Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

One lanky duck sat alone at the bus station, awaiting the night bus from Duckburg to Saint Canard. The first streaks of twilight were beginning to color the sky, smearing it with broad strokes of purple and orange across the few clouds that were scattered low over the last bright edges of the horizon. But he didn’t pay any attention to the beautiful sight above him; he was scrolling on his phone, his elbow on his knee, his head resting on the back of his hand, propping himself up as he sat on top of a hefty purple suitcase. He wasn’t actually reading any of the text on his screen, instead just idly watching it slide by as he flicked his thumb, hoping that time could be convinced to pass faster by this mindless ritual. The breathtaking wonder of the natural world would have to wait. 

This was scarcely unusual because this duck was none other than Drake Mallard, who was, despite all appearances to the contrary, incredibly busy. He was busy wallowing. Wallowing in his own state of remorse for his life. For all of his determination and confidence, his ardent belief that he was cool, handsome, and clever, his indomitable will and undefeatable spirit... he was feeling pretty terrible.

Drake Mallard had to admit to himself that he was beaten.

Not beaten up or even beaten down; instead he had been soundly beaten by a steady stream of unlucky events. After the Darkwing: First Darkness movie was cancelled and the studio destroyed, McDuck Enterprises had firmly refused to pursue any further projects involving the entertainment industry, movie-related or otherwise. In other words, he lost his big break, and his movie career was up in a burst of purple decorative smoke before he’d even had a chance to prove himself. Outside of that, Duckburg wasn’t exactly the place to break into the movie business. Not that such circumstances daunted Drake. He went to a few auditions and tried odd jobs – all the usual things to make some money – but Duckburg had its own share of problems. 

Sure, he was no Scrooge McDuck: billionaire, adventurer of legend, master of alliteration, roguishly Scottish, probably immortal…

Still, he'd had a taste of feeling like a hero during the moon invasion. Even if no one could remember who he was. Even if when they did notice him they treated him like some freak in a purple costume. Even if he could still feel every one of the blows from those moon thugs. Even if he was way out of his depth and had no idea what was going on half the time. He did what he thought was right; he was always happy to help! At the time, he had felt so brave, so sure…

But now, as he sat at the bus stop with his suitcases, he just felt silly. 

Now he had to head back to his hometown and find a real job. Now, he wasn’t a hero; he was just Drake Mallard: a guy with no life direction, lots of bruises, a borderline unhealthy sense of hero worship and a bus to catch.

Luckily for him, he had a friend in Duckburg who had other plans.

That friend was Launchpad McQuack, who didn't know a lot, but he did know one thing: he didn't want to leave things like this.

He had gone to see Drake off to St. Canard, maybe see if he needed any help moving, but had found his dressing room empty. Mr. McDee had evidently already sent him off on his way with bus tickets (bus tickets! seriously?) and if he had any chance at a real goodbye, he was going to have to drive like his life depended on it.

Luckily, that was how he always drove.

The fact that he had no idea which bus Drake was getting on or when it was arriving hadn't occurred to him. The information didn’t seem vital until he had crashed the limo that Mr. McDee had let him borrow into the "bus parking only" sign and scrambled out of the driver's seat, looking around frantically for a bus schedule.

Drake was so surprised by the crash that he nearly fell off of his suitcase. Without thinking, he was already on his feet, rushing over to help whatever poor soul had just crashed on the other side of the bus station. After everything that had happened, he was developing a habit of running directly toward danger, rather than away from it. In this situation, however, danger was a fender bender. It didn’t even look particularly nasty, but both the car, (a limousine, actually!) that had crashed up onto the embankment and the duck driving it were very familiar. 

"Hey! Are you okay? If you're hurt just sit still, I'll get help—Launchpad? What are you doing here?"

Climbing out of the front seat and breaking into a run, Launchpad swept Drake up into a hug without hesitation.                                                        

"Drake! I'm so glad I caught you, buddy!"

Launchpad held him at arm's length. Then, he realized he should probably put him down, so he did, dusting him off with an awkward smile. "Oh! Sorry. Mr. McDee sent you off in such a hurry I didn't get to say goodbye! Not that I want to say goodbye...I mean, I don't not want to say goodbye but...a bus? Really?" As Launchpad spoke, He eyed the bus with some distrust before returning his attention to Drake. Launchpad McQuack didn’t trust any bus he wasn’t driving himself. "You know, I have my driver's license...now."

Drake shrugged, then rubbed the back of his head a bit sheepishly. "Sorry I didn't tell you I was heading home. I didn't want to bother anybody. What are you—? I mean, well, yeah I was going to take the bus. I'm from Saint Canard, it’s four hours away. That's kinda far to drive, isn’t it? But it would mean we would have some time to catch up..."

"Are you kidding? Four hours is nothing! Seriously, it's no big deal, I can do that, no sweat!"

They both glanced back at the limo, parked haphazardly up over the embankment, the bus station information sign now bent around the front corner of the bumper, and an awkward silence fell over them.

"I mean, if you...if you don't want to, that's fine, though."

"Oh! Well—I—uh, sure! I-I can't offer you a ton of gas money or anything, but I was just going to zone out and watch old Darkwing Duck episodes on my phone." He chuckled a little and picked up his backpack, tossing his duffel over his shoulder as he dragged his suitcase over, loading his belongings into the back. "A limo? Wow, you can drive a limo?" He climbed into the passenger seat instead of the back.

"Yeah! Mr. McDee lets me drive it wherever I need to so long as I'm back whenever he needs me to fly him anywhere...but ever since Dewey's mom got back from the moon, I've had a lot more free time so... you were gonna watch old DW episodes, huh? Which season?"

"Well, yeah. I saved some of my favorites. I really like the pre-Negaduck arc. I know it was cut off at a cliffhanger, but I was just really excited for the reveal. We never got to see him for real, you know—" He cut himself off while buckling his seat belt. "Did you say fly? Like a plane? That's super cool!"

