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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
- 6
- 7
- 8
Note: SO, finally finished chapter 7. Wooohoo! Bout time, this baby was supposed to be done so long ago. But to make up for my slowness you gets a nice long chapter. My longest to date in fact. Didn’t expect it to be quite so long but there was a lot I wanted to include in this one so I guess it was inevitable. Hmm… not much else to say, my brain is a bit fried from slaving over a hot computer all day to bring you this one, sooo enjoy!

The night air was bitter and unforgiving: a harsh contradiction to the humid day that had preceded it. Pale streams of moonlight slipped through the dense thicket of departed trees, painting a peculiar configuration of scattered rays along the barely visible figure darting through the decaying foliage.
The heavy breathing that accompanied Reggie through the frigid night gave external evidence of his aching chest. His feet were stained with mud and scratched from impacts with the mess of mangled roots twisting along the ground beneath him, yet he couldn’t convince his legs to stop running.
He fell for the third time in the past few minutes. Unlike previous falters, this one left Reggie exhausted and panting on the cold ground, his body completely incapable of holding him up anymore. After a few long moments he finally raised his shaking frame, leaning against a nearby tree for support as he lit one of his cigarettes. “How do I get myself into this shit?” he questioned into the darkness.
Only the wind answered.
The pace of his heart gradually slowed as the minutes passed, the opaque smoke mixing with his visible breath as it diffused through the cold air. Even after the burning cigarette was long gone, Reggie sat quietly in the dim forest trying desperately to regain some of his strength. He was so absorbed in trying to stop the trembles running through his thin frame that he barely even noticed the distant sounds coming from the depths of the forest before him, but the strangeness of the collective noise was enough to put him on guard.
The moon above was shrouded in inky darkness, the clouds surrounding it and obscuring all but the most determined of its shining rays. The faint light barely lent the ability to see through the veiled trees, but the noise sparked an undeniable curiosity in the shivering mallard that made him strain to see through the dark. The soft sounds grew clearer making it obvious that it was getting closer. Whatever it was.
Despite the darkness, Reggie could soon see a faint shadow moving languidly nearer to him. The movement quickly turned Reggie from curious to terrified. He backed frantically away only to have his path blocked by another of the many tall, dead trees. The clouds covering the moon’s light finally gave way to allow the soft rays to illuminate the dead forest. Reggie couldn’t help the gasp that escaped his bill at the sight before him. As unbelievable as it seemed, a small tree had apparently uprooted itself and was now walking slowly closer, green and newly growing branches reaching out for him. The soft trembles continued to course through Reggie’s body, but despite the oddness of the situation, he was not really afraid of the small shrub. There was a certain kindness in its demeanor, a desperate longing for loving contact and yet a show of comfort for his own pain at the same time. The quivering bassist wasn’t sure what made him do it, but he soon found himself reaching out towards the living plant with timid fingers, his back still pressed against the great tree behind him.
As the small, leafy being came closer, Reggie started to notice a massive stirring of life all around him, a surge of gneiss in the long dead landscape that was unlike anything he had ever experienced. He could feel the revival and hear the sounds of their stirring. Blue eyes widened at the fait whispers suddenly sounding in his head. His terror returned, causing him to drop his outstretched hand and back uncouthly away from the foliage in front of him. The desperate words inside his head grew stronger and clearer at his fear. Reggie pressed his hands against the sides of his head in a vain attempt to block out the sounds he could not escape.
The exhausted mallard trembled severely, trying to ignore whatever words were being said to him. “Get out of my head!!” he yelled miserably into the darkness, shaking his petal-adorned skull in a vain attempt to remove the voices. He forced his shaking legs to carry him at a run further into the woods, but no matter how hard he tried the jumbled whispers of a hundred new lives were proving very hard to ignore.
Reggie ran until his feet could no longer carry him, collapsing at the edge of a familiar clearing. His chest quivered with every painful breath, small drops of sweat falling from his brow. When he finally looked up to the structure in front of him, he had to laugh slightly at the place he had decided to collapse. I would end up here.
