Chapter Text
****
St. Cannard …
The shadow of a lone figure loomed atop a high tower of the Audubon Bay Bridge.
The city where crime fears to tread …
A pair of glowing eyes caught the moonlight, focussed intently on the city far below.
The city whose streets are safe to roam …
With the swish of a cape, the figure was gone.
The city whose residents can sleep soundly in their beds …
Eyes shining and arms outstretched, the figure rose out of the darkness, fully illuminated by one of the tower’s brightly-lit windows.
‘Thanks to the diligent efforts of the daring, the dashing, the devilishly debonair Darkwing Duck!’
Darkwing held the heroic pose, his chest puffed out and his intense gaze trained downwards, always watchful, always alert and always ready.
The only response to his speech was the rumble of a lorry’s engine as it glided along the bridge-road. Darkwing’s eyes followed it until the glare of its headlights faded to nothing.
‘City of boredom.’ Instantly deflated, Darkwing sat down on the ledge and sighed, propping his head on one hand. ‘How am I supposed to be a crime‑fighter if there isn’t any crime to fight?’
‘Ah, don’t worry, DW.’ Launchpad, the relentlessly optimistic and persistently cheerful sidekick poked his head out of the window. ‘I bet there’ll be a huge robbery or a bank heist any minute.’
‘That would be nice,’ Darkwing said, but he doubted it.
There hadn’t been any major incidents to sink his teeth into for three whole days. That particular night had been especially uneventful, void of even the most casual jaywalker or the quietest of brief squabbles. It was already nearing two o’clock, and his watch was almost over but, yet again, he had nothing to report.
‘Come on, Launchpad.’ Darkwing stood up and stretched before casting one last hopeful glance at the city. There was no sudden flash of blue lights, no sirens peeling out of the silence, nothing whatsoever to suggest that anything was amiss. ‘We may as well call it a night.
He stepped through the open window and headed down a spiralling staircase.
‘Maybe there’ll be something on the scanner?’ Launchpad suggested, following Darkwing down the stairs. ‘Or we could take the Ratcatcher out and catch a criminal in the act?’
‘No, Launchpad.’ Darkwing said. ‘If anything was going to happen we would have heard about it by now.’
‘You never know,’ Launchpad went on. ‘Someone might be planning to rob the bank this very minute, or they could be about to break into the museum –’
‘What for?’ Darkwing spun around to face Launchpad, irritated. ‘The museum was closed last week for refurbishment and anything that’s worth stealing has been sent to some secure facility that even I don’t know about.’
‘Okay …’ Launchpad’s face fell slightly and Darkwing immediately regretted his outburst. ‘But the bank‑robbery could still happen.’
In spite of himself, Darkwing smiled and patted Launchpad’s shoulder.
‘I appreciate the enthusiasm, pal, I really do, and I’m sorry I snapped at you,’ he said truthfully and continued his journey down the stairs. ‘I just want to get out there again. I miss the hunt, the thrill of the chase, the epic showdown. I want to be the hero again, always prepared and ready for –’
‘Heads up!’
Caught by surprise, Darkwing only had time to glimpse the ball that was hurtling towards him before it hit him in the ribs and sent him tumbling backwards.
He landed in a heap on the floor, his eyes firmly closed, and hardly daring to breathe.
‘DW!’ Launchpad landed beside him. ‘Darkwing?’
‘Dad!’
Noting the panic in Gosalyn’s voice, Darkwing opened his eyes and carefully sat up, though his ribs severely protested the movement.
‘Are you alright?’ Gosalyn skated towards him
‘Yup …’ Darkwing grimaced, but he managed to get up with Launchpad’s help. ‘Perfectly … ow ‑ fine …’
Eyes still watering slightly, he tried to breathe, then folded his arms and glared down at the little red-headed miscreant in front of him.
‘Er …’ Gosalyn wrung the hockey-stick she was holding and offered him a sheepish sort of smile. ‘I did say heads up,’ she said. ‘You should’ve moved out of the way.’
‘Yeah,’ Launchpad chuckled. ‘She’s got a point there, DW.’
