The lone figure sat, motionlessly as the sun fell slowly behind the ocean's horizon, the deep red ball seeming to float needlessly on the expansive waters. The skies above his head were clouding, yet the deep red, purple, and orange still blazed across the sky in a powerful sweep of color.
The masked mallard sat, eyes wandering idily about. He looked first to the city at his right, then back to the perpetual ocean that seemed to pour from Audobon Bay. Several sea gulls sailed below his feet as the tide came in, crashing mercilessly against the stone supporters of the bridge.
Time was slipping. He knew that. Yet he was completely unsure of where to turn. His mind-the one thing that had proven to keep him alive despite all that he'd endured in life- was failing him. If the truth be told, his heart seemed to ring out his mind's desperate attempts to enlighten him. His inner battle was driving him crazy.
"Okay, so what if I surrender and believe that Herb killed Binkie? What would happen then?" His eyes were strained behind their deep purple captors as Darkwing swallowed hard. Since the incident had occured, he was deeply sure of Herb's innocence, yet the evidence proved otherwise. A call from the forensic analysis' concluded that the blood and teeth found on the scene were Herb's afterall, that in the commotion, Binkie had kicked him in the mouth. Obviously it was accidental; a spurred reflex in the heat of the battle. Yet was it unconsciously done as Herb was trying to help Binkie remain conscious, or was she trying to get away?
Herb had told police that he had had the gun in his hand to fend off whoever was attacking his wife, yet the interrogation detectives shrugged it off as a cover-up.
A cover up. They actually believed Herb-who has the mental intellect of mayonnaise- could be capable of 'covering up' something.
Darkwing sighed discomfortingly and the wind gusted against his gray fedora. He just couldn't bring himself to believe that Herb was guilty. If he admitted to it, and the man was sentenced for life, there would be no peace for him. If Herb did kill his wife, then he deserved whatever punishment he got. Yet, if he didn't, Darkwing knew that he was the man's only hope for justice.
Feeling more drained than ever, Darkwing climbed to his feet and made his way to his bike, knowing that whatever answer came, he would have to find it. Obviously, the truth was not going to come with happy regard.

*************************

Turning down a side street, Darkwing sped the motorcycle against the black pavement. His mind was whirling in circles, and he would have missed his turn off of the freeway had the thick, cumbersome clouds decided not to clap thunder across the darkened sky. Darkwing looked up as the sound rang against his helmet, and growled. "Of course, Murphy's law that anything that can go wrong will go wrong remains intact." He said with disdain as rain began pelting against his body. He was in half-decision to call it a night and return home when the shrill ring of his cell phone cried over the tempered storm.
Stopping the Ratcatcher, he reached into his purple double-breasted jacket, beyond his gas gun, and retrieved a small, metallic flip-phone. Very few people knew the number, so he immdediately expected one of three people.
"Hello?"
"Dad!" Another clap of thunder crashed against the impending clouds as rain fell harder.
"Yes?" The storm was scrambling the phone, and who was evidently Gosalyn was barely audible.
"Dad! Herb Muddlefoot just escaped from prison!" Despite the interference, he could hear the panic in her voice.
"He WHAT?!" Darkwing was shocked at the news as he checked his mobile computer/ communicator the police used to call him, which...was also not working.
"Dad, I know you think he's innocent and all, but the lights are out in the house and Launchpad's missing-" her voice blurred into static and rain attacked the earth in an onslaught of missles.
"Stay calm, Gos, the lights are out from the storm and Lp's-"
"Dad, we're the only house with no power on the block! The neighbors all have power! Launchpad's in this house somewhere and we can't find him! I'm scared, dad!"
Darkwing's heart skipped a beat when he realized the amount of danger Gosalyn was in.
"Gosalyn, listen. Lock all of the doors, I'm on my way-"
"WHAT?!" She screamed in an attempt to rectify her father's words.
"Gos! I-" The phone went dead.
With his sixth sense forecasting doom, Darkwing sped off into the stormy night towards his home on Avian way. Where he was currently located, it would be much quicker to drive to his house than to go to the tower.
Driving intrepidly at break-neck speed, the rain attacking his bike like pungent spears, Darkwing felt a cold sweat trickle down his back.
'Oh my God, he's found her.
The killer's found my daughter.'