The decrepit greenhouse almost seemed to murmur his name, adding to the jumble of noise already in his head. Unsteady legs carried him slowly through the broken glass, taking him back into the dark room where his life had changed forever. He slipped slowly into the comforting space, walking slowly to keep from falling over. Among the many shadowy shapes in the long abandoned hothouse, Reggie could just make out the departed vegetation that filled the space. The surrounding dry plants somehow added a level of comfort to the dark room. Near the back of the glass-encased sanctuary, Reggie found a secluded little corner shielded by a circle of foliage. He curled up in the dirt, wrapping his arms around himself and pulling his knees to his chest as he tried to disappear into his coat. It took only a few moments for Reggie to slip into an uneasy sleep. The lapse in consciousness kept him from noticing the flurry of movement around him as he drifted off.
In a distant corner of the same woods, a watery figure slipped fluidly through the trees.
The rate at which Bud swept through the forest kept him from noticing the recent regrowth in the surrounding plants. Or detecting the way they fed off his water. Even with his speed the trip took a while, the vast expanse of trees adding to his journey. He didn’t like how much time he had to think as he traveled. The thoughts were unsettling.
Before long he could see a light through the thinning trees. He slowed as he reached the clearing that housed his destination. He stopped to stare only briefly at the now lit building. Reggie had obviously found his way back to the light box since he had been there. Bud couldn’t help growling slightly as he reached the tall doors. Thanks to this little stunt they were both probably going to be in for a very shitty night. The dripping dog was suddenly extremely annoyed at his increasingly high-maintenance companion.
“God damnit Reggie!” Bud barked as he sloshed his way into the greenhouse, “Didn’t I tell you to… stay in the…” he trailed off as he fully absorbed his surroundings. All around him an explosion of green and color was sprouting up through the brown husks. Bud didn’t even notice his jaw drop at the sight, his previous anger lost in the awe of the moment as he processed the sight before him. It had been a long time since he’d seen anything like it. He scanned the building, eyes finally falling on an out-of-place addition to the foliage.
It took a moment for him to even assure himself that it was Reggie, the lack of the black coat making him far less conspicuous among the growing flora. Bud couldn’t stop himself from taking in the others bare form, his eyes captivated by the delicate and unique curve to his spine as they slipped down the slender form to land on the tail leaves that were now visible. It was the first time he’d really been able to appreciate them. A familiar heat returned to his body.
It wasn’t long before Reggie started slipping his slightly tattered coat back on, obviously aware of the other’s stares. Bud swallowed thickly, flowing closer to the hunched mallard. “Did you… do this?” he questioned, the disbelief evident in his voice as he gestured to the newly revived vegetation.
“Did you see any plants in here last time Bud?” Reggie questioned, sending a halfhearted glare over his shoulder.
“Well, no…”
“Then I think it’s pretty safe to say that they have something to do with me.”
“Yeah, I suppose so.”
Bud could see the other begin to shift uneasily under his gaze. As the silence stretched on, Reggie finally moved from his secluded position. His liquid cohort watched as the fidgety plant-duck moved around the greenhouse, fiddling with the various plants to avoid the drummer’s stare. Bud followed, slipping his fingers along the foliage as he went. Reggie was mesmerized at the way the plants grew at the touch, a collective jumble of happy chatter sounding in his head. It seemed he wasn’t the only plant around that liked the water. He still couldn’t make out one voice over another. It was like being in a crowded room and not being able to filter one conversation from those surrounding it. But despite the slight headache it gave him, the relief and pleasure of his fellow plants filled him with a warm sensation that was difficult to deny and the closest to happiness that he had felt in years. He shuddered fleetingly at the sensation. He suddenly wanted to just stay there forever and hide from Negaduck’s wrath.
Bud could see it written all over his face. He wasn’t sure how long he just let Reggie walk about the greenhouse, running his fingers along the plants, but he couldn’t seem to quite bring himself to make the other leave. Eventually the lights began to flicker, coaxing Reggie’s blue eyes upward. It didn’t take long for them to give one more valiant surge before they died.
The sight of his band mate bathed in the pale light was enough to send a wave of heat through him once again. He wished he could let Reggie stay forever.
“We need to get back,” he said gently, trying not to elicit a rebellion.
“No.”
Bud sighed at the blunt reply. “Look Reggie, this isn’t a choice. If I have to drag you back kicking and screaming I will.” His tone made it obvious that he was not joking.