‘She does not have a point, Launchpad!’ Darkwing threw a warning glance at Launchpad and quickly returned his attention to Gosalyn. ‘If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times – you’re not to play your games in here! It’s too dangerous, and somebody could get hurt –’ He winced as pain shot down one side of his ribs again. ‘Most probably me.’
Gosalyn visibly shrank under his gaze. Her eyes were partially-shadowed by the helmet she was wearing, but Darkwing still caught the subtle flicker of her lashes. Both corners of her beak turned upwards, forming the hint of a smile, but not so much that she looked amused or too pleased with herself.
‘It was an accident,’ she said very quietly.
Darkwing quickly looked away, trying his best to resist, but he knew he had already forgiven her. He always did, even before she turned that angelic look on him.
‘I really am sorry, Dad.’
Giving in far too easily, Darkwing sighed, suddenly more annoyed with himself.
‘Well, just …’ He patted the top of her helmet. ‘Just try to be a little bit more careful, alright, sweetie?’
‘But I was just …’ Gosalyn stopped and blinked at Darkwing. ‘That’s it? You’re not … I mean …’ As Darwing raised an eyebrow, her face lit up with a grin. ‘Sure, Dad.’
Gosalyn immediately swept towards the abandoned hockey-ball, but Darkwing caught her again as something else occurred to him.
‘One more thing, little Missy.’ Darkwing lifted her off the ground, so their eyes met. ‘What are you even doing here?’ he asked. ‘Aren’t you supposed to be at home? In bed?’
‘Oh …’ Gosalyn laughed nervously, though she made no attempt to free herself. ‘Well, I … it’s Friday,’ she said brightly. ‘The weekend, so no school in the morning.’
‘And it’s late,’ Darkwing hissed, glancing at his watch. ‘It’s way past your bedtime, you’ve got a hockey-match in the morning, and if you don’t get enough sleep, you’ll be too cranky to –’
‘Hey, I’m never cranky!’
‘Don’t argue with me, Gosalyn, otherwise …’ Darkwing trailed into silence and bit back his promise to ground her for the weekend.
The hockey‑match was important to Gosalyn and she had promised to be good, if only she would be allowed to play that weekend. In return, Drake had been trying very hard not to lose his temper with her that week. Not only had he agreed to let her start the week with a clean record, he had also been lenient when she had smashed her piggy‑bank and one of his favourite mugs with her hockey-stick, and when she had raced across the freshly-mopped kitchen floor wearing muddy skates, and when she had been given a detention for ‘accidentally’ letting a stray cat into the school’s science-lab. Even when Mr. Hamton from two streets away had presented him with a bill for his shed’s broken window, Drake had remained perfectly calm, had only yelled for five minutes and, although he had sent Gosalyn up to her room, he hadn’t grounded her. With just a few more hours to get through, he had no intention of grounding her and ruining her chances of playing in the hockey-match for the minor crime of being out of bed after midnight … and playing hockey in the Tower … and nearly breaking his ribs …
‘Alright, let’s just …’ He placed Gosalyn back on her feet, but he took her hand. ‘We’re going home and you’re going back to bed,’ he said firmly. ‘Now.’
‘Aw …’ Gosalyn groaned under her breath, but didn’t try to let go of his hand. ‘I never get to have any –’
‘Heads up!’
‘What?’
Darkwing looked back at Launchpad and just had time to push Gosalyn out of the way before the Flashquack hit him in the stomach and sent him flying backwards. For the second time that night, he landed in a heap, eyes closed, and barely daring to breathe.
‘Dad?’
His hat was lifted away and he peered up at Gosalyn.
‘Are you okay?’ she asked.
‘I did say heads up,’ Launchpad said, crouching beside Darkwing.
‘Thanks for the warning,’ Darkwing muttered. He sat up, only for something heavy to drop onto his head and bounce into his lap. ‘Ow!’ He glared up at the Flashquack, which was hovering patiently above him, then picked up the little glass vial that had fallen into his lap. ‘What’s this?’
The vial was tightly sealed with some sort of wax, and it was filled with a pale pink substance that shimmered when he held it up to the light.