"It is? I mean uh, yeah, I'm a pilot! I need to work on my landings but there are few things I love more than flying." He pushed a button on the dash and a small television screen popped out of the dashboard. A familiar theme song began playing. "Darkwing Duck might just be one of them..."

Drake hummed along to himself. "Daring duck of mystery, champion of right, swoops out of the shadows, Darkwing owns the night~ Heheh, that's pretty impressive though! Flying, driving, that's getting dangerous! You're pretty cool, you know that?"

Launchpad was slightly distracted, as he was also humming along to the theme song, so when Drake said he was cool he was caught a bit off guard.

"What? Me? I'm nowhere as cool as you though! I mean, you got to actually be Darkwing Duck and stand up for what's right! You got yourself beat up by all those Moonlanders to protect everyone, the whole Earth! Now that's getting dangerous! Nothing's cooler than that." 

The smaller duck smiled, perking up. "It was pretty cool! Being at that big war meeting with everybody, facing off against evil! You were there too! I bet you get to go on all kinds of dangerous adventures with Mr. McDuck! Fighting aliens! Mummies! Finding cursed treasure!"

"I guess so...I'm just the pilot, though. You're a real hero!" Launchpad answered without a second thought. He looked at Drake for a moment, studying him. To do so, he took his eyes off the road, swerved to correct, then let out an easy-going laugh. "So, what do you think? Are you gonna keep the cape on in St. Canard? Be the terror that flaps in the night?"

"Me? Oh, I don't know. It's kind of... complicated?"

 Drake wasn’t exactly ready to explain how he had casually failed at his big break, how being a superhero wasn’t exactly a viable career option when you had bills to pay, how he had legitimately run out of money while trying to live in Duckburg...it was all a bit of a mess. His life was just a mess. At least, that was what went through his head as he held onto the door handle, leaning casually into a second swerve as Launchpad drifted around a tight corner. 

"Is it? It didn't seem too complicated when you were out there doing it. You're a natural! The way you took hit after hit and just walked it off, just like the real DW..."

The real DW …

They both thought about Jim, the hero they had unquestionably looked up to for so many years.

Sure, he had lost his direction at the end, but even so...he was gone now.

They drove in silence for a long while, Launchpad keeping his focus on the road for once, glancing only periodically at the episode of Darkwing Duck playing on the dashboard screen. After a while he spoke softly, his voice gentle and cautious.

"I guess it's possible there's such a thing as...too dangerous."

"Yeah...."

Drake found himself passively watching the road and mumbling along with the dialogue of the episode; “ If you think you're getting out of here, you're in for a shock! Aha, not while I'm wearing these rubber boots! Suck gas, evildoer!”

"Well, thanks again for driving me. I uh, Duckburg was exciting! I'll never forget it. Oh! Did you have any fan theories for what happened after episode 62?" He felt like he was rambling, trying to fill any gaps in the conversation, not that Launchpad made him feel awkward, that wasn’t the case at all, but more that talking, even rambling, kept his mind off of things, and Launchpad always answered without missing a beat.

"I always thought it was sort of a cop-out that we never got to see the real Negaduck in the end. I mean, it was obvious that the writers were setting up a big reveal but we never got our showdown in the end. That was kind of a letdown."

"I know, right? I read that there was supposed to be a big special to start season five, but after the show was cancelled, obviously it never got made. We only got to see him disguised as Darkwing! Oh! There's some cool fan scripts on the DW discussion boards about how maybe he was an evil twin, or him from an alternate universe where he became the villain! Ha, I would have loved that, it gives a cool introspection to his character, like DW having to face that if he stopped defending truth and justice, he might see himself as a villain!"

As the smaller duck rambled excitedly, his entire demeanor noticeably improved. He never had a friend to talk about Darkwing Duck with, and it was like Launchpad not only cared, but understood what it was like to be passionate about what most considered a silly TV show!

Launchpad stared at him, driving purely on instinct and peripheral vision, his jaw hanging open and a slight blush creeping over his cheeks. There was only one user who actively commented on his scripts and kept up with each and every update he posted to his fanfics.

"No way! Are you PurpleTerror91 ? I didn't think anyone actually read my fan scripts...and you...actually liked them? You didn't think the part about him facing his own demons and realizing Negaduck was a manifestation of his own madness and internalized villainy was too much?" 

But Launchpad’s anxieties were assuaged almost instantly by his companion’s reaction, when his eyes lit up, balling his fists excitedly.

"OH my gosh yes! Are you really CrashToTheMax? I love your fanfics! No, I loved it, I didn't think it was too dark, I think you put a lot of thought into handling character development and the struggles of making morally gray decisions for the good of everyone and wrestling with how to be a better person! I love it, it's applying real world morals to the universe!"

Launchpad laughed, a deep, genuine sound full of absolute joy. He took one hand off the wheel, pointing at himself excitedly.

"Yes! That's me! I spend hours on those fics! I like to work on them while I'm flying. Watching the clouds is nice but it can get kinda boring..." He shrugged, then put a hand to his forehead, a look of wonder on his face. He really never expected that people would read his fanworks. They were purely self-indulgent. "I can't believe you've read them! I must have published hundreds of pages by now. I thought I was the only one who cared what happened to DW after the cliffhanger from a moral perspective, or where Negaduck really came from, or..."

"No, no! It was great! I can tell you thought about it a lot, it felt really real, like DW could be a real person, like it’s something that lives inside everyone! That's really powerful, I’m totally a fan of your work!"

The limo swerved hard again as it banked around a corner, threatening to tip over before settling hard back down with a thud. Launchpad smiled apologetically as Drake held onto the door handle to steady himself after impact.

"Sorry 'bout that."

"I see why you picked that username! Woo~!” 

"Oh! Yeah, heh heh, I've gotten pretty good at crashing over the years. You could say it's a skill of mine..."

Drake let go of the handle to point at a sign as it passed. “Take exit 63, it's just ahead, like half a mile." 

The exit came up sooner than Launchpad expected and he turned sharply, skidding onto it, making the exit, but just barely. "Phew. Made it. Anyway, I can get you anywhere you need to go. And..." He glanced at him, smiling softly. "And.. I'm really glad you liked my stuff. That uh...it means a lot, you know."