“You just don’t fucking get it do you?!” Reggie finally snapped at the drummer, his narrowed gaze and bared teeth attesting to the current volatility of his mood. “I can’t…” he trailed off, expression suddenly falling into a deeper form of contemplation. He sighed heavily before continuing, the exhaustion taking over his demeanor once again. “Look, I just can’t go back yet…… please.”
The whispered plea at the end of the statement was hardly audible and yet it broke Bud’s heart. It was starting to become clear that Reggie was terrified of feeling trapped. Trapped with them until… well he was sure the bassist didn’t know what.
He groaned in frustration, knowing that he was going to give in. And that he was going to regret it. He wasn’t sure what Negaduck was going to do when he found out, but the sight of the shivering mallard in the moonlight was too much for him to resist. “Ok. We won’t go back just yet. But if Negs inflicts a world of pain on your ass when we do get back don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Reggie huffed noncommittally in response.
Bud chuckled softly at the pouting expression the other produced. “Well let’s get out of here at least. No way I’m leaving your ass out here.”
Reggie didn’t argue. He just made his way towards one of the many gaps in the glass sides, bending and disappearing quickly through the opening. Bud took a deep breath before following, slipping easily after his floral companion. Outside, Reggie was occupied with satisfying his ever-present vice, shifting through his coat and finally taking out a smoke to light it. Bud cocked an eye at this. He hadn’t realized it but the time they had spent in the greenhouse was probably the longest he had seen the mallard go without a cigarette to calm his shaking. Something told him Reggie hadn’t had any since he’d been in there. The thought made him tip his head quizzically at the smoking mallard. Reggie angled his gaze to meet the curious look being sent his way. For some reason it wasn’t too hard to figure out what question was going through Bud’s head.
He took a long hit from his cigarette, letting out the smoke before answering the unspoken question. “Just seemed rude to smoke in front of them.”
It took a moment for the statement to really sink in, but when it did Bud couldn’t help but laugh. As usual it only served to irritate Reggie.
He chuckled gently at the look his fellow mutant was giving him. “You didn’t want to smoke plant corpses in front of your fellow flora, eh?” he couldn’t help the final round of bubbling chortles that resulted from the mental images. “Yeah, that makes sense I suppose.” As hard as he was trying to keep himself under control, Bud was having a tough time forcing the stupid, amused grin off his face.
The smirk only grew when Reggie snorted slightly, mouth twitching in a brief amused smile. “Yeah, yeah go ahead and laugh. I’m used to it.”
Bud chuckled slightly at this, twisting around the other so that he was standing in front of him. “Well, shall we Reginald?” he said, motioning for the other to follow him back into the forest.
“Sure. Once I convince myself that it’ll be worth walking all the way back just to get my ass kicked,” Reggie muttered irately.
Bud thought this over for a moment before replying. “Get on my back.”
“What?” Reggie questioned with a raised brow.
“Yeah. Shit, it’s not hard for me at all. Just hop on and we’ll be outta here in no time.”
“You’re… kidding right?”
Bud rolled his eyes at the other’s hesitation. “Look this will go way faster without you tripping over your roots.”
Reggie eyed him suspiciously for a moment before finally giving in and moving around to the dripping dog’s back. He hesitated a moment before jumping awkwardly onto the watery form. It was strange to try and hold on and yet he wasn’t slipping. He held his arms stubbornly away from the other’s body, the fluid grip around his legs and lower half allowing him to hold his precious cancer tube safely out of the way. “Fine. But don’t put out my smoke water boy.”
Bud chuckled amusedly. “Heh, smoke if you can, but ya miiight wanna hold on,” he replied.
Before Reggie even had time to question him, the watery mongrel took off at top speed through the forest. Bud couldn’t help snickering softly at the squeak let out by Reggie, his heart skipping a beat when the mutant mallard threw his arms around him, clinging desperately to his watery neck to keep from falling. His cigarette was long forgotten.
As the shock of the speed and the fear of falling wore off, Reggie cringed realizing the position he’d put himself in. His gaze was a mix between embarrassed and irritated when it met Bud’s smugly narrowed eyes.
“DON’T say a word Bud,” he muttered.
