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Screw the Bassist	By : LadyAriaa Category: +1 through F > Darkwing Duck Views: 1562 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Darkwing Duck or any of its characters. All rights belong to disney. No money was made from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Author’s Note: Hmmmm… not sure how I feel about this chapter. It put me through a LOT of crap so at this point I’m just sick of lookin at it. So, hope you enjoy this train wreck!
Warning: Terrible plant puns

The first rays of dawn fought against the smog surrounding the perpetually shrouded city, forcing their way into the still darkened suite where the Fearsome Five’s most recent addition still slept. Within the dim room, Reggie stirred as the sunlight stroked against his face, coaxing him to consciousness. Blue eyes were pale with exhaustion, straining against the light to take in his surroundings. The bassist lifted himself heavily from the comfort of the oversized bed, groaning at the stiffness in his body. He put a hand to the wound on his arm as a sting of pain reminded him of its presence. Stiff fingers picked absently at the dried blood encrusting the feathers there.
He didn’t feel like he had just slept for fourteen hours straight. Every inch of his body felt as though the energy had been forcibly drained from it. He didn’t feel bad per say, he felt more like he would die from sheer exhaustion. Only the pale morning light filtering through the rips in the dark curtains offered any solace. If only Reggie had noticed the streams of scattered light were the only thing that made him feel remotely better.
"Good morning sleeping beauty."
Even as Reggie turned to the voice beside him, his movements were sluggish. Half-lidded eyes focused slowly on the dog sitting in the chair by the far wall. Had the bassist been more aware he surely would have seen him sooner.
"Tell me you haven't been watching me all night," he said his horse voice barely above a whisper.
"Heh, don't flatter yourself Reggie. I was instructed to check on your... condition."
"And?"
“Well, you still look pretty normal to me.”
“Hate to shatter your perception of reality there Bud, but I’ve never exactly been normal.”
“You’re kidding, right? Have you seen who I live with? You’re downright average compared to what I’m accustomed to,” Bud chortled, his form bubbling in amusement.
“Yeah, ok,” Reggie muttered rubbing his hands along his weary eyes “But I’m sure not used to it.”
The drummer tipped his head quizzically at the drowsy duck, wondering if he should even bother to question that statement at this point.
“Well, how do ya feel?” he questioned, deciding against any unnecessary inquiry.
“Still pretty fucked up. I need a smoke.”
“Hmm funny you should mention that since I took the liberty of obtaining some smokes for you. I couldn’t tell what your brand was,” Bud replied.
“That’s probably because I roll my own. Never exactly had the funds to finance anything else before,” Reggie answered, moving slowly to hang his legs over the side of the large bed.
Bud flowed to the plastic bag sitting on the dresser where the bassist’s coat still resided. He chucked one of the cellophane protected boxes onto the bed behind the mallard. For some reason he couldn’t stop his eyes from flicking down momentarily to the other’s now visible tail feathers. He wasn’t sure why he couldn’t take his eyes off the white plumage; it wasn’t like he hadn’t seen enough tail in his time.
The soft thud of the pack hitting the bed’s black sheets prompted Reggie’s attention to the small box. Even the simple movement of looking over his shoulder seemed difficult for the worn-out duck. Bud couldn’t help but feel a bit bad. The bassist grabbed the pack, studying it for a moment before pulling the tab that removed the clear casing. The neat rows of cigarettes were a strangely fascinating sight for the mallard. Real smokes had always been a luxury he couldn’t afford.
His movements were almost apprehensive as he pulled one of the perfect tubes from the pack. Placing the cigarette in his mouth almost felt weird, but Reggie needed a smoke so bad he could care less at the moment. Feathered hands searched his chest for the lighter he was accustomed to having within reach. His eyes widened as his fingers met his bare chest. He had to force the blush away at the realization that he had completely forgotten the coat had been removed.
“Uh,” Reggie mumbled over his shoulder at the dripping canine behind him “Wanna throw me my lighter there Bud.”
The drummer chuckled slightly at the strangely uncomfortable way the duck was acting. His wet arm reached back to the table, fishing in the coat’s inside pocket. He considered just throwing the whole coat at the mallard, as it was obviously a source of comfort, but he felt the need to observe the duck without it for just awhile longer. Once his search had produced the cheap, yellow lighter, he tossed it gently to rest beside the freshly opened cigarette pack. Bud was pretty sure the action received a mumbled a thank you, but he could hardly tell with the soft way the other said it. The cigarette was lit within seconds, and Reggie couldn’t help but take a long, satisfied drag from it. After a moment, he pulled the tobacco from his mouth staring at the smoking stick with a puzzled expression on his face.