"No, no! It's great. I mean, sometimes just having somebody, even if it’s a stranger online, who shares this thing that makes you happy, you know?"

"Yeah, you can say that again. Although, having someone who's not a stranger is even better, don't you think? You know, we could hang out sometime if you want. Watch old episodes of DW, just talk about theories and stuff...if you're not too busy with things back in St. Canard, I mean. I know you've probably got a whole life waiting for you back there but...it was really nice hanging out, even for a little while."

"Up here. You can park in that garage on the left, it's free." Drake pointed to an upcoming garage, and they pulled into it. "I mean, if you want, you can come up... it's already sort of late, we could get some takeout and binge and talk Darkwing lore...?"

Launchpad’s parking was only mostly crooked, as he was trying not to cause too much property damage his first time here. He wanted to make a good impression. "Really? I... I wouldn't want to impose..."

But Drake just laughed a little as he got out of the car, tossing the duffel and backpack over his shoulder, he pulled out his suitcase. 

"It's fine. As long as you don't mind twelve flights of stairs! It's my personal endurance training~"

Launchpad just shook his head, taking the heavy suitcase from him like it was a pillow, he tucked it under one arm. "Puh-lease, that's nothing! One of the ancient temples I climbed with Mr. McDee must have had twelve hundred steps...this'll be a walk in the park!"

He grinned at him, holding open the door and nodding toward the steps.

"After you, good buddy."

This earned a wry smile from Drake, who adjusted the bags on his shoulders as they walked up to the apartment building. He swiped a fob to open the door, and it opened out to a dingy foyer. There was an elevator to the right, but it looked disused and off, the door probably rusted shut at this point. The hallway ahead had cracked and peeling paint, the sort of place most would assume to be haunted, but Drake just shrugged as he opened the door to the stairs, flood lit by fluorescent lamps that hummed faintly.

"It's uh, historic,” Drake explained with a shrug. “At least, I’m sure that’s how somebody would sell this place. Anyway. Yeah. Stair training!”

Launchpad followed behind him, still carrying the suitcase tucked under one arm. Even though he had been all over the world on all sorts of adventures, these stairs felt like an adventure all their own. He couldn't help but smile to himself at the idea.

"Is this where you get your famous resilience from? Endurance training?" he joked, as they hustled their way up the stairway.

Panting but determined, his purple-clad companion occasionally leaned on the banister to push himself back up.

"Aw, it’s famous? You’re gonna make me blush! Well, when you take the stairs every day, you can make it your training regimen! If Darkwing Duck can be electrocuted and blown up and defenestrated, I can't let some stairs beat me!" He stopped to catch his breath near the top floor, then pushed himself up the last couple flights, opening the door out to another identical hallway of doors.

Pausing just behind him to catch his breath, Launchpad found himself surprised at how winded he was. He really admired Drake's ability to keep going, no matter what. It was incredible, really. He realized he was staring at him and blushed slightly, trying to find something else to focus on by looking around the building. There wasn't much else to look at.

"I think this place has got a certain charm. It's ah...home-y."

There was a gunshot in the distance and a cacophony of dogs barking, followed shortly by police sirens that faded slowly into the distance.

"I uh- yeah, you could call it that." Drake answered as he led him to the end of the end of the hall, unlocking the door and pushing it open. "Home sweet bachelor pad. Come on in."

It was an average sized single bedroom apartment, but it was clearly the home of a nerd. Framed Darkwing Duck posters lined the walls, and there were a few bare spaces along the shelves, clearly where the stuff he had brought with him to Duckburg had been. There was a modest amount of furniture, a lot of it purple, and a comic book cover print throw draped across the couch. It was a weird nerd cave, but it was home to Drake, who put his bags on the table; it couldn’t really be considered specifically a kitchen or dining room table, as it was the only table, and unzipped his duffel bag.

"Obviously I uh, don't have any food, but we can get some pizza or Chinese, do you want some Pep? I probably still have half a case in the fridge..."

Launchpad tread carefully as he entered, putting the suitcase down slowly by the door. He had been to temples and ancient burial sites but this somehow felt even more like sacred ground. He gazed around at the posters, noting that several were limited edition and nearly impossible to find online. After several seconds of looking around in awe he realized that Drake had asked him a question and he looked at him blankly, blinking several times.

"I uh...yeah, sure! Sorry, it's just..." His eyes lit up. "Your place is so cool! Is that the original promo poster for the Darkwing Duck video game?! They only printed like 25 copies!"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, good eye! My pre-order got cancelled, but they had one on display at the game shop, so I actually convinced one of the employees to sell it to me!"

He pulled a Pep from the fridge and cracked it open, passing it to Launchpad before returning to his bags to begin unpacking his laundry.

"In the bedroom I have the holo version of the season 2 premiere poster, you know, that event where they showed it in theaters? I had to go eight times before they gave me the holo one! It's my favorite one."

"You went to the showing eight times?! That's so...so...awesome! Do you think I could...take a look at it once you've finished unpacking?" He took a sip of the Pep and glanced at what he assumed to be the bedroom door (as the bathroom door was open and it was the only other door in the apartment).

“Oh, where are my hosting manners? Make yourself comfortable! Have a look around if you want! I've got some take out menus on the fridge, if you're hungry for dinner before it gets too late, we should order soon though--" Drake explained as he pulled out a laundry basket from the bedroom and dumped a bunch of his dirty laundry from his luggage into it. He stopped when he saw the Darkwing Duck costume amongst the dirty laundry, and reverently lifted it out of his bag. He’d been able to get away with keeping it since the movie had been cancelled, a sort of memento for the brief time when his dream had been real. 

"It gets kind of... dangerous out here at night," he finished.

"Sounds like this town could really use a hero..." Launchpad answered half-heartedly, admiring a shelf of Darkwing Duck figurines. He glanced side-long at Drake. "One who would never give up on them, even if it was dangerous."