Bud didn’t say anything, but he just had to snicker at the look on Reggie’s face.
His grumpy passenger quickly shifted so that his hands were on Bud’s shoulders rather than clinging pathetically to his neck. Although he was disappointed at the change, Bud smiled anyway. It didn’t take long for him to be graced with more close contact. Reggie yelped in fear once again as they swerved near a tree, cringing close to the flowing drummer’s back in case he might hit it. The watery dog beneath him laughed softly to himself again but still didn’t speak.
Once Reggie realized how well Bud weaved his way through the trees and was finally able to calm down, he found he rather enjoyed the experience of swerving around the mangled trunks. The breeze blew back his petals in a refreshing way that Reggie had to appreciate. He soon settled back to watch as the dead landscape passed by.
For once the silence that settled between them was somewhat comfortable.
Reggie’s wandering gaze eventually landed on the stirring surface of Bud’s form. The quick pace was causing a turbulent wave to run throughout the drummer’s entire body. It was an excessive surge and yet it was somehow gentle. Reggie felt a sudden urge to feel it that he couldn’t deny.
Timid fingers stroked gently and fleetingly along the churning surface. The effort to remain unnoticed was in vain. Just the touch of the leafy skin sent a pulse of sensation through Bud that he had previously thought was impossible with his mutated form. It had been so long since he had felt such vast sensation. If he ever had. He felt every inch the other moved, every time he breathed. The obvious stroking soon turned to a light curling of fingers against Bud’s water. He wasn’t sure if Reggie was even aware of it but he didn’t risk ending the contact by saying anything.
Reggie had to admit the journey was much shorter and easier with Bud offering the aid of his watery talents. The night air made him shiver, but it was cleaner out there; it was refreshing to be free of the smog for a while, but he could smell it getting closer. His liquid taxi finally slowed, Bud setting him down on his roots as they reached the edge of the metropolis. The drummer didn’t say a word he just motioned for him to be silent as he inspected the dark streets. There really would be hell to pay if he let Reggie be seen. After a quick search for the nearby fans, Bud once again motioned to him signaling for the leafy bassist to follow.
Reggie didn’t ask where they were going. He just trailed his flowing cohort through the darkened city. Bud knew where he was going far better than he did that was for sure, and he didn’t care where they ended up as long as it wasn’t back at the manor. Although he couldn’t say he was totally pleased when he saw where they did end up.
The Old Haunt was just as Reggie had remembered: hardly visible among the other buildings surrounding it, almost hiding amid the indistinctive line of walls. Despite his slight reluctance to enter the bar again, he had to admit he was relieved that the part of town they had slipped to lacked the many partying fans. Negaduck didn’t like them in his private part of town.
The slightly dingy door groaned as it was opened, a telltale signal to those inside that someone had entered their space. Reggie let out a relieved breath when he saw the lack of patrons. Only the regulars really hug around so late unless there was news the band would be there. Reggie and Bud had not exactly announced that they would be stopping by.
The delight that the surprise visit produced was expressed very clearly by the small crowd. One voice in particular rose above the rest, capturing the attention of the two mutants very quickly.
“Bud old boy!” Benny called, already standing to greet them. “Now we got ourselves a party!” he continued excitedly, throwing an arm around Bud’s sopping neck and pulling him down slightly to match his shorter stature.
Reggie paid them little mind. His attention was drawn almost immediately from the two chatting canines, captivated by something far more interesting to the glum mallard than whatever they were saying. Silken white smoke rose through the beam of light cast upon the table where she sat, painting random patterns as it twirled through the misty sliver of illumination. Reggie’s eyes stayed glued on the slim cigarette in her hands as it was brought to her bill finally leading his eyes to the lovely bird’s face. A gorgeous smile met his gaze as Darla waved briefly to him with her free hand. Reggie couldn’t really explain why, but he was strangely happy to see her.
An uncommonly sincere attempt to smile back overtook him. Despite the fact that he was genuinely trying, the seldom used muscles resisted compliance, producing little more than a twitch and a lopsided half grin that looked more absurd than truly pleased. Darla’s smile grew at the attempt nonetheless.