*************************

Years of driving at high speeds allowed Darkwing to get to his home quickly while bypassing a rather serious motorcycle accident any other person with normal dexterity might have encountered. But, of course, the fear that had aroused his actions for his beloved daughter was potent enough to send a spacecraft circling the illimitable reaches of the universe.
A strong gust of wind sent his cape billowing majestically behind him as he sprinted up towards his house. The lights were completely out in his home, yet the streetlight at the end of the driveway seemed to pour light into the darkened property; exposing the falling rain from the clandestine sky and unmasking Darkwing's worse fears. A small sound caught his attention from the darkened side of the house as he ran up, and with every muscle twitching, he sprinted and threw an expertly-placed flying side kick into the shadowey figure's stomach. The figure crumpled as the breath flew from his mouth. Fueled by anger-induced audacity, Darkwing threw a fierce punch that whip-lashed the man and threw him on his back.
"Okay, you sack of shit! You're under arrest for-"the words died in his mouth as a streak of lightning lit up the sky and the man that lay bleeding on the ground was unmistakingly Herb Muddlefoot.
"Herb-" Darkwing couldn't say anymore as Herb struggled to get to his feet. Darkwing had been mistaken, and because of his insolent trust his daughter could be dead.
"D-Darkwing.." He sputtered as he spit up yet even more blood and teeth.
Arrant fury ran rapid through his body as he felt his blood boil. "Herb! Where's Gosalyn?! What have you done with her??"
He didn't wait two second before pulling out a 9mm handgun, resurrected from a secret compartment on the Ratcatcher. He had always kept it for a plan C, the absolutely last resort. Yet he had yanked it from it's resting place as he pulled up, determined not to have a plan C.
Plan A was all he could afford to use.
Pointing the gun at Herb's head, he growled in a low, menacing tone. "You bastard, what have you done with her?"
"Nothing! Nothing, I swear! I was just-" the audible click of the gun as the enraged father cocked it into loaded position echoed above the storm and sent silent chills down both of their spines. Darkwing knew he was an accurate shooter, even with a hand gun. Yet, as close as the two men were, the force of the blow would obliterate Herb's head, even if he missed and shot just to the side.
"Herb, if you've so much as touched her I'll kill you! So help me God, I'll do it." The look of sheer hatred in the eyes of such a revered figure was enough to drop Herb to his knees.
"Please don't-" he stammered, arms outstretched in surrenderance. "I'd never hurt Gos."
"Bullshit! I saw what you did to your own wife! And to think, I once believed you were innocent." The gun was close enough to Herb's head that he could see the separate drops of rain dribbling down the smooth, metallic surface. Tears fell from his pallid cheeks as he stammered, "Please, I came to save them! He got Binkie and he'll get Gosalyn and Honker, too! I-OH GOD!"

Herb's cry of sheer terror was the last thing Darkwing heard.