"Yeah.... Saint Canard is kind of a mess. Shame Darkwing Duck isn't real, huh?" Drake couldn’t help but laugh a little sadly, shaking his head. "That would be cool."

"Yeah. It would be pretty awesome." He sighed and picked up a few takeout menus, holding them up and offering Drake a smile. It was indeed clear exactly what sort of bachelor life Drake lived, not that he was judging, or disliked it.

"Well, then, what do you think? Chinese or pizza? My treat! After all, you're letting me crash here for the night, it's the least I can do~"

"You know what? I could go for a cheese pizza! Unless you want to get toppings? We'll have to go back down and up all the stairs too." He folded up the costume, leaving it on the table as he continued to unpack, while Launchpad ordered the pizza, practically bouncing with excitement as he surveyed the almost museum-like collection of Darkwing Duck figures, toys, and general paraphernalia. "That's the spirit! Well, hang on to that enthusiasm LP, because training starts in about thirty minutes or it’s free!"

But Launchpad was still bouncing excitedly, gleefully looking around the small apartment. "So are you gonna give me the tour, or what?"

"Sure! Uhhh, welcome to my super-cool hideout! Wait, wait, wait, let me start over. I’ll make it exciting,” Drake stopped himself, clearing his throat.

He then slid over to the door, pretending he was talking to an imaginary documentary crew, as if he was being interviewed for the next big behind-the-scenes production.

"Welcome to my super secret lair, home of the mysterious Darkwing Duck! Here, you'll find the dining slash kitchen table, which currently uh, is where I’m unpacking."

He then slid dramatically over to the tiny kitchen, pretending to flourish a cape.

"And here is the place where I fuel up, making secret concoctions, mostly cereal or Mac and cheese. I am kind of, sort of, trying to learn to make smoke bombs too. Always rinse the coffee pot before you use it, it’s not just for coffee. Anyway!"

Side-stepping as to never turn his back on the imaginary camera crew, he then slid back into the living room space, posing.

"This is the super special lounge, and exhibit of memorabilia related to the terror that flaps in the night! I've got all the DVDs, even the banned episodes, and script binders! They’re labelled and highlighted, and there’s a shelf of the comics in order by release date over here.” 

With a quick few more steps, the actor led Launchpad into the bedroom, turning around with a grand gesture. “And this is uh, the resting place! The bedroom is where I dream up clever schemes and plans to thwart evil! Also here's a shelf of my favorite toys and action figures. There’s also a bathroom over here to the right. Thanks for coming to my tour, if you wish to exit please do so through the gift shop, and thanks for visiting!"

Launchpad oooh'd and aaah'd appropriately, clapping his hands and cheering genuinely at the impressive collection of memorabilia. He paused at a shelf that held several framed pictures and picked one up. It was a signed portrait of Jim Starling, the now-deceased original actor for Darkwing Duck. He sighed, holding it up.

"You know, I never did get that autograph. I kept fainting every time I met him...that probably seems pretty silly, huh?"

Drake could understand totally choking up upon meeting your hero though. He’d almost told Jim he wanted to keep him in a jar in his closet! That would have been SUPER weird! "You can have it, if you want. You always went to the signings; you were his biggest fan. He was my hero, but I feel like I somehow let him down... in the end, you know? You deserve it."

Launchpad looked at him in shock. He held the picture out like it was a forbidden artifact that he had snatched off of a pedestal.

"No, I couldn't! I mean...it's not like you can get another one and... besides, if anyone let him down it was me." He frowned at the picture sadly.

"Nah! Take it! I have a massive collection. And you tried to do right by him until the end. That's all anybody can ask. I bet that's all one could ask of a hero."

"Drake I... I don't know what to say... “ He took the frame and retreated to the living room, where he sat with it on the couch, tears suddenly threatening at his eyes as he lamented the fateful encounter they had with Jim. As far as they knew, he was gone. "He said I was his sidekick that day. I should have done more, I should have seen it, I wrote all those fics, why couldn't I get through to him when it mattered?”

Drake lingered in the doorway for a moment, pacing over to sit down on the couch next to him. He hesitated, but then put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "I don't know, but you tried, right? In the moment, maybe... I don't know... he saw the stars, and the glory of being a star again, and it blinded him. We'll never know now. It stung, not having that closure, but he’s gone now. Life doesn’t always have that closure. The best we can do is get back up.'"

Launchpad sat up, tears just starting to prick at his eyes, and opened his mouth to say something but he was interrupted by an 8-bit version of the Darkwing Duck theme song. His ringtone. He dug it out of his pocket, sniffled, and answered it.

The pizza was downstairs. Twelve flights down and back. Not that either of them expected any delivery guy to make that ascent. He hung up the phone and wiped his eyes on his sleeve, glancing at Drake apologetically. "The uh, the pizza's here. Ready for training?"

Drake shot him a thumbs up. "Gotta make it back before it gets cold!"

This earned him a small grin. Launchpad picked up the frame carefully, running his thumb over it and placing it on the coffee table like a sacred object before standing up. "That sounds like a challenge. Do you think we're up for it?"

Drake cracked his knuckles and grabbed the lanyard with his keys off of a hook next to the door. "Let's go!"

Reinvigorated by Drake’s passion, Launchpad nodded, a look of determination set on his face. He raised his arm and pointed toward the stairs. "For the pizza!"

Locking the door behind them, Drake jogged after him, then bounded over the railing of the stairs at the landing, landing halfway down to the floor below. He did a completely unnecessary little flourish, passing by Launchpad after his second jump down. "Ha-hah! Come on, LP!"

Launchpad stared after him for half a moment in surprise, then laughed loudly, taking the steps two at a time to catch up. "Right behind you!"

"Awesome! You got this! See you at the bottom!" Drake’s voice echoed up the stairwell. 

He rushed down the stairs, enjoying his usual tricks, but it really did feel different having someone to share them with. Something about rushing down a cement stairwell flooded with jarring fluorescent lights, not being so alone while just being goofy and theatrical, sliding down the banister and playing hero.

