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Heroes are no stranger to capture. Even the best crusader for justice will occasionally hit a slight snag and temporarily (always temporarily!) fall into the clutches of evil. Generally speaking, it was hardly even a bump in the road. The path to justice would always be swiftly cleared.
Though it would be swifter, if Darkwing weren’t dealing with the most irritating “teammate” this side of Quackerjack.
“Cads and ruffians!” Gizmoduck’s voice echoed hollowly around the too-big lair. “Release myself and my associate before I am forced to subdue you with… with, well, force!”
Darkwing rolled his eyes. “Such mastery of the English language. You must write poetry.”
Darkwing knew they would get out of here. If nothing else, he had a backup plan. Launchpad was supposed to call Negaduck out with the Thunderquack if they didn’t return before… well, Darkwing didn’t know how long they had been unconscious before waking up in Negaduck’s death trap, but the deadline would probably be soon. Then either Darkwing would have already escaped, or Launchpad would buy them some time. Good sidekick. Best friend.
All he had to do was refrain from murdering Gizmoduck till then.
“Do I detect a rift in the spirit of heroic camaraderie?”
Negaduck. Right. Darkwing was so caught up in the utter insufferableness of the duck next to him he almost forgot about the actual villain in the room. If there was one person he hated more than Gizmoduck-–and though it was tough to admit, there was really no contest-–it was definitely Negaduck. Darkwing glared at him. Even after all this time, the sight of his alternate never failed to make him feel sick to his stomach.
“Never!” sniffed Gizmoduck, before Darkwing could think of a witty retort. Sometimes it seemed like Gizmoduck had even less of a hold on his mouth than Darkwing did, and even he could admit that was saying something. “Though, on occasion, pettily bicker we may—” something genuinely irritated bled through Gizmoduck’s heroic bluster, and Darkwing bit down a snicker—“Two kindred heroes will forever triumph over evil in only the truest spirit of friendship and coopera—ow, ow!”
“For the love of…” Negaduck half-snarled, half-sighed. “Don’t you ever shut up?” Negaduck pressed a button again, something on the control panel connected to their deathtrap. Negaduck always had a new deathtrap. Now if only Darkwing knew what it did.
Gizmoduck shuddered in his armor, sparking a little. Well, it electrocuted people. Darkwing could underline that. “N-not likely…“
Okay, Darkwing was getting sick of this. He didn’t like Gizmoduck taking over the role of heroic defiance. Negaduck was Darkwing’s nemesis, and what’s more, there wasn’t nearly enough attention on him.
“Charming of you to care, Negsey, but the sparkle going out of my relationship with talking tin cans doesn’t change the fact that your defeat is imminent.” He kept his face casual, but Darkwing was struggling to reach his rigged cufflinks, or any of his gadgets, really. He wasn’t having much luck. He hated when villains bound them spread-eagle. Spread-duck? Darkwing wasn’t really in the mood for puns.
“I don’t see why you even bother to try when you know I’m around, you pernicious photocopy. Come on, Negaduck. Hijacking Duckburg is pretty insane, even for you. Reaching a bit out of our league, aren’t we? Well, you’ve always been out of your gourd.”
Okay, that was a lie. He was always in the mood for puns.
Negaduck stared at him flatly. “And a big thanks to the talented speechwriter you hired from our venerable unemployed population. Are you through?”
Darkwing gave a self-satisfied smirk, but the instant the expression was on his face a painful shock tore through him. Whatever Darkwing was going to say devolved into a pained wheeze. He heard Gizmoduck cry out next to him.
“What’d you do it to me for? I didn’t say anything!”
“For your entire obnoxious existence,” said Negaduck. “You were going to say something. I can sense it with you hero-types. I feel the headache coming on you even open your beaks.”
“There’s something in this contraption that’s draining my power, Wingy,” Gizmoduck whispered too loudly, ignoring Negaduck.
“No, really, I thought you were just sitting around not doing anything for fun—”
Another shock for both of them.
“Slipped,” said Negaduck, chin resting on his folded hands.
“I—”
Darkwing’s whole brain seemed to sizzle.