‘Look, there’s a message.’ Launchpad said, taking a piece of paper from the Flashquack’s beak. ‘Or two messages,’ he added as another, smaller piece of paper fluttered down to rest comfortably on Darkwing’s beak.
Impatiently snatching the paper from his beak, Darkwing unfolded it.
There were only two words printed in a large, bold font.
He frowned, utterly bemused.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ he asked
He stood up, holding the vial towards the light once again, waiting for something to happen, but the gel‑like liquid was fairly unremarkable.
‘What’s what supposed to mean?’ Gosalyn asked. ‘Come on, Dad, what is it?’
‘It’s a genie,’ Launchpad answered before Darkwing could say anything.
‘What?’ Gosalyn instantly turned to Launchpad. ‘A real genie?’
‘Give me that!’ Darkwing snatched the other piece of paper from Launchpad’s hand and shook his head before reading the message.
‘Beware!
‘This vial contains a powerful being.
‘Captured and trapped by SHUSH, this evil genie has been placed under your supervision.
‘Handle with extreme care and lock away in your most secure vault.
‘Positively do not open and certainly do not break!’
Darkwing snorted, though he was all the more bemused.
‘Is it really a genie?’ Gosalyn asked and Darkwing rolled his eyes.
‘It’s what it says,’ Launchpad answered. ‘But it’s evil – it says dangerous being –’
‘Keen gear!’ Gosalyn suddenly made a grab for the bottle. ‘Let me make a wish, Dad! Can I –’
‘Na‑ah‑ah!’ Darkwing staggered away from Gosalyn, but caught her arm as she tried to snatch the bottle again. ‘Didn’t you hear?’ he asked. ‘It’s dangerous.’
‘But I know more about evil beings than anyone,’ Gosalyn answered, almost smacking Darkwing’s beak with her hockey‑stick. ‘Come on, just let me –’
‘Absolutely not!’ Darkwing snapped, still trying to fight her off.
‘Your dad’s right, Gosalyn,’ Launchpad said, and he casually stepped in between them both. ‘What if it burns a hole in your brain or something?’
‘Oh, come on, Launchpad.’ Gosalyn snorted, clearly unimpressed. ‘Genies don’t burn brains. They do really neat stuff like granting wishes – how evil could that be?’
‘We’re not going to find out,’ Darkwing answered, putting the glass vial and the two sheets of paper into his pocket, out of Gosalyn’s reach.
‘But, Dad –’
‘I said no.’
Gosalyn immediately closed her beak, but continued to pout at Darkwing. Refusing to let her break him down again, Darkwing covered his eyes for a moment.
‘You never let me do anything,’ Gosalyn muttered.
‘Well, what I say goes,’ Darkwing answered wearily and shook himself. ‘And what I say now, as that we’re all going home, and you’re going back to bed,’ he said and headed off towards the elevator. ‘Come on.’
In complete silence, Gosalyn followed him. Once they were all in the elevator, she stared firmly at the ground, her beak clenched tightly shut. Darkwing exchanged a glance with Launchpad, who simply shrugged, but said nothing.
As they walked along the corridor, the silence only lengthened. Darkwing desperately wanted to say something to Gosalyn, but he too remained quiet. He hated it when she was upset, but he knew he would hate it even more if she got herself into so much trouble that she couldn’t get out of it.
Reaching the armchairs, Darkwing sat down, instinctively leaving enough room for Gosalyn. She paused, but sniffed contemptuously and climbed onto the other chair with Launchpad, though she had to perch on the arm.
Darkwing tapped the nearby button and the chair threw him into their ordinary living‑room. The light was on and Darkwing immediately noticed all of the tracks running through the carpet, which told him that Gosalyn had been skating in the house, but he chose to overlook it for once.
They had argued enough for one night.
‘Gosalyn …’
Already halfway towards the stairs, Gosalyn stopped. For a second, Darkwing thought she was just going to walk away, but she slowly turned to face him.
‘Look …’ Darkwing knelt down to her level. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘You just need to understand that you can’t get involved with everything. Some things are just too dangerous for you, and if you got hurt …’
He shuddered at the very thought of it, but Gosalyn didn’t seem to be moved by the sentiment.
‘But I only wanted to look,’ she reasoned. ‘You just don’t want me to do anything.’