Was he just being an overgrown kid? Maybe, but at the same time, he didn't feel like Launchpad judged him for it. If anything, Launchpad indulged him. It was comforting.

Behind him, Launchpad skidded down the last step, stumbled, and crashed into the wall at the bottom of the stairwell, rubbing his head. "Ah, didn't quite stick the landing. You make it look so easy!"

"Years of practice! I spent a lot of time uh, trying to copy all the moves from the show and in the comics. You don't think it's cheesy?"

"What? No! It's super cool! You've definitely got the moves down. No wonder they cast you in that movie! You move just like the real thing!" Launchpad wasn’t trying to butter Drake up, either. He really did think it was awesome. If there was someone cut out for the role of that daring duck of mystery, he knew it was Drake Mallard.

He paid for the pizza, tipping the Pizza Planet delivery duck well, noting with some pride that the boxes were warm. He grinned at Drake and hefted them. "Still warm! Mission successful!"

Drake was a little glad that Launchpad was busy focusing on the pizza when a blush of embarrassment dusted his cheeks. It truly was a high compliment. "Not yet! It'll be a success if we make it back up before it gets cold!"

He nodded, handing one of the boxes to Drake and straightening his cap. "Let's do this." 

Launchpad was careful not to tip the box over as he leapt up the stairs; taking them two, sometimes three at a time, pausing at the first landing to lean against the bannister and catch his breath. How many times a day did Drake do this? He really must be in shape!

Beside him, Drake tried to keep the box level as he bounded up the stairs, skipping every other step. Maybe their cheesy reward would be all that much sweeter if they earned it. Twelve flights of stairs sweeter. Well, not sweeter, tastier, probably! Endurance training felt so much better with Launchpad here. When they finally made it back to the top, he could feel his calves burning and his breath was ragged as he unlocked the door. "That was... a rush! Oh man, let me get us some Pep, that really was some endurance training!"

"Haha, yeah! We really earned this pizza!" He set it down on the table and opened it, checking to make sure it had survived the trip. "And look! Still warm, even! We definitely need a round of victory Pep!"

Drake obliged, fetching some plates from the kitchen and served them both pizza and Pep, then flopped back down on the couch. "You know, I uh, I owe you a thank you for bringing me home, but also for coming up here with me..."

He stared into his soda for a minute, watching the bubbles float to the surface from the bottom of the can.

"Not to be melodramatic, but I mean, I'm sort of coming back from Duckburg a loser. I thought I was getting out of this city. I got really lucky at an audition for the movie. McDuck enterprises didn't want to pay a big name actor. It was actually my first part. My debut. I tried my hand at being Darkwing for real with the Moonlander invasion, but I was totally in over my head. Out of my league.” He laughed a little, but there was a sad tone to it. 

“I was at that big earth defense meeting, and I didn’t know any of those people, but still! I stuck to the plan, even helped Scrooge break into his own house with my extra cool stealth skills, and I got the snot beat out of me! Not that I haven’t trained myself to handle it, it was a wake up call.  I wanted to inspire people! Make a difference! And Duckburg already has that Gizmoduck to save the day, and it’s not like hero work will pay the bills. I’m just... I haven't really been able to keep a steady job since, so I was coming home kinda... low on funds, and you know, just back to being that weird nerd that nobody likes."

Nobody likes...? Launchpad had to refute that part! "You're kidding! You've gotta be the most likable guy I've ever met, and I know tons of guys!" He took a bite of his pizza, chewing thoughtfully. He swallowed and took a swig of his Pep before tilting his head at Drake.

 "There aren't any jobs here in St. Canard you could do? You've got a great skill set!"

"Well, I'll probably go back to uhhh, well, my last job. Clerking at the comic shop. It's not heroic, but it got me this place." He shrugs. "Actually, you're really cool. You're a pilot! And you wrote my favorite fics, you know so much about DW lore, and you ended up not being a total snob like a lot of the comic fans are! Your fics really.... kept me going too. So yeah. Thanks."

"It... really meant that much to you?" Launchpad was truly touched. His fanfiction had helped him work out his own stress; he'd never dreamed it would help anyone else! Nobody had ever even bothered to read it before. At least, nobody he'd met in person.

"Say, I know you don't want to do the hero thing for real, but why don't you put the costume on, just for tonight? We can watch some of our favorite episodes, enjoy the heck out of this pizza, and just really live up the good times before you gotta get back to your regular day to day! What do you say? One more night in the cape, just to honor Jim's memory?"

Drake considered this, then glanced to the picture on the table and nodded. "Yeah... we can... say goodbye to him together." 

Launchpad pumped his fists in the air and cheered. "Yes! A victory for justice! Go get changed, quick! The night is yet young!"

He gathered the costume from the table, and retreated to the bedroom to change. Something felt different this time.

Like it was... heavier.

There wasn’t a way to describe the feeling, but he knew that it wasn’t the same as dressing up as he always had. He paused, staring down himself in the mirror before tying the mask. Maybe it really was that he hadn't really had a chance to say goodbye to Jim.

His hero.

He took up the hat, wrapping the cape around his shoulders as he snuck back to the doorway.

"I am the terror that flaps in the night! I am the ugly ingrown toenail on the foot of crime! I am Darkwing Duck!"

Launchpad watched him go, then settled back into the couch with a sigh, picking up the framed picture that Drake had given him and giving it a long, hard look. Jim was gone. There wasn't anything that could bring his hero, the original Darkwing Duck, back to life. But even so...

Drake was so GOOD at being Darkwing! He was a natural at it! He was brave and resilient and never gave up, no matter how many times he was knocked down. Why couldn't he see it? Nobody else would ever be able to fill Jim's shoes like that.

Oh well, it wasn’t as though he could force him to be a hero. At least he was lucky enough to hang out with him tonight. He looked up as he, the terror himself, appeared in the doorway and felt his heart tugged even harder as his thoughts manifested before him. He grinned broadly.

"Nice dramatic entrance! You really are the spitting image of the man himself!"

Breaking character, Drake beamed at the compliment. "Really? If only we just had some smoke bombs! Or how about this!"

