Chapter Two

Honker moved through the dark night with more on his mind than he initially intended. So much had been presented to him in so little time he was afraid he’d forget an important part of what had been said. He loosened his tie as he continued to walk down the street. The bus was deserted at this hour, and so were the streets. He didn’t mind public transportation, but he wondered if given his new caseload if he should take a car to work from now on. He wished he could look over those files. Memorize those agents' names and faces, but he understood why they had to stay. Only once before had a list of S.H.U.S.H. agents' names been removed from the premises, and a good number of them wound up dead before the list was retrieved. He glanced around the quiet cul du sac. Avian Way had barely changed over the years, new families had moved in and a few houses were remodeled but nothing drastic. The director had sent him home to sleep, how did he expect him to do that knowing that Bulba was out there? He ran a hand through his yellow hair feathers.

“Hey Mr. Big stuff!” sang a voice ahead of him.

He raised his eyes to meet her. Gosalyn was standing out by the Mallard’s mail box her arms crossed with a smile. He remembered what Hooter had to tell her, would she really have turned out differently if she had known? Her shockingly red hair was tied firmly back in a high ponytail and her athletic form was covered in a baseball jersey and jeans.

"Late night, huh?" she said as he approached.

He smiled weakly in response, she raised an eyebrow.

“What’s up, Honk?”

“Nothing’s up. I’m just tired is all…”

“Yeah right, you look like Dr. Slug just landed in your lap.”

She stepped out onto the sidewalk to meet him. He closed his eyes with a sigh.

“Gosalyn, J. Gander Hooter wants to talk to you.”

“Me? Or Quiverwing?” She smiled.

He groaned inwardly. Quiverwing Quack, her “super hero” alias. He understood the appeal of being a masked hero but had grown out of the phase years ago. It wasn’t surprising she hadn’t, considering her father’s track record.

“You.”

“Really? What about?”

He shrugged. He couldn’t say anything because once he did she’d poke and prod until he spilled his guts. Which was another side effect she had on him. She eyed him thoughtfully with her brilliant green eyes.

“You think he knows about Quiverwing’s identity?”

“Nah. It’s probably something boring.”

“Yeah, well… that’s why you have to become Director of S.H.U.S.H. …” she started with a smile. He felt the pit of his stomach fall out, he had almost forgotten about Hooter asking him to be his apprentice. She didn’t notice his discomfort. “Think about it Honk! You could fill me in on what’s going on! Me and Dad would get to see so much action!” He pounded her palm with a fist enthusiastically.

“No offense Gos, but I think your Dad should look into retiring.”

“Barking up the wrong tree there Honk and you know it,” she said flatly. He sighed again and found her hand placed gently on his shoulder. “How’s it feel to be a full fledged agent?” She smiled at him sending his stomach into knots; she always changed the subject with such finesse.

“… Tiring. I’ve got so much paper work to do my fingers are cramping up.”

“Ya know Morgana might be able to help you with that.”

“No thanks, I think I’d rather not have my fingers transformed into millipedes.”

“I see your point.” She grinned.

“So no patrol tonight?" he asked, knowing the answer.

“Nah, Darkwing’s on it. I thought he was grumpy when we were kids but now he’s an old curmudgeon. He told me if I followed him he’d take my car away.”

“He’s just looking out for you…” Honker responded fully understanding Mr. Mallard’s reasoning better than she could know. After all, wasn’t that what he was doing?

“Oh please. I can look out for myself,” she grumbled in annoyance. He smiled. Even though she was eighteen he was reunited with the nine year old girl he had met almost every day. “Okay you can go to sleep now Agent Muddlefoot,” she said with a playful smirk. “I’d watch out though Tank showed up this afternoon, looks like he’s crashing at the house again.”

“Wonderful,” Honker moaned, hoping his brother hadn’t redirected the demolition business into his bedroom. It wouldn’t have been the first time he’d come home to find a hole in his wall with Tank laughing loudly in the hallway. Some people never changed. There was a kiss planted on his beak before he had time to pull himself out of his musings and Gosalyn was headed back toward her front door. He watched her as his mouth went dry. He was in charge of protecting her, Taurus Bulba was out there, he couldn’t fail her. He felt a headache coming on.

He unlocked and opened the door to the quiet house. He, of course, used quiet in the loosest form of the word. His father could be heard snoring in any part of the house as loudly as if you were right beside him. He wondered how his mother got to sleep at all being next to the source of the din. The duller sound of Tank’s horrendous snores mixed in with the usual choir. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about facing him tonight, he thought. He rubbed his eyes as he scaled the stairs and moved toward his room. He paused for a moment, had a shadow passed the door or was his exhaustion playing tricks on him? He couldn’t hear himself think over the noise and opened his door with a shake of his head. A caped shadow with a wide brimmed hat stood before his window.

