" Darkwing chastised, catching the larger man by the arm. "It's just knockout gas, he'll be fine. But he's going to be out like a light for the rest of the night."
"...'bout time he got a good night's sleep," he murmured, regaining his footing. He knelt down to his former mentor, shifting his hands under the man's body so he could pick him up.
Darkwing came next to him, placing a bloodsmeared hand on his arm. "It's okay, I'll take him." Nightwing stared at him like he was nuts. "Look, I may be 'small', but I'm not weak. Plus you can barely hold *yourself* up, much less anyone else." He smirked knowingly. "So, just this once...let me carry him. Okay?"
He gaped at him for a moment, and then nodded mutely. Darkwing shifted, placing the much larger man onto his shoulder. He gasped at the weight of the man on his very tender shoulder, but still held him up. "Now call the cops and tell him--"
"I know the drill," Nightwing snapped, hobbling towards the door.
Darkwing blinked as the human melded into the shadows in seconds. "Yes, you do, sheesh."
--There ya go!--
Last edited by SilverKnight; 08-10-2001 at 06:52 AM.
That was great! Please post more soon! Poor Bats and Wingster... but hey, great job DW!!!
--Okay, VERY short post. But just to let you know I'm still alive. --
"So, we're back at square one, huh?" Nightwing sighed, laying his comatose friend upon the small couch he himself occupied hours before.
"That's about the size of it," Darkwing replied, sitting heavily in his absurdly large chair. He sat a moment, massaging the bridge of his bill wearily, before leaning forward to open a compartment underneath the keyboard. His feathered hand rummaged through the drawer before pulling out a roll of gauze and some disinfectant. He watched the mallard stand, trudging over him. "Here," he muttered, holding the objects out. "These can clean your wounds." Darkwing's eyes reached the Batman's prone form, and a frown began to form at the corners of his beak. "That knee wound looks pretty nasty."
Nightwing shook the concern off. "Nah, it's only dislocated. I can pop it back in in no time." He flashed the duck a grin. "But it's going to hurt real bad when he wakes up."
The canard harrumphed, and he watched his silhouette return to the drawer. Again the shadow fished through the container for a moment before tossing the prize across the room to him, who caught it with ease. "He better thank me for it," Darkwing muttered.
He fingered the smooth plastic for a moment before the white letters on the label dawned on him. He shook his head, chuckling. "Oh, I'm sure he will. The person who invented aspirin should be made a saint," Nightwing commented.
Carefully, he peeled off the skin-tight kevlar top, and began dressing the wounds on his arm and back. He winced as the disinfectant met the blistered and raw skin on his forearm, but made no sound as the liquid began to bubble and hiss. Only peripherally did he notice Darkwing pacing about the expansive room, vanishing and reappearing through several doors and hallways. As he wrapped the gauze around his sore skin, the shadow reemerged, an odd look upon his face. "Have you seen Goslyn around here at all?"
Nightwing shook his head minutely. "I thought she was back with Launchpad."
The duck nodded, distractedly. "Right...right..." The purple-clad vigilante turned, heading for the large Cray computer terminal. Curious, Nightwing set down the bottle of antiseptic and sauntered over to the screen. The stubby fingers flew over the keys, stringing up a series of codes. When the mallard finally sat back, the telltale beeps of a number dialing up. The mallard leaned his elbows against the armrests, steepling his fingers in front of his face. If it weren't for the obvious fact that the person sitting in the overstuffed chair was a duck, he would've sworn it was Bruce sitting there, trying to prove a point to him. He waited patiently as the supercomputer worked its magic, connecting to various channels and frequencies, searching for the one Darkwing assigned it to find. Finally, after a few minutes a disembodied voice echoed through the room. "St. Canard General, how may I help you?"
Nightwing cast an unreadable glance, which Darkwing readily ignored. "Yes, this is Drake Mallard. Could you connect me to Launchpad McQuack's room?"
"Family or friend?" The crisp voice answered.
A click wafted through the speakers, and slight static was all that was heard for several moments. Finally, another click let them know that the phone in the room had been picked up. "...ugh, ullo?"
His brows furrowed, and so did Darkwing's. "Launchpad?"
He could hear the smile in the albatross' voice. "Hey, DW."
Darkwing blinked, concern beginning to show on his features. "Launchpad, what are you doing up?"
They could both see in their mind's eye Launchpad shrug halfheartedly. "The phone woke me up."
Now he began to worry. "Wasn't Gos there?" Nightwing asked.
"...wingster? What are you doin' on the phone?" The large duck asked groggily.
Darkwing stood from the chair, his pristine palms pressed flat against the cold steel. "Launchpad," the mallard boomed in a commanding tone. "Where's Goslyn?" Static crackled. The connection was about to be broken. "LP, is she there? Do you have *any*--" A blip of noise sounded, and the phone line went dead. Darkwing shoved himself away from the console, storming towards the chairs.
"Wait, where are you going?" Nightwing questioned, following him.
"I'm going to the hospital," he replied icily, sitting down upon the chairs.
"Alone? Won't that look strange?" Nightwing pointed out.
"It's not like you can go with me. Wouldn't *that* look strange?" Darkwing shot back, a hard glare being given to him from underneath the large bill of the hat.
Snake-fast, Nightwing clamped his hands down over Darkwing's before he could reach for the trigger head. "What do you hope to accomplish?"