He struck a pose.

"I am the terror that flaps in the night! I am the untitled extra fee on your credit card bill! I am Darkwiiiing Duck!"

Launchpad laughed. "That's great! Oh! Wait a minute...." He patted his jacket, then reached into his chest pocket, pulling out a handful of tiny smoke bombs.

"I almost forgot! Webby makes all of us carry a handful of these for...uhhh...tactical purposes."

He handed them to Drake, grinning, then sat back on the couch, watching eagerly. "Go on, do another!"

"You just carry around smoke bombs? I need to know more about your adventures sometime! Okay, okay, just a second!" He rushed back out of the room, then entered with a burst of smoke and a flourish.

"I am the terror that flaps in the night! I am the permanent marker on the whiteboard of crime! I am Darkwiiing Duck!"

Launchpad watched him, wide-eyed, and absolutely enraptured. This was a thousand times better than any movie. It was like his hero had come to life right before his eyes. "Incredible!"

"Was that a good one? I have a whole list actually... I wrote down a bunch. I am the puddle that soaks your sock, I am the pebble in the shoe, the Lego on the carpet, an awful lot of feet related ones for some reason... "

"Dude..." He took a long sip of his Pep and then set it on the coffee table before leveling his gaze at Drake evenly, as though he had some sage wisdom to impart. "Show. Me. All. Of. Them."

"All of them? Uh, sure! I don't want to waste all your smoke bombs, hold on... let me uh..."

He shuffled a bit, gathering his cape back up in an awkward attempt to reset. "I am the terror that flaps in the night! I am the rash from the wool sweater you got for Christmas! I am Darkwing Duck!"

He repeated this several times, trying new poses and catch phrases, many of which he created himself. "What about you? Got any requests?"

"Oh! What about that one from the Halloween special with Quackerjack? Remember that episode, the two-parter? I always loved that one, DW's big entrance always stuck with me, where he bursts out of the pumpkin..."

"Oh! Oh! Okay, hold on! Let me eh, get the entrance ready," Drake climbed over the couch awkwardly, pausing to straighten his hat, then popped up dramatically, holding out his cape like giant purple and pink wings.

"I am the terror that flaps in the night! I am the trick amidst the treats of villainy! I am! Darkwiiiing Duck!" He stood on the back of the couch dramatically, then sank into the seat next to Launchpad, balling his fists excitedly. Despite the fact that they were just playing around, he couldn’t stop grinning. "This is so much fun! Oh my gosh! What else do you wanna do?"

"Should we put on some episodes? Or we could play a few rounds of the Darkwing Duck video game? Or...oh, do you have a copy of the live action Japanese adaptation they did? I heard it was terrible but I've never seen it..." He rubbed the back of his head and grinned sheepishly. "Honestly I feel like anything we do will be...right."

This prompted Drake to bounce off of the couch and rummage through a box near the TV until he pulled out a VHS and a three ring binder. "Oh! You've never seen the live action? I have a bootleg! It's recorded off of TV in Japan though, so there's commercials for lotion and Pocky and video games on watches in the middle, also there's no subtitles, but I printed out a copy of an online fan translation of the script we could follow along from?"

Drake continued. "It's kind of weird, they tried to add extra lore, like an angsty backstory and a samurai warrior daughter, and at one point he gets reverse-shrunk, not enlarged, mind you, reverse-shrunk, and has a fist fight with not-Gojira… literally, it’s called Gojira-janai...still, it’s kinda fun? It’s fun to watch, and I don’t know, I just like it..." He caught himself in the middle of his ramble, not sure if he was being over the top or not. He just really, really loved Darkwing Duck, and he was beyond elated to have someone to share it with.

Launchpad smiled and grabbed another slice of pizza, settling back into the couch with a huge grin still plastered on his face. "That sounds absolutely perfect."

He took a bite of the pizza, then was about to ask Drake about the story of where he recorded the bootleg from when the lights went out, plunging the apartment into darkness. He swallowed his bite of pizza and set the slice down, squinting in what little dim light from the street shone through the window. "Or we could do it in the dark too. Nice. Atmospheric."

Drake shuffled around in the dark for his phone for a few seconds, before grabbing it and turning on the flashlight. "Ugh, I bet a fuse blew. There's a circuit breaker on the roof, but if it did, the electric fob lock on the roof door isn't going to work, either. I usually just climb the fire escape at this hour to get it...." He pocketed his phone before making his way to the window, pushing it open. "Hey, do you mind giving me a boost?"

"Sure thing!" Launchpad followed him to the window, where he easily lifted Drake up, boosting him until he could find footing. "How's that?"

"Whoa, yeah, hold on!" Drake wobbled for a second, carefully pushing his feet up onto Launchpad’s shoulders, taking care not to kick him in the face as he pulled himself up and reached as far as he could onto the roof. Extending his arms upward, he managed to grab one of the decorative iron bars that lined the roof.

"Okay... let's try…” Hoisting himself, Drake practically tumbled over the edge and into the bushes of the tiny garden on the rooftop. He felt the squelch of the wet mulch and soft vegetables giving way beneath his weight. "Ow, sorry Mrs. Parker... I might be squashing your zucchinis..." He grumbled.

Launchpad leaned halfway out of the window, looking up anxiously. "Be careful! Uh..." He looked around briefly, then back up. "What should I do? Do you need help?"

"Uh, maybe? It sounds like there's somebody up here...nobody ever comes up here at night." He got up, dusting off the dirt and leaves, awkwardly trying to climb out of the tiny garden. He could hear an odd buzzing and crackling of electricity, and see a soft blue glow around the corner. A bunch of thick cables were stretched across the roof, connecting the building to both the adjacent ones.

That sounded worrying. Launchpad wasn't about to let his new friend face some unknown danger alone! He climbed out onto the windowsill, gauging the distance carefully before leaping up onto the fire escape and grabbing onto it.

Luckily, he caught it.