*************************

The first glimpses of consciousness were vague and indescript. Darkwing opened his eyes, and lifting his pounding head into position, looked slowly around his surroundings.
His head throbbed trememdously, but no pain accounted for the ache that resonated on the right side of his head. He was dimly aware of the warm liquid that oozed it's way down from his forehead. His mind knew it was blood, but was unable to transfer the message anywhere else.
They were in a dimly lit warehouse where, he assumed once he gained enough coherence to remember what had gone on, was somewhere near the bay. He could see lights flashing from the partially broken windows, and the piles of junk everywhere made even Gosalyn's room appear orderly.
Gosalyn, his chest tightened as he looked around frantically for her. His brain pounded harshly against his skull, and he could feel the bile in his stomach bubbling and gurgling angrily.
"Dad."
The voice was faint and floated to him from behind. With his hands turned behind his back and to the back of the chair he was propped on, he attempted to turn towards the sound. His limited movement allowed him only to look back just enough to see his daughter entrapped in a small, ratted cage. She looked worn, with her lip busted and her right eye puffed and swollen. Yet, she was alive. Relief flooded through him as he saw her stand shakily to her feet and close the space between her body and the bars.
"Hey, kid." He whispered in return. Launchpad and Morgana both acknowledged him and by looking over his left shoulder, he could visibly see them in their own cage.
"Oh, Dark. We were worried that you'd never wake up." She said with a voice grown alist.
"How long was I out?"
" A good couple hours, Dw." Launchpad replied. "We were scared you'd..." He couldn't finish, yet his strained eyes expressed his concern more distinctly than any words could.
Darkwing rotated his neck in an attempt to alleviate the searing pain, but to no avail.
"Listen, we'll get out of this, I promise. I'll get you all out-" his assuring voice was interrupted by a more empowered one as the door to the warehouse flew open.
"Now why are you going to make a promise you can't keep? That's not very heroic of you."
The fact that the voice was coming from a sixteen year old boy did nothing to wilt the menacing fervor of the voice. Darkwing growled at Tank.
"Speaking of heroism, since when does Darkwing Duck use guns? I thought only sissies played with firearms." Tank's voice reaked in sarcasm as he stepped closer to where Darkwing was forcibly perched, and twirled the gun playfully on his finger.
"My thoughts, exactly." Darkwing amended with a hateful grin. Tank smirked at him.
"Well, I would say that you were smart in packing a gun, but then again, how smart are you when you are incapacitated by a kid?" Tank gave a smile only a mother could love as he stepped into the light of a low hanging bulb. Darkwing kept his eyes instinctively on the boy as he replaced the gun into the brim of his mud-stained jeans and walked up to him. "Luckily I suceeded. I'm not at all that interested in getting busted by the cops before I get outta this city." He gave a look that reaked of poignant hell-fire. Darkwing looked back at him in arrant disgust. "Yes, that is lucky for you. I bet you'd hate to see the looks on the police's faces and know what they think when they realize it was you who raped and killed your own mother."
Tank looked at him callously before throwing a hand into the air and walking away. "Ooh, aren't you just the perfect little angel?" He sneered as he walked a few steps over to a long table, keeping his back turned on the incapacitated crimefighter.
Darkwing watched him closely, unable to see the table that was perched in a path of darkness neglected by the aged, cylindered yellow lights of the old warehouse. He craned his neck to see past the boy's boxy form, yet soon found his astute hearing to be a much more effective guide at revelating Tank's work. He could hear the all-too familiar clangs and clanks and dull thuds of metal-on-wood, and his body grew cold. He then began to wiggle furiously against his roped captor, growing frantic for a way free.
Tank noticed that it had grown eerily quiet and turned from his meticulous work to look back around just as Darkwing became lax and still. He furrowed his brow at the avenger, gazing at him like a revolting pile of fecal matter. The sad irony was evident in Darkwing's mind of who more closely resembled the object being compared.
To keep Tank occupied, Darkwing asked him before resuming wigging, "Tank, how could you? How could you do that to your own mother? How could you live with yourself?"
His voice was loud and echoed off of the cold concrete walls of the abandoned warehouse, drowing out his fondling of the ropes. He secretly cursed himself for teaching the trio of kids his patented Darkwing double-cross half knot when they were little.
"It's easy," Tank called from over his back as he continued on with his work. He then turned around calmly, looking at his prisoner. "After six hours of shots and a few lines of coke...well, it's amazing how easily you can...numb the pain."
Darkwing continued to unravel the tenacious knots encircling his wrists, making sure to lessen his arm movements to prevent revealing his struggle. He kept his eyes locked on Tank as the boy stepped into the pale yellow light, holding a revolver sleek enough that it glinted homicidally in his burly hand.
The boy gave a sadistic smile as he lowed the gun and approached the masked avenger. "Darkwing, I know you've run across my parents a time or two in the past. Did they ever...annoy you?"
Darkwing glared at him darkly. "No."
In a movement abhorrent to a person of such a large size, Tank ran up and hit him hard across the face with the barrel of his gun, careening his shoulders as if he had just slugged a baseball into the next city. Darkwing's head jerked violently to one side as he felt the portion of the world being seen through his eyes twirl upside down like a rollercoaster.
"Don't lie to me, you son of a bitch!!"
Darkwing fought hard for consciousness, knowing that passing out would withdraw all of Gosalyn's armor against the crazed maniac. Darkwing knew he was acccomplishing nothing more useful except throwing his own life into danger, but to keep his family safe, so be it.