Reggie’s face fell when he finally noticed the other resident of the small table. The glare Jake was giving him could not quite be labeled as malevolent, but it was unsettling anyway. Of all the people that were there, the strange mallard was probably the last one he would have wanted to see. Not that he was surprised to see him. Reggie shifted his eyes away quickly, the blue orbs landing once again on Bud and his drunken friend who he was currently leading to the table where the others sat. Benny chuckled uncontrollably in his inebriation, throwing an arm around Darla and muttering something in her ear that made her laugh amusedly.
Bud shook his head, chuckling slightly as he turned away from the bar’s three most regular, and well-respected, patrons. Although somewhat surprised, Reggie was relieved when Bud began to guide him away from them. They were too distracted to even really notice the two mutants leave. It was quickly apparent where Bud was leading him.
The rest of the space between the entrance and the bar in the back was notably devoid of customers, but in the distant corner near their destination, there was one group that caught Reggie’s eye immediately. Or rather one person that did.
Sapphire.
Every woman in the small group that she sat with paled in comparison to her beauty. Reggie hardly even noticed them. His heart skipped a beat when gorgeous eyes slipped sensually up to meet his. Bud could hear the timid gulp he produced in response. As they neared the table he knew they would have to stop and say something; Bud suddenly wished Reggie would take his eyes off the beauty. He put on a smile anyway.
“Why hello there Sapphire darling,” he said smoothly, his grin charming as ever when directed at women.
“Hello Buddy dear, always a pleasure,” Sapphire paused to let the drummer sweep her hand up and kiss it. “And so wonderful to see you again Reggie,” she purred, batting her eyes at the quivering mallard. “These are my friends. Say hello girls.”
The four women that accompanied her said their hellos in unison, obviously trying hard as they could to sound as pleasing as possible. Reggie didn’t quite know what to say.
“…Hi,” he finally muttered.
The girls broke out in giggles at the uncomfortable reply.
Reggie’s narrowed gaze could not hide the effect of his deep green blush. He fumed internally when the dark tint in his cheeks elicited a second round of chortling from the annoying females.
“Oh come on now girlies be nice to Reggie. He’s new to all this shit you know,” Bud interjected in an attempt to rescues the nervous mallard.
“Oooo, how new?” a redhead questioned flirtatiously, twirling a lock of hair around her finger.
Bud laughed at the display. “Oh Ginger, you naughty thing you,” he said, waggling a finger at her, “Sorry to say you won’t find out. Reggie’s had a bit of a shitty night and only much alcohol can cure him sooo farewell my lovelies,” he finished throwing an arm around Reggie’s shoulder to guide him away from the estrogen-laden group.
The laughs resumed yet again as the two made their way to the bar. Reggie couldn’t help but look over his shoulder at the captivating bird that had caught his attention in the first place. Somehow it made him feel better to see that she had not joined in the mindless giggles of her friends, but the look she was giving him brought heat to his cheeks in an entirely different way.
He brought his attention to the bar in front of them to keep his thoughts from the deep blue eyes and curvy figure. His thoughts were still very much preoccupied by her as they settled at the bar, but there was something about the familiar space that was somehow comforting. He wasn’t even paying attention to the drummer as he set about procuring what he deemed the proper alcoholic beverages to treat their stress. Apparently no one was interested in having a bar tender around that night. Not that Bud really needed one. He returned quite quickly from his selection process, setting several bottles of different alcohol down before retaking his seat. He opened one easily, taking a long drink before returning his attention to the bassist beside him.
Reggie had grabbed one of the bottles and was now inspecting the clear intoxicant inside. Bud’s eyes slipped to the leafy fingers entwined around the container; it was the first time he noted the un-bandaged digits since they had been out there. They were encrusted with dried blood and trembling in pain ever so slightly. For a moment he considered offering to help them feel better again, but in the back of his mind he knew Reggie would never accept. He settled for staring into tantalizing blue eyes.
Reggie met the gaze with a questioning look. “What?”
“Why did you leave tonight?” Bud asked. Although he was pretty sure he knew why.
He received only a brief shrug in reply.
Bud was silent for a moment before continuing. “Well I hope you enjoyed your little stay in the greenhouse because you won’t be seeing your plant friends again anytime soon I can assure you that.”