“Now it’s just for fun.” Negaduck stood up. The control panel was on a little raised platform near the actual death trap, and when Negaduck stepped to the edge of it, it brought him about level with Gizmoduck. Negaduck smiled at them in a way that made Darkwing’s skin crawl. “You know, except for maybe the complete subjugation of entire peoples of different color and creed all brought together under one heartless dictatorial rule, there are few things in life as satisfying as a hero laid out to die.”
Gizmoduck sputtered artlessly. “Why, you heartless blackguard, you’ll never—”
“Uh huh.” Negaduck reached over and stretched to flip Gizmoduck’s visor up. Darkwing strained to see. Big, scared eyes stared out over the familiar beak, before Gizmoduck got control of himself and forced his expression into something more defiant. It was odd how one little gap in full-body armor could make him look so strange and vulnerable. “I hope you’ve been praying to some kinda goody god, do-gooder, because we’re letting the duck out of the bag tonight.”
“What?” Darkwing and Gizmoduck said in unison, though Gizmoduck’s voice had more of a tremor to it.
“You knobs guessed enough of this week’s plan to screw it up,” Negaduck shrugged, seating himself back at the console. “Don’t I get to learn some secrets too?”
“Negaduck,” said Darkwing, “if you really think you can reveal a hero’s secret identity just by wishing hard enough, then—”
Negaduck interrupted with a finger jabbed in Darkwing’s direction. “You, I get enough of with the mask on. I’d rather not even know how ugly you managed to make my real face.” Darkwing remembered with a thrill of disgust that they were technically the same person. It was so easy to forget. He thought of a little Gosalyn in another universe and clenched his fists at the memory. Negaduck didn’t want Gizmoduck to see his own face, even reflected onto Darkwing’s. Negaduck waved a hand at Gizmoduck. “You, I can’t even muster up the effort to care. You idiots keep finding ways out of dying. This is practically just a precaution. Making up for the mistakes of all the morons who never trashed your overpriced grocery cart before.”
“What?” said Darkwing.
“I-I—What? No!” Gizmoduck’s face, barely hidden without the visor, looked more terrified than Darkwing had ever seen him. For a moment his voice went oddly high, almost unrecognizably so. “You can’t, y-you… fiend…”
“C'mon LP, pal, hurry up,” Darkwing hissed under his breath. Louder, he said, “You won’t get away with this, you duplicitous doppelganger, you—devilish double…”
Negaduck smiled at Darkwing. “Don’t think I’m leaving my ignoramus of an imitation out,” he said. “But enough talking. I think I could go for opening up a nice can of hero.” Before either of them could react, he mashed down on a control.
With a huge groaning of metal, the bonds around Gizmoduck worked to pull the armor apart. Gizmoduck struggled frantically. Darkwing did, too. He might not like Gizmoduck, but he of all people knew how important a secret identity was. It was pulled into pieces like a child’s doll being torn apart. Gizmoduck clawed at the suit, but even the pieces slipped out of his grip and he fell to the ground.
“You… you cad,” he said, sounding on the verge of tears. He couldn’t even bring himself to keep up his hero-voice. Darkwing couldn’t help but stare.
“You—?!” he sputtered. “You’re Gizmoduck?”
Negaduck began to laugh. He doubled over, cackling, leaning on the control panel for support. “Oh, god,” he gasped, “God, what a laugh! You’re Gizmoduck? You? The insufferable two-bit wannabe on my side looks like that?”
Darkwing knew this guy. Launchpad’s annoying friend from Duckburg, the one who worked for Scrooge McDuck. Fenton Crackshell. He was Gizmoduck?
Well, it did explain how they could both get that much on his nerves.
For once in his life, Darkwing was struck dumb. Fenton clenched his fists, staring up at Negaduck with a glare, the very picture of wounded pride. It looked ridiculous on his small, awkward frame. He could barely see over Negaduck’s platform. “And what’s wrong with me?” he demanded, faltering. He knew the answer perfectly well.
“I knew you were just some loser without the suit, but even I didn’t know you could be that much of a loser.”