His bill curved downward in a noticeable frown, and he shook Nightwing's hands off of him brutally. "More than I am now," he snapped, slamming down the jamb. Nightwing was forced backwards as the chair began to spin at a dizzying rate.
His eyes traveled to the slumbering form on the couch, and sighed wearily. "Great," he muttered. 'Launchpad's out for the count, Goslyn's missing, Bruce is in nap-land, and now Drake's going AWOL to look for her.' He pressed the heels of his palms to his tired eyes. 'Well, Grayson, it's up to you yet again.' His lips curled into a quiet grin. "I better be getting overtime for this."
--There ya go!--
YES!!! Go Wingster! How did I know Gos would do something like this? Heehee. Go Gos! Please post soon!
Drake stormed through his home, making a bee-line for his room. He ripped off the various apparel that made up his vigilante regalia, tossing them uncerimoniously upon the ground in a haphazard line behind him. He nearly tore the old wooden door off it's hinges as he rummaged through his closet for clothing. He sighed, unwillingly remembering that he had to do the laundry. Stifling a growl, he gripped a dingy sweater that had seen too many washes and pulled it over his thick bill.
He stepped outside moments later, car keys in hand, when his eyes reached the line of clothes that littered his carpeted floor. A sudden thought entered his mind, and he dashed into Goslyn's room, almost in a frenzy. Under normal circumstances, he would never have disturbed her private space, for it was that exact reason that he himself had become distant and later rebellious to his parents. However, this was not under normal circumstances, as the aching tingle of dread began to crawl through his intestines.
He headed towards the closet, where Gos had hidden her Qwiverwing Quack costume from him. Or, that's what she had thought. He, while not the *smartest* mallard on the face of the Earth, knew when his child was hiding something from him. And he was Darkwing Duck; his instincts were honed to a sharpness no normal parent would ever dream of. And, while she wasn't out gallivanting around the city, being a danger to herself and others, he was content to let her think her "secret costume stash" was safe. While at school, he periodically checked the hiding spot, just to make sure she hadn't wised up to him and moved it to where he *couldn't* know what she was up to, to find the bright green outfit nestled against the lining of the closet.
He carefully pulled the various jerseys back to see only sloppily plastered dry wall. Swearing under his breath, he sped out of the room, stopping at the phone. Having second thoughts, he picked up the receiver, he dialed up the hospital again. "St. Canard General, how may I help you?"
"Yes, this is Drake Mallard again--"
"Ah, Mr. Mallard," the disembodied voice answered knowingly. "Someone had a message left for you."
The crawling worms in his stomach broke free from their cocoons and became full-blown butterflies. "Did they," he answered impassively. Always the master of disguise.
"Yes, they did. It was a note addressed to you, saying 'don't worry, they won't get away with this.' It was signed by someone named...Q?"
His large eyes bulged in unparalleled fury. His voice, though, calmly, on the verge of coldly, replied, "thank you, ma'am. Good night." Calculatingly, he set down the phone upon the cradle, his breathing slow and measured. *They* wouldn't get away with it?! *They* were cold-blooded killers! *They* could kill her! The corner of his eye twitched spasmodically. 'But if *they* hurt her, so help me...'
"*They'll* have *me* to deal with."
Nightwing tapped his foot impatiently upon the tarmac roof. He wasn't above waiting for hours on end in the worst weather imaginable just so could catch a couple of two-bit crooks in the act of getting drugs or weapons on the streets.
But in another dimension?
He could deal with that.
Then again, it didn't mean he'd ever *enjoy* it. The end result was satisfying, but the wait for someone as active as him was less than enjoyable.
He continued tapping the toe of his shoe against the dilapiated rooftop, his binoculars trained to the building across the roof. After Darkwing had stormed off, he returned to the database, reading and re-reading all that was on there about Steelbeak. After cross-checking the hideouts with size, access, and anonimity, the only other one that came up batting a-thousand was this old worn out building mere yards from his vantage point. It looked similar to the Shear Khan building, but that was where the similarities ended. It was across town, a sore thumb against the prosperous factory district. He figured it was much harder all around for them to conduct their business without unwanted onlookers stumbling in. Then again, Steelbeak probably *owned* half of the workers, so maybe it wasn't as bad when considering the alternative.
He zoomed in the lenses, spying into the building. It seemed many of the tux-wearing chicken-man's thugs were inside, frantically packing up crates into trucks. However, there was no sign of Steelbeak anywhere. But this *had* to be where he was. Steelbeak was an ego-maniac; he'd never leave a subordinate to the job of the leader, or whatever excuse ran though the bird's mind.
That didn't change the fact that there was no sign of him. One truck pulled out, which Nightwing readily tracked. As more began to file out, he began to have his doubts. 'Well,' Nightwing told himself. 'There or not, Steelbeak's men have a big racket going on, and since the big guy's out of commission for the time, it's the replacement vigilante in the black tights' job to do it.' He unfurled the flap of kevlar that made up his "wings", gliding to the windowsil of the offending building.
Creaking it open, he stole inside, hiding in the darkness of the rafters. Preparing his shuriken's, he let a flurry of them loose upon the unsuspecting men and machinery. Sparks flew from the machines and expletives streamed from the men. Nightwing smirked. No, he *wasn't* above waiting for hours on end in the worst weather possible to get the chance to crack a few dozen skulls in some serious need of realignment.
But in another dimension?
He could deal with that.
--There ya go!--
Another great one! Please keep it up!
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