Darkwing finally forced himself to regain focus, only then realizing the thick, coppery taste of blood as it poured into his mouth from a ruptured lip.
Tank stared at him fanatically, his breath coming in shallow gasps against his massive frame. Darkwing only then realized who he was up against. He had underestimated the level of the boy's insane brutality by basing him merely upon his age. He knew now that Tank was a volatile maniac, crazed deeply beyond his years.
"Now tell me the truth! Anyone but anyone who comes in contact with tho..those..inbred MORONS has to see how fucking stupid and useless they are!!" As he screeched this, he flung the gun around in his hand like a useless toy, the weapon seeming to leave a metallic trail of light behind it as it flashed to and fro before Darkwing's dazed eyes. He could feel his neck prickle and prayed deeply that the gun wouldn't go off.
"Yes," Darkwing sputtered in an attempt to placate Tank. He was successful, and Tank calmed himself enough to listen.
"Yes..they were annoying, I'll admit that-"
Tank's smile widened across his face as he threw back his head and cackled madly. From behind, Darkwing could hear Gosalyn whimper in despair. She must not be noticing his tries at freedom, he reasoned, for he had nearly loosened the restraints that held him at bay.
Tank ceased his maniacal chuckling and wiped a straying tear from an eye. "Oh, that was freakin' hilarious. Annoying? Ha. Understatement of the year. 'Annoying' is running out of acid before the night's through. Or getting blue balls when some half-brained bitch won't seal the deal..." He trailed off with a sly grin. "You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"
Darkwing just glared at him.
"Thought not. My parents are the fucking King and Queen of stupidity. They're so idiotic..to take thier lives from this earth would be a gift to mankind. Living with people like that will drive anyone to kill."
Darkwing's hands were nearly loose enough that he could rotate his wrists and squeeze them out of the knots. Yet he waited for the opportune time to reveal his freedom, weighing that he had just one chance.
"Okay, Tank. So your parents drove you crazy? What do the neighbors have to do with it?" He motioned with his head back behind him to the cages that held his family. "Why don't you just let them be? Don't spill more blood than necessary."
The monstrous killer gave a thoughtful look at the crimefighter, then over his head at Gosalyn, Launchpad, and Morgana. He stroked his chin-with a visible layer of unshaved matter sprayed across-gently with his free hand, considering a correct response. "Ooh sure. I'm just going to let them go. Let them run off and tell the police it was me. That I was the one that killed mom-" he let out a hateful snicker that was so in character for him. "What do you take me for? Some no-brained sixteen year-old? Tsk tsk, Darkwing. You should know a criminal mastermind when you see one."
Darkwing scowled at Tank, refusing to consider such a pretentious bastard a mastermind at anything.
"What do you mean they'll tell the police? The police will already know you did it. You can run, but you can't hide. It's only a matter of time before you are caught and justice is served!!"
Tank stepped closer, in a fit of anger, but though against hitting him oncemore. He wanted the hero alive to witness his dirty work.
Giving Darkwing a calming smile that made the hero's stomach flop, Tank held up an index finger, indicating him to stay put.
"Where the hell am I supposed to go? To Lollipop Land?" Darkwing hissed as Tank turned and walked across the width of the decrepit warehouse. He disappeared into an adjoining room, in which allowed Darkwing a second to rip one hand free of the ropes.
"Dad, you're-" Gosalyn began in a hoarse whisper once she saw what her father had accomplished. He silenced her with a "Shh!"
Tank reappeared a moment later, with Herb and Honker Muddlefoot in tow, both of their arms bound behind their backs and their faces beaten to a pulp. One of Honker's lenses had shattered, cutting long slices into the tender flesh around his eyes.
The malicious duck tossed the two onto the floor a few feet from Darkwing, in which they obliged and, in their battered state, flew across the cracked cement floor like ragdolls. Darkwing looked at them pityingly, feeling rather guilty that he assumed them dead not ten minutes ago.
"See, you ingrated sons of bitches are going to end up dead because you know too much-" Tank growled at the victims encased in the cages. "Plus, you're all fucking morons. Yet no such amount of pleasure will come until I find that fucking dipstick, Drake Mallard." He walked up to Gosalyn's cage and she instinctively backed away. He looked at her with a kind of carnal insanity, his eyes wild and buzzing in their sockets.
"Gosalyn, when I find your dad, I'm going to tie him down and remove organs. One by one. I don't know where he is now, or when he'll be back. All I know is, when he gets a call from the cops saying his daughter's head was found on his front doorstep, he'll come back." He laughed as Gosalyn grew pale and cringed. In a last resort to prevent becoming completely defenseless, she balled her fists and screamed, "You'll never get away with this, you fat oaf!"
Tank smiled at the girl, admiring not her spirit but what pleasure he'll obtain once he ties her down and has his way with her before she dies. "Oh, you're wrong there, Gossie. I'll be fine 'n dandy. Because, I'm not going to be the one charged with killing you..." Tank began as he backed away from her cage and ambled directly to Honker, who shrank away at his brother's outreached hand. "Honker is."
He stood his brother roughly to his feet and gave him a hearty slap on the back. "Nothing like a good 'ol murder/suicide, huh sport? Especially after all the 'traumatic' occurences lately that's left you crazy and vengeful."
He shoved the boy harshly back onto the floor and turned to acknowledge Darkwing, who had felt the strong steel of panic rise in his throat. He knew how Tank was going to stage this, and he knew it would work.
