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Drakes	By : passionsnapey Category: +1 through F > Darkwing Duck Views: 4567 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Darkwing Duck, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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MWAHAHAHAHAHA! ITS ALIVE! ITS ALIVE! ITS STILL ALIVE! MWAHAHAHA!

Yes I will still be working on this story. I'm happy to say it is not dead, I just needed time to get back into the Disney fandom. Thanks to the Gummi Bears I am now proud to say that I am back, for the most part. You can check out my Gummi Bears fanfiction over at my main page.

My writing is heading into dangerous crossover territory in this chapter. You have been warned. As to how I manage to handle writing about two Drakes, well they are named up to this point as Darkwing and Negaduck. Drake Mallard would be Drake when in chapters when the viewpoint is of somebody who doesn't know who he is. Same for Negaduck, but since his nick name 'Negs' has already been said several times, it was a little more fluid for him. However, this chapter will change things a whole bunch, and the shoe will be on the other foot so to speak, in terms of names. Makes it so much easier for me anyway. On with the show!

AFFLUENCE

Darkwing woke with a start. He rolled over, stretched, scratched his feathers, and rolled over again...into empty space. THUMP!

“WAK!”

Lifting his head, he peered up over the bed, where a lump, his lovers lump, should have been. An empty expanse of bedsheet met his gaze.

“Right. He decided to sleep in his own room. What a grouch,” Drake grumbled, and stood up, scratching his feathers.

Trying to drag Negaduck to bed last night had been like trying to drag the Rat Catcher out of the ocean; wasn’t going to happen. Something had been on his broody lover's mind, and Darkwing peered into the mirror over his dresser, wondering what possibly could have prompted the sudden expanse between them.

“This is NOT how I wanted to start my day!”

Downstairs a newspaper, coffee, and some waffles on a plate met him. He picked up the note attached to the plate, and smiled.

“Dad, Honker picked me up early for soccer practice, let you sleep in, made breakfast, Negs ate, be back later, love Gos.”

Darkwing pinned the note to the tackboard, and sat down to peer at the newspaper, stuffing his beak with thick gooey gobs of waffles and syrup. The news bored him, and he sighed a bit as he turned the pages.

“Crime down, large stock in bottled water sold, severe power outage in the slum district...”

Darkwing’s brain worked a little as he skimmed the newspaper section. A candy factory had been sold on the west end...Some 2 million dollars worth of stolen diamonds had been turned in anonymously. Darkwing's mind seemed to process this as if in a daze, and then...suddenly, a lightbulb flashed in his mind, and two and two were put together.

“What the...” throwing the newspaper down, he stomped up the stairs, unmindful of the syrup stains now slathered over his bathrobe as he took the steps two at a time.

He reached his hand up to back on the spare bedroom door.

“Negs!” he banged again. “Come on, open this door! I know you’re in there. Negs?”

Darkwing reached for the handle and twisted, pushing inward gently, and the door clicked open softly, swinging out in a silent eerie screech of un-oiled hinges and old wood.

Silence.

“Where did he...” Darkwing's eyes caught onto a piece of paper, sitting on the neatly made bed, and he walked immediately over to it to pick it up.

“Darkwing,

“By the time you read this message I’ll be gone. My parole was ended, it seems, at midnight last night. There is no reason for me to stay. I have some friends who I’ll be staying with, who’ve been rather supportive of me through all that has happened. And I have a job to go to. Its not the old job, don’t worry, I think I’ll be able to enjoy an honest living doing what I love, as I should have, along time ago.

“I have made no presumptions about your feelings to me, you said it many years ago: Once a crook, always a crook. I must have been fun to have hanging around the house, a former con, a fuck buddy, a toy. But I have my own life now, I don’t presume to believe that you feel as deeply in love with me as I do you.

“So it ends here, now, before I get hurt. I should have realized sooner, in the entire time you’ve known me, that I’ve lived with you, you’ve never called me by my real name. Don’t go looking for Negaduck...He’s been dead for a long time.”

Sincerely, eternally yours,

Drake McFeathers.”

A moment of silence seemed to stretch, as Darkwing's brain made a mental snapping sound that could have shattered the dim silence around him if it could have been heard. A soft sound could be heard in the silence, and vaguely he realized that it was his own voice, speaking the word, ‘no’. This sound was followed by the heavy pounding of feet, which he realized were his own, on the door. He slammed past Launchpad and Patty at the doorway, who both looked flustered, out down the path past Gosalyn and Honker on their way back from soccer practice, and out onto the street in his bathrobe.