“You…” Fenton slumped over a little. “You don’t need superpowers to be a superhero…”
Darkwing had said that. He was quoting him. Darkwing winced, shifting in his bonds. Negaduck wasn’t a big duck either, but he leaned over the control panel and gave his best evil grin. “Maybe when you aren’t a wimpy little shrimp like you.” He laughed. “What a nerd! I barely even need to kill you!”
“Oh yeah?” Fenton tensed to bolt, but Negaduck hit another switch and the machine reached out and grabbed him once more. The pieces of suit clattered to the ground.
“Yeah,” said Negaduck. “But I’m going to do it anyway.”
A huge crash reverberated throughout the room. Darkwing was overcome with relief. He knew that crashing well.
Negaduck growled. “Can’t a duck get a little peace and quiet for murder around here?” He smacked a switch on his board and made Fenton jerk with electricty. “Here, enjoy a little shock from your own suit’s power.” Negaduck reached around and pulled out his chainsaw from beneath his seat, revving it up with relish. Over the roar, he said, “Don’t worry, my helpless heroes.” The word was thick with sarcasm. “I’ll be back soon. I’d kill you while I leave, but it’s just no fun if I don’t get to watch you writhe in agony as you die, is it?”
“You make the same mistake every time, Negaduck!” Darkwing called out. “No wonder your plans always end up failing and foiled, your spoils dashed away by the splendiferous soldiers of justice!”
“So you’re now you’re encouraging me to kill you faster.”
“…Er…”
“Don’t be so down, Darkwing! You can spend your last few minutes congratulating yourself that, as pathetic and miserable as you are, you still aren’t as pitiful as that guy.”
Darkwing glanced over at Fenton. The smaller duck slumped over further, like he was trying to hide his face. Negaduck laughed. “How about I give you a little present while I’m gone? Move too much, and this beauty will detect it. And trust me, you don’t want to move too much.” He gave a little bow. “Your doom will return shortly after this commercial interruption.” Even after Negaduck made his exit, Darkwing could hear the chainsaw revving from the hallway.
“Hope LP can handle the chainsaw chump over,” muttered Darkwing. He caught sight of Fenton again and shifted awkwardly. “Uh… h-hey, Giz…”
“Blathering blatherskite,” Fenton mumbled. “Blathering blatherskite, blathering blatherskite, blathering blatherskite!” Then he was shouting: “Blathering blatherskite!” Darkwing stared at him. Fenton started to struggle with the bonds, then yelped as another shock cut through him.
“It’s not working,” Fenton whimpered. He went limp. “This stupid contraption must have drained all the power out of my super-suit. That’s what he meant.” His voice went small. “I’m useless.”
“Hey, now,” said Darkwing awkwardly. He was racking his brain for any way of escaping, but without Giz’s suit, he couldn’t think of one. And if he were being honest, he was trying to distract himself from the mess beside him. “You’re not… entirely useless…” He wasn’t sure he could bring himself to compliment Gizmoduck more than that. For all he knew he could be useless out of costume. He was seeing way too much of himself in Fenton’s crisis of confidence.
“No, I am. You were right, Darkwing. Even that villain Negaduck is. Big duck in my stupid armor! Without my suit I’m just… nothing. Just a stupid, worthless wimp.”
“Well… hey, now…” Darkwing repeated. When he struggled to reach his gadgets, he was cut off by a jolt of pain. He wasn’t really sure what to say. It looked like Gizmoduck was only the picture of confidence when he had his suit to hide behind.
“Wingy, you know what I do when I’m not in the suit? I’m not like you. I can’t go in with nothing but a cape and a mask between me and the criminal underbelly.”
“Uh, well…” Darkwing realized he was relying on his own gadgets to get them out of here. He hesitated, though not fast enough to save himself from a shock. “Ow!”
“I’m no superhero. Look at me. I’m an accountant.”
Darkwing winced. Was that really what he did for Scrooge? “Ouch.”
“A bookkeeper, an auditor, a number cruncher, a financier! A… a—a bean counter!”