“Good evening Mr. Mallard,” Honker said plainly as he moved into his room, closing the door behind him.

Darkwing Duck was nearing fifty yet hadn’t aged as normal people did. He was still trim and in excellent physical form; in a way, Honker envied him. He pulled the tie off over his head and sat on the bed, Darkwing’s cool eyes following him as we went.

“Trying to get her to ask me to retire again?”

“You’re not as young as you used to be Darkwing,” Honker responded.

“Neither are you.”

His father let out a wall shaking snort, and Darkwing winced openly.

“How can you sleep in this?”

“I grew up with it,” he shrugged. “Why are you here?”

“I think you know why.”

“To… get back the egg beater my mother borrowed?” Honker saw Darkwing scowl.

“No, our problems are a bit bigger, meaner, and cybernetic don’t you think?”

Honker closed his eyes with a frown.

“If I did know what you were referring to, it would be official S.H.U.S.H. business and none of your concern.”

“Honker, you can’t pull that ‘official S.H.U.S.H. business’ line on me. You may have been put in charge of the operation but I’m still her father and if she’s in danger you can bet your tail feathers I'll be involved.”

“We don’t know if he’s even going to come after her. If you go out recklessly to find him you may put the idea in his head.”

“You sound like Hooter’s flashquack,” Darkwing grumbled. “Honker, you know as well as I do that he will come after her, after both of us. Old habits die hard, but old grudges die harder.”

“Mr. Mallard, I really can’t think about this anymore. Not tonight.” He took off his glasses and placed them on the nightstand. The shadowy figure took him in irritably.

“I know you want to protect her, but so do I." When he saw the conversation was not going to continue Darkwing let out a sigh. "Don’t go turning into Grizlikof on me kid.” With out a second’s hesitation Darkwing was out the window and gone.

The morning started not too far from how he imagined it would. As he slept a sleep heavy with nightmares, he had been set up to receive a rude awakening. As five o’ clock rolled along a loud “bang” erupted from under his bed, brutally ripped from his rest he shot up quickly. He saw the smoke pouring out from under his bed with a rank smell to go along with it. He dropped to his knees and fished around for the stink bomb. His fingers found it and he chucked it angrily out the window. Laughter boomed from his doorway as he stuck his head outside to cleanse his nostrils of the stench.

“Geeze Honk, you stink! Why don’t you try taking a shower once in a while?”

“Good morning Tank…” Honker gagged.

The hearty laughter started again as his brother moved down the hall. With a heaving sigh Honker lifted the collar of the uniform he had slept in. Sure enough it stunk. He moved through the stench of sulfur and grabbed a clean suit to hang outside to try and get the smell out. He made his way through the house, knowing he left a trail of stink behind him. His mother was already busily buzzing about the house. Why she was up so early cleaning everyday was a mystery of the Muddlefoot house he didn’t feel the need to investigate.

“Oh my Honker dear, are you wearing new cologne?” sang his mother pleasantly.

“Sure,” he grunted, too annoyed to correct her.

“Well my, my, it certainly is pungent!”

He let out a growling sigh as he opened the back door. He moved across the yard to the clothes line where he put his uniform out to air in the crisp spring morning. He let his eyes travel to the house next door. All the windows were dark, and he knew they wouldn’t wake for hours. Gosalyn rarely got out of bed before noon since she graduated high school. Mr. Mallard, well, he didn’t either. He wished his family weren’t morning people either. It wasn’t just mornings either, they were all the time people. There would be days when he came home at midnight to find them carrying on like it was the afternoon, bright and alert. The gentle breeze wafted the stink that soaked his suit back to his attention and he sulked back into the house.

“Tankard Muddlefoot whadd’ I tell ya! Don’t set skunk bombs off in yer brother’s room!” His father’s voice was never really threatening. It always held a laugh in it that suggested his mind was constantly elsewhere.

“He was expectin’ it. It’s how we say ‘hello’ , isn’t that right Honk?” sneered his massive brother. Tank had always been bigger than him, and as they aged that didn’t change. He was heavy set with messy brown hair and had adopted a few more chins than he was born with. Despite his girth he was still strong and two heads taller than Honker. But Honker could still run faster.

“Yeah, you and the rest of the third grade,” Honker mumbled.

“Tank is going to be staying with us for a while isn’t that wonderful?” chimed in his mother happily as she put on a pot of coffee.