"Negs! NEGS!"

He whirled in circles looking up and down the street, conciously aware that he was in a baggy 'Weevils' t-shirt and fuzzy pink slippers. He didn't care if he looked like a buffoon, he was rather feeling like one already. He only cared that he had hurt someone, someone who could have been the most important person in his life next to his daughter, Drake McFeathers, and he had hurt him with his big stupid mouth, possibly driving him away forever.

"Come back..."

Darkwing swallowed hard, tears welling up in his eyes. He was vaguely aware of Gosalyn coming to his side and quietly asking him if he was all right, and leading him back to the house. But all he could think about were green eyes. Green eyes and the low wail of the clarinet in his mind.

He's gone...

-seperator-

Bushroot stuck his head out of the bedroom in time to hear Negaduck hollering at the 'pair' to shut up or ship out! Then Bushroot mentally smacked himself.

Drake McFeathers now, that's his name. His real name. Well, you did try insisting that the other guys start calling you Reggie. Damned if we can drag Quakerjack's real name out of him. Megsy must know. I bet he does. Not telling a soul.

Bushroot wandered into the kitchen, where 'Drake' was sitting with his head in his hands. A coffee pot and large mug on the table in front of him. Cigarette with curling smoke in his fingers. The sound of pounding bodies must have been driving him nuts. Bushroot wondered if the Boss now had one of his world famous headaches, and if he needed to get some acetaminophen when he went shop lifting today. Or honest shopping, if Drake was along. He didn't like to steal now. Bushroot could understand why. It was easier conning people honestly out of useless material possessions then innocently stealing things that were vitally important. Like bread. And a heavy mallet to pound the heads in of two very loud and obnoxious roommates.

"How long have they been screwing each other?" asked Drake, rubbing his sore eyes.

"Um..." Bushroot thought about it for awhile, and shrugged. "I'd say a month, two, give or take a week when they were fighting over something. Don't know what it was. The sex that followed caused that big blackout..."

"PLEASE! Don't talk about sex. I swear I'm going to join a convent if I don't get any peace."

Bushroot felt a sudden pity for Drake, who seemed more of a normal well adjusted person now than they were, and he had once been the most homicidally violent of the bunch.

The pounding noises once more came to a halt, and Megavolt, with his cap askew, shuffled out of the bedroom wrapped in a blanket.

"I think I've finally tired him out for a change," said he.

"If you two think you're going to get away with driving me insane, you can just forget it."

"Well if we had a nice crime spree it would give us something to do..."

"I told you idiots already, for the last time, I'm reformed. I make more money honestly than I ever did stealing. You should try it sometime. Bushroot could show you the wad I gave him. He's been paying for your electric bills."

"Don't remind me," Bushroot grumbled, reaching for the coffee pot. "What now then? Are we just going to try being good guys for awhile? So boring."

Quackerjack shuffled out of the bedroom at last, yawning, and looking as if he really had been 'worn out' by Megavolt. Bushroot wondered if perhaps the tuckered out rat had finally lost his patience with the sex crazed maniac and had toasted him with a few hundred volts of electricity. One could never be sure what accounted for a cry of pleasure and a cry of pain.

"Well," Drake suddenly got a fiendish look on his face, one that hearkened back to the days when Negaduck was a glorious villain, waltzing through life in gaudy yellow black and red costume and stomping on all those who opposed him. "First we get Liquidator, then I'll show you guys how we really can have some 'fun'."

Drake cackled, a mad laugh that was almost defiant of all the goodness that the duck had professed to possessing. Megavolt got a steely grin on his face.

"Its fry time!!" he said.

"Its play time!" Quackerjack cackled at the same exact time.

The two of them looked at each other for a brief static filled moment. Until Drake slammed their heads together and they yelped.

"Don't EVEN think about it! Get your gear, we're going on a little cruise down town!"

-seperator-

Drake Mallard surveyed the newspaper in front of him in dismay.

"NEGADUCK IS RUNNING FOR GOVERNOR OF CALISOTA?? Of all the dirty rotten no good...ARGH!"