"A couple of days ago, I spoke to Detective Sherman, who gave me the okay to leave and go over to Paris, France, where my Aunt Becky lives. I am allowed to 'escape the turmoil' as long as I stay with Aunt Becky at all times-" Tank turned his maddening gaze to Herb, who said nothing. Tears began to roll down his cheeks as his gaze fell to the floor. Tank looked back at Darkwing, a broad smile widdening. "Now, a sixteen year-old with red hair and a passport and driver's license with the name 'Tank Muddlefoot' flew from St. Canard airport to Paris, France, yesturday. He is actually at Aunt Becky's house as of an hour or so ago." Tank checked the watch on his wrist for emphasis rather than time.
"And my lovely Aunt Becky hasn't seen me since I was a baby, so it wasn't much of a problem to send someone in my shoes, especially since I've spent the last six months familiarizing him with my life." He gave a self-indulgant giggle. "He knows everything down to what size underwear we all wear."
Darkwing could feel a cold sweat break out over his face as he marveled Tank's shrewed intellect. This was actually a Muddlefoot that planned all of this?
"So, let me guess. You've got a passport and plane ticket under a false name to somewhere crazy like, oh, say..Finland, perhaps?"
Tank rose his eye brows and smacked his hands together roughly. The claps echoed throughout the building in a hollow, merciless tone. "Netherlands, actually. Bravo, Darkwing Duck. Nice to see I get to do away with at least ONE person with a hint of intelligence. Yes, though, I leave next week. By the time someone figures something fishy out, I'll be..oh, let's say 'unreachable.' A week will give me the chance to kill off that jack-ass Drake Mallard and gain some worthy recognition for offing a world-renowned hero."
Tank pulled a pair of nylon gloves out of his back pocket and slipped them on, careful not to touch the exterior side. "Now, without further talk, let's do this." He immediately walked over to the cage holding a very fear-stricken Gosalyn with a wickedly pernicious look on his face. The fact that he was actually enjoying this made her want to retch. Taking the cage door, un-locking the lock, he flung it open and grabbed her around the waist in a forceful bear hug as she squirmed and wiggled madly.
"Let go!!" She screamed as she struggled to disengage her hands. She knew once an arm was free, he would get the beating of a lifetime. Yet before she had a chance to respond, Tank reeled back and punched her hard with his fist, colliding it with her face and throwing her onto her back. In a lightning move, he was on top of her, grinning devilishly.
"NO, Tank!!" Honker screamed as he picked himself up to his knees. Launchpad could be heard from behind as he rattled the cage in an adrenaline-induced rage.
"LET HER GO!!" He roared, and Morgana jumped to her feet, preparing to conjure up some sort of spell. Yet, before anyone had time to react, Gosalyn watched in horror as Tank pressed himself on her, struggling to unbutton her jeans. Her head was swimming from the blow she'd just received, and in a croaked voice, she whimpered, "Dad.."
"Don't call your dad, bitch! He isn't here!!" Tank spat as he struggled to keep her at bay.
"WRONG, ASS HOLE!" Came a bone-numbing yell as Tank looked up to see Darkwing springing onto him, throwing him off of Gosalyn and onto the floor. Tank flopped along the ground and looked up just in time to see a swift fist catching him in the jaw and reeling him back to the cold ground.
Gosalyn laid on the floor languidly, unable to move. Honker made his way over to her, kicking and slithering like a half-paralyzed snake.
"Gosalyn?" He whispered as she turned her head slowly and looked at him, half dazed.
"Can you untie me?"
She looked at him a moment, as if he had just spoken to her in an entirely different language. Yet after taking a moment to understand what he'd said, she rolled over and proceeded to untie him.
Launchpad and Morgana watched on helplessly as Darkwing and Tank battled fiercly against one another. Although Darkwing was an adept martial artist and in impeccible shape, the sheer hatred Tank witheld seemed to fuel his body. Darkwing ducked, deflecting a wicked jab and threw a turning-back-side kick into Tank's stomach, in which he folded like a napkin and toppled to the ground with a rib-cracking "Oof!"
Darkwing watched for any movement, and once realizing that Tank was out cold, ran to help the others.
Honker was already free and had liberated Launchpad and Morgana, who ran to Darkwing's aid. Herb was also free, yet still remained on the floor, seemingly frozen in horror.
"Oh, dad!" Gosalyn flung herself on him despertly. He grabbed her and held her as tightly as he could.
"Oh, God, I'm glad you're okay." He was nearly in tears as he cuddled her gently. "Listen to me. I want you four out of here-go get the police. I'll stay here with Tank."
"But..dad-"
"No 'but's', Gos. Go. You too, Lp!" He motioned towards the only exit out of the warehouse, which lay across the length of the building, and they started off for it, abiding by his orders. Gosalyn trailed behind as Launchpad, Honker, and Morgana sprinted off in the other direction, the red head watching fearfully over her shoulder at Tank's massive body lying still on the cold pavement.
Darkwing went over to Herb, kneeling to face him and placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.
"Herb, buddy, you okay?"
Herb continued to stare at the floor, his entire body wracked in shakes. He stayed still for a long time, finally looking up into the crimefighter's eyes. "I...I can't believe it. First Binkie...now, Tank..I...I.." his voice cracked and all of the energy died within him. Darkwing looked at him raptly, deeply sorry.
"C'mon, Herb. Let's get you-"
"DAD!!!!!"
His daughter's shrill scream hummed in his body as he sprang to his feet, looking first at Gosalyn, who was the only one still left in the entrance of the warehouse. Her face was contorted in an expression of sheer horror as she gazed off to Darkwing's right. The avenger looked off over his shoulder to see Tank on his feet, his eyes venemously slitted in Gosalyn's direction. The sleek revolver in his hand gleamed at the red head in a deadly sneer.
Darkwing's blood ran cold as he charged at Tank, his screames of rebellion evaporating over the firing of the gun. In an instant he dove in front of the gun, every muscle in his body tense and exerting all it's strength imaginable. The deafening ring resonated in his ears.