“Well, um…” Is this what it felt like to be on the other end of Darkwing’s depressive fits? How… awkward. Darkwing definitely owed Launchpad some brownies or something. A fruit basket at least. Gosalyn should probably get a raise in her allowance.
“In other words—a weakling, a milksop! A dumb, helpless loser.”
“Yikes.” Darkwing laughed nervously. “Woah there. Just a hunch, but I think I’m sensing a little self-focused hostility here…”
Fenton gave him a look. “Well, of course you don’t understand. You’re Darkwing Duck. You’re, you’re… you. You’re cool.”
“What? Really?” Darkwing coughed. “I mean, of course I knew that. Everyone knows that. Cool, pff. Darkwing Duck is the absolute coolest. Practically frozen!” Darkwing laughed again, then abruptly stopped. “But… really?”
“Well, gosh. Come on, Wingy. You might not be as good as Gizmoduck… was, but look at you. You stop all these villains and keep St. Canard without suit or armor or anything! You don’t even use a real gun!” He laughed. “Your look’s a little dark and mysterious for my tastes, but…”
“But…?” Not that Darkwing was prodding for compliments.
Fenton went quiet. “Mr. McDuck would be proud of you.”
Darkwing barely even knew Scrooge McDuck. He’d met him a handful of times at best. But he knew how much Launchpad respected and looked up to him, and he knew how jealous he could get when Launchpad talked about how strong and smart and brave and great Mr. Richest Duck in the World was, even when he was cutting Launchpad’s salary down to three cents an hour. He knew how far Launchpad would go to please his old boss.
And, well, that sort of said a lot about how much it meant to Fenton.
Darkwing wished Launchpad were here. Launchpad would know what to say. Launchpad was charming and friendly and nice—he was good at people. Darkwing wasn’t. Nobody liked Darkwing, sometimes not even himself.
But everybody liked Gizmoduck.
“Not likely,” said Darkwing. He sighed and gave up on struggling. He couldn’t get free, either. They were both as useless as the other. “Sometimes I don’t feel like much without the mask, either.”
“Huh?”
“I’m a loser, too, Giz.” Darkwing thought about his mask ripped off and everyone laughing, how hilarious the discovery of Drake Mallard had been. “A freak. A… a dweeb.” Darkwing put sarcasm on the word, but even after all these years it still kind of hurt.
“But Launchpad thinks you’re so great.”
“Launchpad thinks Pelican’s Island is good television.”
“Yeah, see? He has taste!”
Darkwing heaved a dramatic sigh. “Case in point. Would you mind holding off on being stomach-churningly aggravating just temporarily? I am trying to not hate you for one second so we can have kind of a moment here.”
“Oh.” Fenton straitened up, watching Darkwing earnestly. “Uh, sure. Go ahead.”
Darkwing rolled his eyes. “You may be the biggest loser Duckburg has ever seen, but… St. Canard’s number one loser isn’t so far behind, I guess.”
Fenton laughed. “I doubt that, Wingy.”
A pause.
“It’s Drake.”
Darkwing almost regretted the words the instant they were out of his beak. He remembered being laughed at, mocked. He never used his real name in his own head, why would he want anymore people to know it than necessary? Before he found Gosalyn he’d wanted to entirely forget Drake existed. His insides squirmed. How stupid was he? Why was he telling this to Gizmoduck of all people, that ridiculous, aggravating ham?
He couldn’t really bring himself to look at Fenton. “Um. Drake Mallard.”
Gizmoduck of all people, a hero just like him. A part of Drake worried he’d be disappointed.
He hoped Fenton could keep a secret.
“Drake?”
Fenton was staring with wide, wide eyes. Maybe he recognized him, now. Drake flinched. “Drakerooney?”
Oh, god. Drake wasn’t sure whether to be irritated or touched. He settled for laughing weakly. “Hey, Fentonino.”
Fenton broke into a grin. His earlier despondence seemed gone entirely. “Actually, I guess that explains a lot about Launchpad living with you.” His grin only got bigger. “Thanks, Wingy.”