Gosalyn jumped about an inch, knocking over her bowl of cereal. Honker slumped down in his chair, trembling under the shadow of Darkwing's fury and indignation, which he could feel running up his spine. His rage and temper threatened to blow him from here through the roof, and only Gosalyn taking the newspaper from his hands prevented him from shredding it into little bits. It was entirely unhelpful of her, however, for she handed it to Honker, who then proceeded to read the article out loud.

"'Former convict and businessman Drake 'Jazz' McFeathers announced today his intentions to run for Governor of the state of Calisota, citing conventions in state policy which allowed even for former convicted felons to run for government positions if they have the financial backing of a major financial holding.'

"'That holding in question is Liquidex, the water bottle company whose Quackdax earnings have sky rocketed in the last quarter, and who has been a financial backer for the New Democrats Party for seventeen years. McFeathers is not, however, without some stiff competition, for he faces as his opponent in this race multi-billionaire Scrooge McDuck of Duckburg, who is also the richest duck in Calisota and front running the Progressive Conservative Party. McDuck could potentially gain a seat in the Senate if he is elected into office. Other rivals for the position of Governor are Flint Glomgold, a Republican, also of Duckburg, and Minnie Mouse of Mouseton, a Liberal. If elected, McFeathers would be the first St. Canard citizen to hold the governor's office, a fact which could help give him a strong push in the local polls.'"

"Geeeeeeze," Gosalyn said. "Politics! Its all too much for me."

"Let me see that!" Darkwing said, snatching the paper and scanning it. "'When questioned about his motives, in reference to his criminal background, McFeathers could only laugh. 'Politicians are all crooks. At least I'm being relatively honest about it. Look at my opponents; all of them have had their fingers in the pot at some point in time so to speak. Except perhaps Miss Mouse, and we all know what happened during her husband's reign in office as President. He turned this country into a happy slappy fluffy bunny song and dance festival with no order and little organization. Calisota needs a tough governor, who can be tough with policies and bring about change. I think I can fit the bill quite nicely.'"

Nobody spoke.

"So," Darkwing put the newspaper down, disgusted, heart twisting in his belly. "He couldn't get St. Canard the wrong way, so he's going to try and wedge his foot in politically."

"Well, it's legal," Honker suddenly spoke up, which was rather uncharacteristic. "He's going about things the legal way. And the only other person in St. Canard who could possibly out run him locally is Phineas Sharp, and everybody hates him."

"Who wouldn't? He is an agent of F.O.W.L...damn, you're right Honker," Darkwing rubbed his face with his hands. "Just what I needed. I bet J. Gander will have me down to headquarters any minute now. So much for breakfast."

"Don't worry about it dad," said Gosalyn, coming around the table to hug him. "Let him do what he wants. At least he isn't blowing things up and robbing places."

"No, you're right, he's just doing what's comfortable for him, but damn. I really had thought he had turned around, going to do something good for a change."

"Maybe his idea of being 'good' is different than yours."

Darkwing nodded, having never thought of this. He then smile smiled.

"Maybe he wants to start doing what I did, clean up the city by fighting crime..."

But this thought didn't comfort Darkwing, it merely left a sour note in his belly, and he swallowed the bile that threatened to come up into his throat as he reached to go answer the ringing of a phone.

"Hello? J. Gander? Yes, I'm on my way."

-seperator-

Drake McFeathers leaned back in his chair, grinning from ear to ear. He thumbed his beak with his fingers and picked up a sheet of paper to start scribbling.

"Even if we lose the state running, we can still gain the local riding in St. Canard."

"I like politics," Bushroot said, rubbing his leafy palms together. "Our opponents are just as crooked as we are, but they have to pretend they aren't!"

The two of them chuckled, then both of them winced as Megavolt burst into the office, electrical charges sparking up from his cap. He looked rather odd in a business suit, but somebody had to be the media spokesperson for their party, and if things got a little bad during a live show, he could conveniently make the power go 'out'.

"I swear I am going to strangle him! I swear! Turning the poll sheets into sailor hats! Its outrageous!"

"Now you know why I put Quackerjack in charge of the ad campaign?" Drake said, leaning back and clasping his hands together. "While my opponents are bad mouthing each other and trying to slander one another's reputation, we can run ads that appeal to the every day person. Who doesn't like colorful pictures and catchy jingles?"

The phone rang and Drake lifted the receiver, holding it to his ear.

"You've reached the offices of Drake McFeathers, Drake McFeathers speaking."

Silence.

"Hello?"

"Hello Mister McFeathers," said a voice on the other end, breathy, and thick. "I am phoning to express my concern for your...decision to run for office."