Gosalyn watched in sheer terror as her father dove in front of Tank, catching the bullet squarely in the chest. He fell haphazardly to the floor, his limp body sliding across the slick concrete. Launchpad ran up to her then, and grabbed her numb body and jerked her towards him as the ringing of the gun pierced the night again. They both landed hard on the broken sidewalk outside of the warehouse, rain pelting onto them in mercilless fury.

Gosalyn's lungs screamed for air as she coughed and jumped to her feet. She ran back towards the entrance, screaming for her father despertly. Launchpad flailed his arms out in a desperate attempt to keep her at bay, but to no avail. Morgana and Honker ran in after her, yet stopped dead still in the shadows of Darkwing Duck's daughter.

What lay out before them was a perverse spectacle, a sick and twisted world they all wished to escape. Tank was flopped onto the ground, illuminated by the paling light, the better part of his head missing. Darkwing lay a few feet away, with Herb the only one left standing. The gun in his hand fell with a deafening clank onto the floor as he crumpled to his knees beside his partially decapitated son.

Gosalyn choked back a cry as she tore off to her father, falling to her knees beside his body. She watched as blood poured from an open wound in his chest, tainting his cloths and dripping lazily to the floor.
"Dad?" She croaked as if someone had their hands around her neck. Through a prism of tears, she watched him, waiting impatiently for him to stir. She wanted more than anything to see his bright blue eyes again. Just one more time.

Morgana, Launchpad, and Honker all ran up to them, their hearts racing. Morgana took one look at her lover's body and screamed, backing away. Launchpad's lip quivered as he fell to his knees beside Gosalyn, who was trying despertly to wake him up.
"Dad, please. Come on..wake up!" She shook him gently, yet he did nothing to respond. Taking her hands, she pressed them gently across his chest in a failing attempt to stop blood flow. Launchpad broke into tears and fell to his hands at the sight.
"Please, dad!! Please wake up!! You can't go!!! You're Darkwing Duck!! No one can hurt you! Remember?!" Her voice went alist against her shakey breath as gentle tears fell from her glistening green eyes. Morgana had scooted up beside her, sobbing madly.
Gosalyn gazed over at Morgana numbly, as if staring at her for the first time. In a choking whisper, she said, "D-do something."
Morgana gazed up at her, silent.
"You....do something..HELP HIM!!"
She looked from Gosalyn to Darkwing, who's gentle face looked so brave..so dignified. She then knew she could do nothing for her love. He had fulfilled his destiny. It was his time.
She looked back at Gosalyn, then dropped her head shamefully. "I can't."
"DO SOMETHING NOW!!" Gosalyn screamed as Morgana stood shakily to her feet. The red head watched her stand, enraged and appalled that the sorceress had the dead world at her fingertips yet would do nothing to send him back.
"What kind of person are you?! He loved you! And you won't even save him? You don't deserve to be his love!!" In a flash, Gosalyn was in a half-squat position and sprang at Morgana, shoving her fiercly. Morgana toppled back and fell onto her butt.
"Gosalyn, I love him more than anything!! I would gladly take his place, if I could! But I can't bring him back!! I have no power to!"
Morgana fell onto her side and covered her face in her hands. Gosalyn looked back at her father, refusing to believe that this was the end.

"Gosalyn," Launchpad whispered after a moment. He had developed just enough energy to push himself to his feet, his tears still sliding down his face in an onpour.
Gosalyn had nearly cried herself into hysteria as Launchpad reached out to her, in which she shoved him away angrily.
"NO! Go away!! I've got to stay with him!"
"Gos, baby, he's gone-"
"NO! No he isn't!! He's Darkwing Duck! You can't kill Darkwing Duck!"
Launchpad grabbed her as gently as he could, knowing that if she stayed there too long she'd break down.
"Launchpad, let go!!" She screeched as he picked her up in a kind of haphazard hug, fearing to loosen or tighten his grip. He pulled her away as gently as a person kicking and punching could go, his arms aching as he pulled her across the warehouse.
"No!!" She cried despertly, her breathing raspy and deep in her throat. "Please...no...."