“Something wrong?” Bud questioned.
“No. I’m just…” he trailed off, placing the cigarette in his mouth once again, inhaling deeply and holding the smoke in his lungs for a moment before letting it billow slowly from his beak. “Not used to filters.” He finally finished.
Bud laughed slightly, moving to join the duck on the other side of the bed so that he could pull the tattered curtains apart to let in the orange morning light. Reggie squinted at the sudden increase in illumination shuddering slightly as the rays contacted his body. Damn that sun feels good. He thought curiously.
“Well you can get whatever you want later,” Bud said as he pulled the drapes away from the large window. “You certainly have the funds for it now.”
Reggie glanced at the drummer’s watery back briefly before pulling the smoke quickly from his mouth and ripping the small filter from the end. He took another hit from the altered cigarette, grinning slightly at the delightful harshness of the unfiltered smoke. That’s more like it.
“I doubt Negs will really let you go anywhere at this point but you can always just have someone…” Bud trailed off as he turned back towards his newest band mate. His dark eyes widened as he regarded the duck in front of him.
“What?” Reggie questioned irately, glaring at the dog.
“You’re uh… lookin’ a little green there Reg,” Bud replied, rubbing at the back of his head.
“Oh, big news,” he snapped. “I told you I still feel a little fucked up.”
“No, I mean you’re literally green.”
“Whaat?” Reggie said in disbelief, raising himself up so he could make his way to the full length mirror nearby.
The still burning cigarette fell to the floor as he took in his appearance. The pale emerald tinge was subtle, but noticeable none the less. Reggie’s mouth hung open at the sight as he slid his fingers slowly across his feathered face. After a moment of studying his own reflection in disbelief, he snapped his eyes over so that he could look at Bud in the mirror. He shifted his gaze back to his face, hands never leaving the tinted feathers. “Get out,” he whispered softly.
“Look Reggie, I don’t think—”
“Just get out!” he snapped at the drummer, dropping his hands to grip angrily at the table in front of him as he glared at the dog’s reflection.
Bud didn’t reply. He simply regarded the angry bassist for a moment before slipping silently from the room and closing the door behind him. Reggie sighed heavily as the other left, looking back to the mirror to glare at his reflection. A small hint of color brought his gaze to the black nest he called his hair. Among the raven strands, a small patch of abnormal color stuck through.
“What the hell?” Reggie questioned quietly, reaching up to grasp the soft purple filaments. He winced slightly at the twinge of pain brought on by yanking at the oddities. Great, he thought to himself, this shit’s attached.
He itched absently at the black hair surrounding the intruding follicles stopping only when he felt the strands loosen. His eyes widened, a dread-filled look meeting his eyes in the mirror as he pulled a clump of his thick hair from his head. The resulting yell brought Bud back into the room without as much as a courtesy knock.
“What the hell Reggie? Why’d you—whoa… what happened to your hair?” the now snickering puddle questioned as he took in the other’s altered appearance.
The panicked duck was standing before the large mirror holding hunks of his once abundant locks. In their place, small clumps of bright purple strands were growing.
“What happened?! It’s fucking falling out is what happened!” Reggie yelled furiously in response.
“I can see that,” Bud muttered, looking the frantic duck over curiously. “You… feeling ok?” he finished awkwardly, unsure of what else to say.
The dumbfounded expression he gained in response told him that wasn’t what Reggie wanted to hear. “I look like a seasick circus performer with a balding problem! How do you think I feel?!” he yelled, yanking more chunks of his hair out harshly in his rage.
Bud had to hold back a chuckle at the comical picture the mallard painted. His mood became more serious as he noticed that Reggie’s hair wasn’t the only thing that was falling out. All over his body, patches of white feathers had been stripped from his skin. The flesh beneath was a sickly shade of green.
The drummer swallowed around the ill feeling in his watery throat: if anyone knew what it was like to experience such a drastic change, it was him. He moved toward the panicked duck gently so as not to make the other move away. A soft smile forced itself onto his dripping features, a subconscious attempt at comfort, as he slipped an arm around Reggie’s angrily shaking shoulders.