"Who is this?" Drake said, annoyed.

"Let it be known that we, the concerned citizens, think it would be very damaging to your...health...to continue in this riding. It would be...in your best interest to back out now quietly, while you still have the chance."

"Who the hell is this?" Drake demanded. "What do you want?"

"We want you to tow the line. You are playing with the big boys now. As a token of our concern...you can expect a rather...hmmm...interesting gift to be arriving in your office any minute now."

The line went dead.

A bomb? Did he mean a bomb?

"We have to get out of here now!"

All three heads jerked up as the door opened and Quackerjack entered. Drake felt his stomach go cold. So this was the gift that the caller had spoken of.

Quackerjack was a mess. His clothes were ripped and torn, his beak was bloody and bent, probably broken, and he had a black eye. He was bleeding and bruises and cuts were all over his body. His feathers had been torn out violently in several places. Megavolt gave a cry of dismay and rose to go to him, but Bushroot jumped up to stop him in his tracks.

"I...was...told...to...give...you...this..." Quackerjack mumbled, stumbling two feet forward and holding an envelope out to Drake.

Megavolt grabbed him before he could fall over and Drake tore open the letter.

"'Next time, the message will be delivered in several more pieces than this one was...F.O.W.L.'" Drake read, then shook his head and clenched his fists. "Damn. DAMN! DAAAAAMN IT ALL!"

The others jerked their heads to look up at him, and Drake snarled viciously, tearing the letter to shreds.

"They want to fight dirty do they? Well, I'll fight dirty. I can be just as 'foul' and fiendish as them! I'll give them a fight they'll never forget! Nobody messes with Drake McFeathers and gets away with it!"

-seperator-

"YOU WANT ME TO DO WHAT??"

J. Gander Hooter smiled nervously at Darkwing, who was seething with rage.

"Now now, Darkwing, you knew this was a possibility the moment Phineas Sharp announced his riding for the office three weeks ago. You understood the risks."

"Let me get this straight..." Darkwing said. "Drake McFeathers, formerly Negaduck, a convicted felon, is riding for political office, and you want me to be his bodyguard??"

"Precisely," J. Gander said, adjusting his tie. "He's made himself a prime target. Phineas Sharp will do anything he can to win the local riding. And assassinating his opponents is not out of the question for him. You know what F.O.W.L is planning; the take over of St. Canard, and politics is just one of the ways they intend to do this. Anyone standing in their way is in danger, no matter how unimportant they may seem."

"But...but...but..."

"Now now, I thought you'd be more open to the idea," J Gander said with a reproving tone. "After all, you did help bring McFeathers out of criminal practices and into an honest life, as honest as politics can be, and I think it would be exemplary to continue to show your support for his new honest endeavors by guarding him."

"But...we didn't...get along that well afterwards. I doubt he'd be happy to have me around."

"As a matter of fact, I've already arranged all the details," said J. Gander smugly. "We've managed to secure you a position as a field reporter for the Canardian Guardian. You'll be following McFeathers and his riding around St Canard, and Calisota, disguised as a reporter. You'll have a press pass and I'm sure you'll be able to look after him without calling attention to yourself."

"But he'll recognize me!" Darkwing stated, now starting to panic.

"Maybe so, but I'm sure he'll understand why you're there. Especially as this election starts picking up steam and the 'other' parties start showing their disapproval of him."

"Fine! But I'm not sleeping in parked cars again! You are going to pay for my hotels aren't you?"

"Sure, sure, in fact you'll be staying in any hotel, apartment building or suburb where McFeathers is staying. You need to be constantly aware of his location at any given time. A F.O.W.L agent isn't going to call you on the phone to tell you he is going to assassinate someone, he's just going to do it. We'll provide you with the necessary equipment for monitoring his location. One of our agents managed to sneak a homing device into that clarinet of his."

"How'd he manage to do that?" Darkwing blinked, rather shocked that J Gander was going to such lengths.

"She slept with him. I need say no more."

A moment of silence passed, and Darkwing hung his head nodding.

"All right. I'll do it."

--I love the idea that Disney has its own state where all their Disney-esque towns are located. It was really fun doing research for this chapter and its going to get pretty interesting I think. Though if you don't like politics, like I do, you may find yourself tearing out your hair in places. Sorry about that. Figured I could take this story up to a more mature tone now that I've updated it a bit.
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Drakes