“…No problem, Giz.” Darkwing felt oddly light, almost relieved. Familiar, safe irritation washed over him. “Just… don’t call me that. Any of that. Got it?”
Fenton either ignored him or didn’t get what he meant. Yeah, that was definitely the same old Gizmoduck. “So how are we getting out of here?”
“Um.” Drake had been so focused on the whole bonding thing that he had almost forgotten their predicament. His limbs were starting to go numb. “Uh.”
“Launchpad’s on his way, right? We can’t just wait for him, or let him face that fiendish fiend Negaduck on his own!”
Fenton seemed to have bounced back, which was great and all, but Drake still had no idea how to get free. “Any ideas, Mr. Accountant?”
Fenton grunted in thought. “I can’t use the suit… There’s no power.” Suddenly, his face lit up. “But I can use me!”
“Uh… what?” Drake raised an eyebrow. “Has the open air gone to your brain, Crackshell? You’re no supersuit.”
“I’m not. But I am a good conductor!”
“Try and speak English, instead of the language of cuckoolanders.”
“No, listen, Drakey. The–the machine, thingy. There are twenty eight buttons and thirty two switches on the control panel.”
“And there’s four buttons on my jacket, what’s your point?”
“There’s eight, actually, you forgot the ones on your sleeves. But that’s not the point! Look how much stuff that thing does. It’s not made for just electricity and pulling apart innocent gizmo-suits. It’s a full-on, uh…” Fenton swallowed. “…full-on t-torture setup. Isn’t that great?”
Darkwing stared at him flatly. “The name is apt. He’s cracked.”
“See, if it’s a jack-of-all-physical-pains, it’s gonna have limits, right? D'you know how much electricity goes through my gizmosuit? More than some nuclear reactors, and that’s putting it lightly. And most of it runs on solar power, too.”
“Quit with the sales pitch and get to the point.”
“We can overload it, Wingy. There’s no way this thing is made to handle that much energy. If we get it to use enough of the power at once… well, maybe we could break it!”
Understanding dawned on Darkwing. “Giz… you just might not be as stupid as you look. And act, and seem, and probably are.”
“Aw, thanks, Wingy! Uh, right?”
“Of course, you might just still be an idiot. How do you plan on doing that without both of us ending up as chicken fried duck, hm?”
“I, uh…” Fenton laughed nervously. “Well to be honest I hadn’t really thought of that.”
Darkwing grunted. You’d think after all his battles with Megavolt he’d be immune to electric shocks by now. He really needed to invest in some kind of shockproof suit, but rubber was so unstylish.
“Launchpad’s probably chainsaw goop by now!” he snapped at himself. “We don’t really have another choice. Just struggle as fast as you can, got it? Act like you’re swimming or something. In syrup.”
“Aye aye, captain!” Fenton chirped. Darkwing was pretty sure it was only kind of sarcastic. “I’ll pretend I’m in the Black Friday shopping crowd.”
A few moments of very painful thrashing later, the machine sputtered out and dropped the two ducks to the floor. Darkwing coughed up soot. “Singed, but triumphant…” he mumbled.
“As soon as I get home I’m breaking every bug zapper I ever even looked at,” groaned Fenton. Sometimes Darkwing really appreciated the bizarre heights of science supervillains’ projects would go to. He’s pretty sure this technique wouldn’t have worked anywhere else.
“Alright! We’re free.” Darkwing forced himself up, feathers still sizzling, and dusted off his costume. He felt like he’d just been through a deluxe massage given by Megavolt. “Now we’ve got a vile, vexing villain to stop.”
Fenton was staring at his suit. It was still dead and visibly far too much for him to carry. “But… my suit…”
“We’ll… we’ll get it later.” Darkwing hovered awkwardly, wanting to withdraw, but then he reached out and put his hand on Fenton’s shoulder. “A couple of…” He sighed. “A couple of heroes like us don’t need any supersuit, right?”
Fenton beamed. “Right.”
“Now come on, Giz.” Darkwing turned away, straightening his hat and letting his cape flair out dramatically. He was still the better hero here, after all. “Let’s get dangerous.”