“No worries Reg. I’m sure Negaduck wouldn’t let you stay lookin’ like this. We’ll get coffee. And booze. Those make everything better.” Bud said, moving the other towards the door once the mallard had collected his new pack of cigarettes.
Reggie grabbed his trench coat as they exited the room, pulling himself from the watery embrace to slip into the security it provided. He could feel more of the deteriorating feathers being pulled out by the action. He couldn’t help the slight wince that crossed his face at the feeling.
The trip to the kitchen was silent. Reggie distracted himself from his thoughts by observing the house as they moved to the lower level. The shady halls were much like the rest of the home: elaborate and littered with sinister designs. The kitchen itself was quite large, but rather unassuming compared to the rest of the manor that Reggie had so far seen. Upon entering they could see that the lead singer was already awake, ear pressed to his cell phone as he listened to an obviously irritating caller. He rubbed between his eyes as he listened, growing more pissed off by the minute. “Look just get it done. And DON’T fucking call me again unless the world as we know it is about to end. YOU GOT THAT!” he yelled, ending the call by smashing the defenseless phone on the counter he had been leaning against. As he registered that the others had entered the room, he looked over Reggie’s ridiculous appearance with a cocked eyebrow and a slight grin. “What the fuck happened to you?” he asked, snorting in amusement at the other mallard.
“Apparently I have a balding problem,” Reggie grumbled in response, ripping another filter from one of his new smokes so he could light it.
“Yeah well, you’d better hope it gets better. Cause you look like a fuckin’ joke right now,” the singer replied, still snickering.
The bassist snarled at the singer as a part of him snapped slightly at the comment. He was about to open his mouth to say something that obviously would have infuriated the still smirking mallard when Bud decided to interfere.
“Why don’t we just go get some fresh air Reg,” Bud interjected to stop the angry duck from getting himself into trouble. Reggie jumped as the drummer placed an arm to his back, jerking harshly away from the other’s touch. Bud couldn’t help but feel a bit put-off by the action.
“Whatever,” Reggie muttered, wrapping his arms around himself tightly as he moved toward the large balcony that came off of the kitchen.
Negaduck narrowed his eyes at the pair; something told him he needed to keep an eye on the most recent addition to their little “family.” He followed silently behind them, giving a warning look as the drummer shot him a glance over his shoulder. Bud turned away quickly, unwilling to face the stare the other was giving him.
Almost immediately upon stepping into the world beyond, Reggie felt a surge of something quite inexplicable. The strange strands of hair that had taken the place of his once abundant mane grew quickly as the sunlight seemed to seep into every crevice of his body. He gasped at the feeling, shudders running throughout his body at the unexpectedly enjoyable feeling the sun provided. He'd never felt so good. Shaky knees gave out beneath him, bringing his slim body to the ground. The trembles grew in intensity and pleasure as he soaked in the life-giving rays. His bill parted in ecstasy to allow a hesitant groan forth. Had he been in his right mind he may have stopped to be embarrassed.
Bud watched the practically orgasmic duck smugly, grin widening on his face as he observed the spectacle. It was certainly not what he had expected.
“Well now, isn’t that interesting,” Negaduck said quietly to himself as he approached the kneeling duck. He gripped the black coat covering the other tightly, pulling it roughly away from Reggie’s body so that he could observe exactly what was happening to the other.
Before his eyes, the once subtle color that covered the duck deepened to a brilliant green. Already slim arms shrank to unnatural proportions and once feathered fingers melded together in a painful-looking display. The few remaining patches of plumage were pushed from green skin as the change became more aggressive. Wooded talons forced themselves through the feeble material of Reggie's boots, lending a strangely menacing look to the transformation.
Negaduck grinned evilly, thoroughly pleased at the progression of the transformation. Now that’s more like it, he thought to himself as he dropped the trench coat to the floor. The drummer at his side supported a less enthralled expression as he watched Reggie’s tail feathers fall from his backside, leaves quickly growing in their place. He was going to miss that tail.