“What happened to your apartment? Did that get ‘fumigated’ too?” Honker asked curtly.

“Nah, his girlfriend gave him tha’ boot!” his father said with his ever present chuckle.

“Surprise surprise…” Honker yawned.

“Who needs her? She was crampin’ my style anyway.” Tank harshly sat at the kitchen table.

“Of course she was, dear,” Binkie smiled. He often wondered if his parents’ brains inhabited the same place. That place where candy came from the sky like rain and fluffy bunnies were best friends with princesses. “How was the office yesterday dear?” She turned her smiling eyes to him.

“Oh…well...” He blinked.

“He got a paper cut. Honestly Honk, you’re such a dork. Who joins S.H.U.S.H. to do paper work!” jabbed his brother as he grabbed an orange from the fruit bowl.

“Now Tank we’re awful proud of little Honker! I mean, shucks it’s not every day one o’ us Muddlefoots gets a nice government job!” Herb piped in happily as he opened his newspaper directly to the comic strips.

A nice government job? As he worked his way to the shower he wondered if his parents even knew where he worked sometimes. It took a good deal of scrubbing but he finally managed not to smell like the inside of a dumpster. His room, however, would need time to air out while he was at S.H.U.S.H. headquarters. He retrieved the key and card from his stench ridden suit, and set off to work.

The office he shared with three other Agents was crammed with people. He had to squeeze himself into the room through the milling crowd. Agents O’Leary, Carson, and Delpino were the source of the fuss as he expected. They were more keen to gossip and cause trouble than get work done and it seemed today was no different. He wondered if his being stationed in the same office as them was another ‘test’ of Hooter’s. Carson noticed him and greeted him with a dramatic wave of his hand.

“Here he is, the man of the hour!”

All the people who were still in his way moved aside suddenly, like he had some kind of disease. He straightened out his suit in a huff.

“What are you talking about?”

“Have a look!” O’Leary handed him an envelope that looked like it was in the process of being opened. “We uh… graciously wanted to check it out for you to be sure it wasn’t….uh...”

“A bomb!” finished Delpino quickly.

A choir of ‘yeah, yeah, a bomb’, sounded as he snatched the envelope away from them angrily. There was large swirly handwriting on the address label that simply read “Agent Muddlefoot”. People closed in around him anxiously as he took out the contents. A formal looking letter slid into his hand the same curly writing adorned the page. The header was enough to make him sick. “From the desk of Taurus Bulba”. He stared at it as the swarming agents broke out into whispers as the information was passed along amongst them.

“Vhat is goink on here!” bellowed a loud growling voice that sent the on lookers scrambling out of the office. Chief Agent Grizzlikof lumbered into room only after reprimanding the agents that were still within ear shot.

Honker looked around to find his ‘roommates’ sitting at their desks doing their best to look terribly busy. The bear was upon him.

“Vhat is yoor name, Agent?”

“M..Muddlefoot, sir.”

“Vell yoo should keep in mind, Agent Muddlefoot, dat dis ees not an appropriate place to throw a party,” snarled the bear down his long gnarled snout.

“I wasn’t, sir. I didn’t invite those people here!” he started, abashed. The bear held up a massive hand with impatience.

“Do not repeat dis fiasco again or I vill see you get penalized personally.” Grizlikof gave his companions a thorough glare before he left.

“Well… what does it say?” O’Leary spoke up as the fuming bear removed himself.

Honker ignored him as he sat down. He solemnly looked over the document.

From the desk of Taurus Bulba:

"Agent" Muddlefoot,
You certainly have surprised me, little boy. I never expected such a weak child to survive past adolescence. I suggest you keep that clean cut beak of yours out of my way or you will not live long enough to enjoy adulthood. Tell Gosalyn I look forward to seeing her again very soon.

--TB

There was no return address, no signs it had been sent through traditional post at all. Someone must have put it on his desk. He cradled his head in his hands as he thought. Was this a prank? Darkwing wouldn’t do this to try and get him to divulge whatever information he had to him, would he? Would Bulba really be so straightforward? Yes, he decided. Bulba was arrogant, it wouldn’t be unheard of for the villain to do this himself. But someone who knew him well enough would have no trouble mimicking it. There was nothing else in the envelope and it didn’t look like any clues would be found on it. Maybe he should take it to the lab to see if Dr. Bellum could find anything? He got up from his chair taking his items with him, not answering any of the inquiries his office mates were sending his way. He would have to collect his team together today. If this really was Bulba there wasn’t a moment to lose.