*************************

"Tonight's top story. Grief strikes the nation as world renowned hero Darkwing Duck dies of a gunshot wound, in an attempt to save civilians from a deranged murderer. Darkwing Duck has been the recepient of numerous purple hearts in his single-handed triumphs over global terrorists, malicious dictators, and otherwise supernatural forces. Here is Nancy Thomas on more..."
Launchpad flipped off the television, throwing the living room into pitch black. He had seen CBS' broadcast over Darkwing's death numerous times in the last 24 hours, including the heartfelt speech from the president himself. Each time they broadcasted it, it seemed harder and harder to stomach.

Launchpad sat for a moment, enveloped in darkness. Speaking of stomach, he nor Gosalyn had eaten since last evening, since they'd been kidnapped. It was the longest he had ever gone without food, yet the thought of it made him nearly retch.
Standing to his feet, he'd suddenly realized that he hadn't seen Gosalyn nearly all day. The last time he'd spoken to her was this morning, right after he found out that Herb had taken the same gun he had hidden in his shirt-the one he shot Tank with-and had killed himself. After he told her what Herb had done, Gosalyn merely looked at him a moment before walking away, and disappeared emotionlessly to Darkwing Tower.

The Tower.

Launchpad's eyes fell onto the two spinning chairs as the pale light from the full moon sent a checkered glow through the window panes that fell over the chairs in a blanket. He didn't feel he had the courage to venture into such a place then, not when the poignant absence of his hero and best friend seemed everywhere; choking and suffocating. Yet he had to find Gosalyn. So after a shuddered breath, he went.

*************************

Darkwing kissed his daughter gently on her forehead as he tucked her into bed. The oversized bed with the baseball emblems splashed across the comforter.
"Dad, where are you going tonight?" Gosalyn had asked, wise beyond her nine years on this earth.
"Out." He replied with a smile. She looked at him closely, admiring how his eyes sparkled when he looked at her.
"Can I come? I can help. Plleeaassee?"
Darkwing couldn't resist and wrapped his arms around her in a gentle hug.
"Sorry, honey. It's too dangerous. I can't risk something happening to you."
Gosalyn conceded to that fact, especially since it's the same one he'd told her every other night.
He bid her farewell and made his way towards the door, only to have her call him oncemore.
Turning around, he regarded her. "Yes, hon?"
"Dad, be careful. Okay?"
Darkwing smiled and blew his little one a kiss. "Don't worry. No one can hurt Darkwing Duck."

Launchpad found Gosalyn where he knew she'd be; sitting on the ledge of the tower, on the side that overlooked the ocean. She and Darkwing frequently sat there together, talking to one another as they watched the nautical breeze blow the night clouds lazily by. As Gosalyn grew older, the two had become so close, and coincidentally, just alike.
Launchpad stepped out onto the ledge and was immediately greeted with a gentle breeze that smelt of fresh salt water and Azalea blooms.
Launchpad waited a moment before sitting next to her, allowing her a chance to tell him to leave. Yet as she sat still, hands at each side and shoulder slumped, she regarded him in a near whisper that was almost lost to the dying wind. "You can sit, Launchpad."
The pilot gave a moment more hesitation before he sat beside her. He looked over at her, his mouth open in every intention of asking how she was doing, but all words withered in his lungs as he looked at her. She looked older, more of a thirty year-old in a lanky fifteen year-old body. She also looked worn, so incredibly worn.
The silence held thick over them as they sat next to one another, both still sure of the need to move forward yet completely ignorant of knowing how to do so.
"Why did this happen, Launchpad?" Gosalyn finally spoke, in a creaking voice struggling to keep composure. Launchpad looked over at her, watching her eyes water as she faced the endless ocean.
"He's faced some of the most ruthless, dangerous men in the world. He's been shot, stabbed, beaten, choked, all of that stuff. He was invincible..."she trailed off as her voice broke and she began to cry. Launchpad took her in his arms, rocking her gently and struggling to cry as silently as possible. He knew he needed to be the strong one. Darkwing was gone. It was up to him, now.
"I know, sweetie. He was invincible, but not immortal. A bullet to the chest would get anyone, no matter who held the gun."
Gosalyn clung to his broad chest, sobbing uncontrollably. "Why, though? Out of everyone..it had to be my dad. The one person who ever understood me. I would give anything to talk to him again, even if it's for only a minute."
Gosalyn's pain-wracked sobs filled the air around them as they sat on the edge of the tower their hero had once claimed residence to; amidst a city he once protected.
Launchpad's mind ached for a way to console her, to explain how everything would work out. Oh, if only he had DW there to help him! He always had such a way with words, and his daughter.
"Gosalyn, sometimes things are just meant to be-" he trailed off when he realized he was doing nothing more productive than causing the red head to cry harder. He cleared his throat, and his eyes lit up as he realized just what he needed to say, as if someone had whispered it into his ear.
"Gosalyn, do you know what your dad always wanted to make sure he did? The only thing he wanted to accomplish in his life?" He whispered the question in a kind of wonder-like charm that Darkwing had always been known to do. Gosalyn reacted to it, and lifted her head gently.
"What?" She asked, looking into Launchpad's kind eyes. Launchpad gave her a little half-smile as he lifted her chin.
"To make sure you were okay. All of the battles he's won, the fame and glory he's received, the awards he's gotten, none of it would have been worth a flip if you hadn't been around."
Gosalyn sniffled a little and dried her eyes."Really?"
Launchpad gave her a node."Gosh, Gos. Right after the moment he met you, he knew he had to have you in his life. He loved you so much, kiddo. He would've done anything and everything for you. You made his life...well, worth living."
What he'd said made her smile a little, a foreign action Launchpad swore he'd never see her do again. She dried the fresh tears that had fallen onto her rosy cheeks, gaining composure slowly but surely.
"You know, there is a way to keep him alive." Launchpad looked at the girl, who looked at him, incredulous.
"There is?"
"Through you. Everyone lives on through the lives of their children."
As his words registered in her mind, her smile faltered. With narrowed eyes, she shook her head and sighed.
"No, Lp. I'm not going to continue his legacy." She said darkly, in a tone that made Launchpad's blood run icy. "Gos, why not? You've always been so interested in being a superhero..."
"Because, my father died in an attempt to make the world a better place. But he couldn't. No one can. There's always going to be hate, prejudice, and evil as long as mankind is still present."
Launchpad sighed as she said this, opening his palms and looking at them closely. They were shaking.
"Gos, he made it better for the good people. The ones who needed him. There's been a lot of times that I think...well, I know that, if it wasn't for Dw, then the country might actually crumble at the hands of some horrible dictator. The world might have ended, in a few cases." He gave a little shudder, trying despertly to rid his body of the chill that resontated with him despite the warm night air. He turned and looked at her oncemore, his eyes pleading. "Gos, I'd hate to think of a world that doesn't have that kind of protector in it."
Gosalyn pursed her lips, thinking. Finally, she stood from her postion on the ledge, her face in a scowl. "That protector's gone. I'm not going to take his place. I never want to see another gun as long as I live."Her voice hummed at him mercilessly, a characteristic so unlike her own when she spoke to Launchpad.
With that, she stepped into the darkness of the tower, leaving Launchpad alone.