The tremors wracking Reggie’s body grew in severity as the alterations finished. He pressed his sweating forehead to the marble tiles covering the balcony floor, panting as the trembling began to subside. Reggie breathed deeply for a moment to compose himself before moving his newly strengthened frame into a sitting position. Lavender bangs were slicked against his damp face, framing blue eyes in a colorful manner that seemed ill-suited to the moody band member. The expression that formed on Reggie’s face in response to the changes was somewhere between shock and disgust. He examined his leafy hands, forcing his face back into a neutral mask as he fumed internally at the sudden lack of fingers. Well that’s just fuckin’ great, he thought angrily.
Negaduck laughed slightly as he began to roam around the bassist, taking in his new appearance. “Well, it’s a little colorful for my taste, but no one can say you’re not interesting now,” he said, smirking at the fruits of his latest devious deed.
“I’ll say,” Bud muttered, “You turned him into a walking salad bar. ”
The singer shrugged, turning away from the others to reenter the manor. “Yeah well, you don’t exactly fit in with this crowd without looking like a freak show. ”
Bud could still hear the mallard laughing to himself as he moved into the kitchen, but he ignored him in favor of observing Reggie’s responses. The shocked duck was still staring at his hands despondently, apparently oblivious the world around him. After a moment he lifted his arms, moving his eyes along the thin appendages before shifting his legs out from under him to look at the talons now protruding from his boots. He pressed his heels against the ground, easily slipping the worn, oversized shoes from his feet so that he could get a better look at the wooded toes. A sudden thought seemed to strike the mallard as he took in the sight of his bark-covered legs. He pulled the waist of his pants away from his smooth, green skin his eyes widening at the lack of a certain well-loved body part.
“Oh, no fucking way!” he yelled, practically shaking with rage.
Bud had to stifle a laugh at the long string of obscenities that fell from the bassist’s mouth at the unfortunate observation. He had to admit he had been none too happy about losing his own little friend—not that he hadn’t found ways to make up for the loss. He flowed behind the panicked duck slipping his hands beneath the other’s vine-like arms so that he could lift him to his feet. He grabbed Reggie’s black coat from the ground as an afterthought as he guided the still fuming mallard back into the manor.
“Don’t worry Reg,” he said trying to calm the other down, “You’re a plant for fuck’s sake. I’m sure you can just grow yourself some hard wood if necessary.” Bud couldn’t help but snicker slightly at his own pun, but the furious glare from the duck at his side whipped the grin from his face quickly. “What? Too soon,” he questioned innocently.
Reggie wrenched himself roughly away from the other in response snatching his trench coat from Bud’s grip as he stormed over to the circular dining table near the large windows overlooking the city. Bud sighed slightly at the lack of humor the duck possessed. Someone really needs to loosen that boy up, he thought as he moved to one of the many cabinets situated on the room’s walls. He searched quickly through the cupboards to find the precious liquid that he knew could be found within their inky depths. The staff knew to always keep the kitchen well stocked with alcohol.
The drummer shivered happily at the introduction of the intoxicating molecules into his liquid form. The dark liquor mingled with his water lending him a slightly amber tint. Bud glanced across the room at the still sneering bassist now sitting at the table. His focus shifted as Negaduck snapped his fingers at him, gesturing for the bottle in his hand. The duck poured a generous amount of the whiskey into his otherwise plain coffee. He grinned in satisfaction at the mix of caffeine and intoxicant now present in the cup. Bud glanced back at the mutated mallard sitting across the room suddenly curious about the change.
“So boss,” he questioned, “One thing I don’t get. Why a plant?”
Negaduck shrugged in response, taking a long drink from the whiskey bottle before answering. “Hey, there isn’t exactly a surplus of mutation devices in the near vicinity. I just took what I could get.”
“What… exactly, did that, THING do to me?” Reggie decided to question, focusing angry eyes on the pair still standing by the far counter as he waited for an answer.
“Hell if I know, don’t you listen? Not my fuckin’ machine,” Negaduck replied.
“Well it sucked,” Reggie muttered lighting yet another smoke to try and ease his foul mood.
“I’ll bet. But if Elmo and faireboy ever decide to grace us with their presence, I’m sure tonight’s activity will be more to your liking,” Negaduck replied, handing the bottle back to Bud “Where the hell are those two dimwits anyway?” he added as an afterthought, shifting his eyes around the room.
“Must still be at that greenhouse,” Bud replied, pausing to drink deeply from the newly reacquired bottle. “Ol' Sparky wasn’t exactly too keen on leaving last night.”
“Well they’d better get their asses back here soon,” Negaduck growled as he poured more coffee into his now empty mug.