‘Yes, I do.’ Darkwing insisted, a little wounded by the notion. ‘But I want you to do stuff that kids are supposed to do.’ He chucked slightly and, although he wanted to pull her into his arms, he settled for resting his hand on her shoulder. ‘Kids aren’t supposed to meddle with criminals and evil beings and monsters,’ he said. ‘What if something happened to you? I’d never be able to forgive myself.’
Gosalyn tilted her head on one side, thinking it through.
‘Okay.’ She leaned forwards, letting Darkwing hug her properly. ‘I promise I’ll try not to meddle with any monsters.’
‘That’s my good girl,’ Darkwing answered, relieved. ‘Now …’ He quickly pulled her onto his lap and began to remove her skates. ‘You go and get some sleep – you’ve got a big day tomorrow.’
‘Yeah!’ Gosalyn leapt to her feet, beaming at him. ‘Night, Dad.’
‘Night, sweetie.’ He stood up and shepherded her towards the stairs. ‘Straight to sleep.’
‘Night, Launchpad!’ Gosalyn clattered up the stairs, slammed her bedroom door, and everything fell quiet.
Letting out a sigh of relief, Darkwing fell onto the sofa.
‘Ah, cheer up, DW,’ Launchpad said. ‘She’ll forget all about that genie by the morning.’
‘Maybe …’ Darkwing looked at Launchpad, who was busy taking his boots off. ‘Do you think I was a bit hard on her?’ he asked. ‘She did seem a bit upset.’
‘Well, she’d be even more upset if she got on the wrong side of an evil genie, wouldn’t she?’
Darkwing groaned despairingly.
‘Launchpad …’ he dug one of the messages out of his pocket and held it out to Launchpad, who stared at it blankly for a second before realisation covered his face.
‘Oh …’ Launchpad smirked and checked his watch. ‘I didn’t think of that.’
‘Maybe I should’ve just told Gosalyn the truth,’ Darkwing said. ‘But it’s still SHUSH business, and she shouldn’t get involved with it.’
‘There you are, then,’ Launchpad answered. ‘She’s got to learn, so you did the right thing.’
‘Hmph.’ Darkwing grimaced, picturing Gosalyn on the brink of tears. ‘It never feels like the right thing.’
‘Nah, you’re doing fine,’ Launchpad assured him. ‘It’s okay to be the bad guy sometimes – it just means you care.’
Darkwing raised a cynical eyebrow at Launchpad.
‘Really?’
‘Sure,’ Launchpad shrugged. ‘If you didn’t care so much, you’d let her do anything she wanted, even if it meant letting her get hurt.’
‘Yeah …’ Darkwing nodded appreciatively. ‘Thanks, Launchpad.’
‘Any time, DW.’
A little happier, Darkwing pulled himself to his feet and stretched.
‘Well, on that note, I’m going to bed,’ he said and yawned. ‘Night, LP.’
‘Aren’t you going to take your uniform back to the Tower?’ Launchpad asked.
‘Oh yeah …’ Darkwing hesitated, but shook his head. ‘It’s fine – I’ll take it back tomorrow.’
‘Okay, then – night.’
Waving in response, Darkwing headed upstairs. He peered into Gosalyn’s room, listening to her quiet snores for a few seconds before he shuffled into his own room. Checking his watch, he turned the page of his calendar over – a new day had officially begun over two hours ago.
April 1st …
‘Oh, of course,’ he muttered and, once more, read the sheet of paper he had just shown Launchpad.
The words April Fools! stared back at him.
‘Evil genie – ha!’ He crumbled up the paper and, flicking it over his shoulder, he heard it drop into the wastepaper basket. ‘Nice try, Gryzlikoff, but you can’t pull that one on Darkwing Duck.’
Still … considering Gosalyn and Launchpad had both fallen for it, he had to admit that it wasn’t a bad effort for a grouchy old agent who did everything by the book.
Darkwing changed into a clean nightshirt and crawled gratefully into bed. As he settled down, he couldn’t help a soft snort of amusement.
‘April Fools to you too, Griz,’ he muttered. ‘April Fools to you too.’