With a defeated sight, Launchpad cupped his hands together and gazed into the night sky, watching with mounting curiosity as the full moon's milky surface bubbled and melted into a deep reddish color. The same color that resembled the giant pools of blood lying stagnant after last night's massacre.

After a moment of thinking how he was going to manage without his best friend's help, Launchpad sighed and stood up, his arms feeling too heavy to move from their lifeless dangle at his sides.
"Oh, Dw. I'm so sorry. Some sidekick I turned out to be."
He stood a moment with his head drooped like a wilting flower, chin to chest. He waited patiently, as if awaiting a reply. Yet none came. Feeling weaker than ever, he turned and sauntered into the smothering darkness of Darkwing Tower.

*************************

Morgana unclipped the bun atop her head, now half-fallen from neglect. The silky black locks fell around her shoulders in an almost perfect form, laying elegantly across her face.
Drake loved her hair like that.
At that thought, Morgana's hands reached to her face as she began to sob. Not loud sobs, but soft ones. The kind of sobs that send a ripple of pain throughout the body.
She trudged slowly in front of the long, opened window in the bedroom of McCawber Manor, the light from the reddening moon splashing a ruddy tint across the landscape. She immediately quieted herself as she went to the window, gazing out at the moon in a hushed gasp. "A Harvest moon..." she said in a voice that resembled an old wooden door creaking open. She stared at the large orb as it grew, its colors darkening into a sinister glare.

With a pounding heart, Morgana ran to the opposite side of the darkened room and flung herself onto her spellbook, which lay on an ancient podium encased in cobwebs. Opening it, she flipped through the pages with reckless and frantic regard, stopping once her eyes lit upon the page she needed. Her eyes danced madly in her head as she read down the page, the tiny hairs on the back of her neck prickling as she went.
"....hasn't ever been seen before in this century...last seen after Joan of Arc was unjustly burned at the stake in 1431....it feasts on the blood of the living until proper order is restored..." she nearly choked on her own words as the sentence puffed out of her ragged breath.
Staggering backwards until she was pressed against her ancient bureau, she placed her hands across her mouth, eyes wide and petrified.
"There's a bad moon rising-" she managed to exhale into the night air, which had grown all too chillngly cool.
"-we're all going to die."

Copywright Lesley Hall May 22, 2004. None of the characters are owned by me, nor is the song "Stairway to heaven" by Led Zeppelin. Disney owns everything..of course we all know that...and I took the characters without permission, but not for profit.