It didn’t take long before the pair in question finally decided to rejoin their band mates. They could be heard from all the way down the hall as they made their way to the kitchen. The giggling duo entered the room with little stealth. Elmo was practically hanging off of his snickering companion, making him look quite intoxicated. Reggie stared in disbelief, the others were accustomed to this sort of behavior and they were well aware that the rodent only acted drunk so early because he lacked sufficient electricity. It took a moment for the two to realize that the others were present. For the first few seconds they were silent as they looked at their fellow band members. The reaction they provided only worsened Reggie’s mood.
Elmo broke out in laughter, pointing at the flowery bassist and practically falling over in his amusement. Jack seemed momentarily unable to produce a reaction; he simply stared, jaw dropped and a stupid grin on his face.
“Ho-ly crap Reggie,” he finally said, holding the snorting, unstable guitarist at his side tightly to keep him from falling over. “Lookin’gooood,” he finished with a wink.
“Well at least he’s interesting now,” Elmo offered once his giggles had subsided. He stumbled away from his fellow guitarist, moving toward the long counter at the back of the kitchen shakily.
“He certainly is,” Jack agreed, moving to stand in front of the bassist now that he wasn’t needed to support his friend. “I mean, he still looks like a douche. But his ugly levels have certainly decreased,” he said, snickering to himself.
“Gee, thanks for noticing,” Reggie mumbled angrily.
A sharp zap from across the room caused the mallard to look over to where the resident rodent was currently shoving one of his many wires into the outlet. His sagging hair immediately stood on end, returning it to its normally spiked state. Elmo shivered happily at the surge, moving sluggishly to sit at the table beside Reggie. His laughing resumed as he seemed to notice the freshly mutated duck once again. The green of Reggie’s face deepened at the continued degradation. He was getting sick of being such a source of amusement to everyone.
“Alright shut up and sit down! We got shit to discuss and we’re already behind waiting for you two,” Negaduck snapped grabbing a pile of papers from the counter.
“I still can’t believe you actually slept out there,” Bud said shifting fluidly into one of the tall chairs situated at the long island near the table where the others were congregating.
“Pfft, who slept?” Jack said with a devious look to his partner-in-crime. Elmo couldn’t help but grin stupidly in response.
Jack plopped himself unceremoniously into the chair beside his companion, resting both elbows on the table as he observed the plant duck across from them.
“What?!” Reggie snapped at the other once he could no longer stand the annoying observation.
“Reggie the veggie,” Jack said distantly, “I’m lichen the new look,” he finished as he snickered at the other.
“Heh, you shoulda seen him earlier,” Negaduck snorted as he rifled through the papers.
“You mean he was uglier than this earlier?” Jack asked a slightly disappointed look on his face. “Now I’m sad we didn’t get back in thyme to see that. Are you re-leaved that you’re so pretty now Reggie?” he said, twining his fingers together so he could rest his chin on them as he batted his lashes at the perturbed duck.
“Oh, shut up already… it’s not even that funny,” Reggie muttered putting his cigarette out on the metal tabletop with more force that was probably necessary.
“Actually it is a little funny,” Negaduck said with a snigger, never taking his eyes from the papers he was still searching through. “Because it annoys you. A lot. ”
“Yeah, yew shouldn’t be such a sap Reggie,” Elmo added snickering nasally at his surprisingly successful play on words.
“Ooo, nice one. But careful Mo Mo, he might get a little… hosta. ”
Jack and Elmo finally broke down in a round of laughter at the angry green tone that spread itself across Reggie’s face.
“Alright assholes, if everyone is quite finished making stupid puns,” Negaduck snarled over the incessant giggling as he began to circle the table.
“Hey I had more. But go on,” Jack interjected as he attempted to get his laughing under control. He winced slightly at the hard slap that was delivered to the back of his head.
“As I was saying,” the singer continued harshly “If everyone is FINISHED being a moron. I think it’s time we gave those dear people outside what they’ve been waiting for. ” The smirk he gave Reggie made the duck shiver slightly. He didn’t think he could take much more at the moment.

Ugh, so many things I’d change about this, but I wrote it so it probably looks worse to me than anyone else x) so anyway, next chapter coming soon!
Oh, and yees Bud's line about the salad bar came from the show, I take no credit for it.
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Screw the Bassist