Unluckily, his weight was too much for the rusty old bolts that secured the metal to the crumbling apartment building, and they were twelve floors up. As it slowly creaked its way away from the building he did the only thing he could think of and jumped onto the thick wire that dangled from the roof and shimmied up it, watching as the fire escape crashed to the ground below. As he hauled himself over the ledge to safety, completely out of breath, the wire came loose, slipping out of his grasp and sliding off the roof. He watched it wriggle over the edge like an irate serpent and turned to Drake, shrugging at him and gesturing over his shoulder.

"I hope that wasn't anything important."

Drake glanced back, noticing that the lights in the building next door flickered back on. "Well uh, if it fell that easy, maybe it wasn't all that safe... talk about getting dangerous!” But the lights came on after the wire was unplugged? That part was a bit strange. 

 An irritated, nasally voice that he didn't recognize piped up. "Who's there? What do you want?"

"Who are you, and what are you doing on the roof?" Drake shot back, pulling some stray leaves off of his hat. He felt a little silly, fumbling around here in the dark, still dressed up as Darkwing Duck, but everything about this whole situation was a little silly.

After all, a strange rat had erected? Built? Placed? A massive machine on the roof of his apartment building, and was now standing in front of it, silhouetted by the blue light of the electricity crackling off of the top of it. 

He sort of resembled a supervillain.

"I asked you first!"

"I asked you second! But um, if you really want an introduction!" It was cheesier than the pizza they were eating earlier, but Drake decided he might as well confront him Darkwing Duck style. It could be fun! He slid into the light with a flourish, just as he had practiced hundreds of times. "I am the terror that flaps in the night! I am the freak storm that soaks your clean laundry! I am Darkwing Duck!"

"Darka whosa?" The stranger sputtered. "Like the... superhero?"

"Well, uh, not important! What is important is that you're stealing an awful lot of power, for that uh... why are you stealing power? Is that what you’re doing?  And on this side of town? Really? I mean, it’s kind of a weird place to set up your weird machine..." He cleared his throat. Now, this was awkward. 

Launchpad got up and brushed himself off, hurrying to Drake's side. "Yeah! You tell'em, DW!" He added. He leaned over toward him slightly and whispered "Nice entrance!" and gave him a sly thumbs up before addressing the mysterious figure before them.

"You can't just go around stealing power from innocent townspeople! Just who do you think you are, anyway?"

"I am Megavolt! Saint Canard's most dangerous supervillain! And I can steal from whoever I want to power my nefarious devices!"

"Yeah, that seems pretty standard supervillain fare--wait, what!” Drake stopped abruptly. Really? Megavolt? He couldn’t even hide his surprise. “Megavolt? Like the actual comic supervillai-- I mean, no! It sounds like your scheme has some real voltage drop!"

"You're really new to this punny banter, huh."

"I've uh, yeah this is the first time-- uh… give me some material to work with here."

“A monologue? Yeah, I can do one--” The one who called himself Megavolt cleared his throat. “This is a super-generator! It’s my own invention, better than a generator, I call it the Zapp-O-Tronic! It converts electricity to a compressed state, which I will use to bring appliances to life, and they will take over the city, rebelling against their masters! Too long, they have been oppressed, and the war of the machines will be upon us! Mwahahahaha!!-ahem, yeah.”

Drake was trying to draw the conversation out to fill time, looking around the roof for anything he could use. He didn't actually know how to face off with a supervillain!

Launchpad caught sight of a large, ominous-looking switch labeled "POLARITY", which gave him an idea. He nudged Drake and nodded subtly toward the switch.

"You got any more of those smoke bombs left? Why don't you make another dramatic entrance? I was thinking you could try...episode thirty-two?" He winked at him and smiled.

"Oh?” Drake blinked at him blankly for a second, before it dawned on him. “Oh yeah!"

He flicked the smoke bomb and rolled it over towards the villain, where it burst in a cloud of blue smoke. He pulled the cape close to his shoulders, creeping through the cloud while Megavolt coughed, throwing the switch. He tried to unplug one of the cords, but it zapped him, sending a shockwave of electricity though his body, leaving his fingertips vibrating, and he coughed out a tiny black ring.

"They make it look so much easier on TV," He grumbled, steadying himself on his feet, wobbling but not quite falling over.

"Ha! You didn't accomplish anything! Watch, I'll show you the might of my electrifying Zapp-O-Tronic!"

But Megavolt didn't get to finish his grandiose announcement after turning the ON key, as with a loud hum the machine powered up and burst into a cloud of sparks, smoke, and debris, sending everyone flying.

"I've got to stop putting Reverse switches on thiiiingss!!" Megavolt shouted as he was blown away by the shockwave in a cartoonish arc that sent him flying. 

The crash was loud, but no one in the surrounding area seemed to respond to it. Somewhere below a car alarm was blaring, but it sounded faint after the volume of the small explosion.

The night air fell still, a gentle breeze blowing across the rooftops.

Drake wasn't sure how long he was unconscious on the concrete roof, he hoped only a few seconds had passed. The world slowly blurred back to reality, and he coughed, sitting up slowly. The lights were back on in the surrounding buildings, and as he realized this, he rushed to his feet.

"Launchpad! LP! Hey buddy, you okay?"

Launchpad coughed, sitting up slowly and rubbing his head. "Oof, now that's what I call a crash landing. Hey, what happened?! Did we win?"

"Wow, you actually pulled it off! You're a real hero! Ow...." He put a hand to his head. It felt sort of wobbly.

"I think we did? That was great thinking! But what about you? Are you okay?"

He extended a hand to help Launchpad up. He was scratched up and a bit singed, but smiling.

"Yeah, I think so? I've crashed harder than that before and walked it off..." Launchpad stood up, a little worse for wear but still in one piece and smiling broadly, all beaming with fanboy pride. "Can we believe we just fought off a real supervillain? He had puns and everything!"

"I know, right? That was sooooo cool! Snappy banter and a big explosion and everything! Wow! Wow!" Despite the fact that they had probably both just narrowly avoided serious concussions, and only luck prevented them from causing serious property damage, he was bouncing excitedly. "That was the coolest!"

" You're the coolest!" Launchpad put his hand on Drake's shoulder and looked out over the city. St. Canard lay beneath a blanket of moonlight, a dazzling peppering of lights twinkling beneath them.

"Look at it, Drake. A whole city in need of a hero. You could be that hero! Who knows how many villains are lurking out there in the darkness, with no terror to flap in the night?"

He gazed out at the city lights, shaking some ash off of his hat. It was his home. "I.... you really think so? You really think we could make Darkwing Duck... real? "

"I think you've already made him real to me. Now you just have to share him with the rest of the world. Or at least...with the city. Keep St. Canard safe. Keep Jim's legacy alive, and even better, create your own. After all, that's what a hero would do, right?"

Drake watched the lights of cars below them, and the shifting lights of neon signs and billboards in the distance. He turned to look at Launchpad, surprised, hopeful, and his heart awash with confusing emotions.

"Thank you... I think that means a lot. I... I'll try. You're right. Heh. Just like those cool speeches. The hope that flaps in the night, and always gets back up! Hope and justice are always worth fighting for!" He tried to pose again, and fell backwards, exhausted. "Okay, maybe...maybe after some first aid and some sleep."

"Yeah, hero work really takes it out of you..." Launchpad collapsed next to him and laid down, laughing as he gazed up at the stars. "Drake Mallard...never heard of him. Does make for a good secret identity, I’m just saying," He glanced his way, blushing in the darkness. "You know, this whole night has been...an adventure. The best adventure I've been on in a while."

"Yeah," Drake breathed a sigh of genuine relief. He gazed up at the stars, thanking them in his heart for this night. "But really? You’re sure about that? The best adventure? Better than exploring sunken pirate ships or crashing a plane in Tibet or any of that other stuff you've done? I mean, cement stairwells aren't as cool as booby trapped ancient temples..."

"They are when I'm with you…” He blushed deeper in the darkness as soon as the words left his mouth. "I mean, er, those adventures were...they weren't really my adventures. Those were Mr. McDee's or someone else's. But this...this is just for us. It's different. It's...special."

Drake immediately tried to swallow the emotions that bubbled up in his throat. They were overwhelming and sticky and confusing.

"Well you're um! You're welcome to stay a few days. Or however long. I mean, if you want! It would be cool to uh, have more adventures. Or something.” He swallowed, grateful the darkness hid the blush that was creeping up to his face. 

Launchpad was quiet for a moment, trying to process the swirling emotions that were battling inside of him. Finally, he took a deep breath, and after a long pause, he spoke.

"Uh, hey Drake, can I ask you something?"

"Sure, ask away," He answered, enjoying the moment.

He sat up slowly and looked around.

"I mean don't get me wrong, I'd love to stay for a while and I don't really have anything else going on right now so I'm totally free, but...uh...the thing is...how exactly are we going to get down off the roof?"

Drake’s eyes shot open and he stared at the sky for a long, horrified moment. "I mean... after I flip the breaker we can go back in through the regular hallway door, it’s sort of broken anyway, but then we have to go back down the hall to get back to my apartment..."

"All the way at the end, right?" Launchpad asked, shivering against the wind that blew between the surrounding buildings. Even with his thick jacket the roof was chilly. "It's a good thing the door wasn't jammed shut when that thing exploded, or we'd be in a real pickle, huh?"

"Yeah... haha, guess so," his companion mumbled, forcing himself to sit up, he dragged himself over to the breaker box. "Looks okay enough... I guess we both could use a shower and some sleep."

"Agreed. I think we've had enough danger for one night.” Launchpad answered, rubbing his head, which was still a bit sore, and put his arm around Drake, helping him to the door since he looked a bit unsteady. "Let's get...home for the night."

"Yeah... thanks."

As they made their way back down the hall, Drake prayed no one was awake. Partially because he didn't want to explain himself and partially because he had a feeling somebody might think he was a burglar. In front of his door, he fumbled through his pockets looking for his keys. He finally found them, and was partway through unlocking the door when the door to the left behind him creaked open.

 "Oh, Mr. Mallard, you're back."

He froze. It was a familiar old lady's voice.

"Yes, Mrs. Parker, I'm back."

"I hope you had lots of fun in Duckburg! Oh and you're dressed up! Is it Comic Con time again?"

 "Uh... it's almost time, yeah. This was a... a practice run."

"Oh, that's nice, dearie. You know, cousin Edgar loves Comic Con too! You should go with him this year..."

"Yes, Mrs. Parker, you know, it's awfully late, I'm just gonna go..."

He pushed the door open, ushering Launchpad inside.

"Okay, I'm growing some lovely zucchini on the roof, I'll bring over some frittata next time you have your Comic Con friends over."

"Yup, yup, yup, sounds great. Good Night, Mrs. Parker!" He slunk inside, closed the door, and locked it behind them, sinking down against it. "Sorry...about that..."

Launchpad chuckled. "She seemed nice enough."

He noticed how exhausted Drake was, slumped against the door, and he reached down, scooping him into his arms and carrying him into the bedroom. He was pretty tired himself, but first he carefully deposited Drake on his bed and took off his enormous purple hat, hanging it on the door handle to the closet.

As for Drake, being scooped up in Launchpad's arms, he was too tired to protest, and besides... he felt... safe. It was a comforting sort of safety, that he was vulnerable in that moment, but somehow everything would be okay. Once deposited on his bed, he blearily took off the cape and top half of his costume, pulling on a tee shirt from a pile of laundry that lay discarded nearby.

"Do you want me to bring you anything before I go and crash out on the couch? Anything at all?" Launchpad offered, lingering in the doorway.

"Mmmh, I'll be okay, thanks... you too. There's some blankets in the hall closet... you can get dangerously comfortable or something."

"I'll be just fine; I can crash anywhere. Trust me.”

True to his word, Launchpad crashed almost as soon as he hit the couch, even without blankets (he was far too exhausted to bother with them) and was soon sound asleep, sprawled over the cushions with his feet hanging off the side of the couch.