“I wasn’t out there for that… and they’re not my friends! That’s just silly.”
“Oh, then why were you out there in the middle of the night trying to make them grow?”
“I didn’t! Well… not intentionally or anything. They just—” he cut himself off. “Wait what the hell does that matter? It has nothing to do with why I was out there anyway.”
“Why were you out there then?”
“Why are you so damn interested in talking about me all the sudden?” Reggie questioned, growing suspicious at the prying.
Bud thought about his reply for a moment, filling one of the glasses he had grabbed as he contemplated. “Well friends usually know something about each other, don’t they?” he finally answered, lifting his gaze from the alcohol in front of him in favor of watching the other’s reaction.
Reggie refused to meet his eyes. “Who says we’re friends?”
“Aren’t we?”
“No.”
Bud snorted slightly at this. “Coulda fooled me.”
“I’m not interested in talking about myself.”
“Welll why don’t we make a game out of it?”
“Game? What kinda game,” Reggie questioned, brow rising at the suggestion.
Bud produced a sly smile in response. “The drinking kind of course.”
“Do I look like the sort who plays drinking games?”
“Come on, don’t be a downer Reg. It’ll be fun!”
Reggie groaned. “How exactly would this game go?”
“Well I suppose we take turns asking questions and if you refuse to answer you take a shot. Simple enough right?”
“Simple for you! You like to drink.”
Bud rolled his eyes. “Well fine then, if you reeeally don’t want to…”
Reggie sighed heavily at the passive aggressive comment. He really didn’t like how easily Bud managed to talk him into things. “Fiiiiiine, you go first then,” he finally answered, pouring some of the liquor into his own shot glass.
Bud grinned elatedly at his small triumph as he watched the vessel fill. “Ok. Why do you hate the idea of me being your friend so much?”
Reggie swallowed thickly at this. He was starting to regret giving in already. “… who says I hate it?”
“Let’s just say it’s obvious.”
“Well you’re so weird about it! How the hell am I supposed to feel?”
“I’m the weird one? Would you prefer the company of your other housemates? Besides, I think you find me fun,” he said crossing his arms smugly over his chest, a stupid grin plastering on his face as a thought hit him. He leaned in close to Reggie, still smirking. “Come on Reggie,” he said, grin growing toothier, “Lemme be your buddy.”
Reggie rolled his eyes at the ridiculous expression. “I try to make it a point to not be buddies with my coworkers.”
“Coworker?” Bud chuckled at the choice of words. “Well it sounds like an excuse to me,” he finished, choosing not to comment on Reggie’s word selection.
The glum bassist swirled the liquor in his glass as he considered his answer. “Friends are nothing but trouble,” he paused to stare at the spinning amber fluid in the small glass, gaze distant. “If you let yourself care about someone you’re just setting yourself up to get hurt… it’s not worth the suffering.”
Bud frowned at this. He hadn’t quite expected that response. “Do you really believe that?”
Reggie didn’t answer, but the look on his face portrayed the depth of hurt that the idea elicited despite his silence.
“Reggie…”
“Look, I answered your question. So it’s my turn now right?”
Bud sighed. “Take it away Reg.”
“What’s Negaduck talk to you about when you’re alone?”
“…You know I can’t answer that.”
“Why?” Reggie questioned simply, eyes narrowed at the drummer.
“Negaduck’s a totally insane homicidal maniac isn’t a good enough reason?”
“So. What do you have to fear?” Reggie retorted, still determined to elicit a proper response from the other.
“Sorry Reg. That’s question two,” Bud replied, taking his shot. “It’s my turn now.”
Reggie fumed slightly at the answer, suddenly feeling the need to get the better of the water-dog. “Fine. Bring it on water boy.”
Bud couldn’t help but grin at the reply.
The next couple rounds passed much as the first. Bud trying his best to figure out things that would get the duck to answer and Reggie asking questions he knew the other wouldn’t answer. It was almost as if he was just informing Bud that he did know. Although Reggie seemed pretty willing to answer most of what he was asked, anything he deemed remotely personal he refused stringently. It was becoming increasingly annoying to Bud.
“Oh come on, that one wasn’t even that bad,” he half whined at Reggie’s most recent refusal.
“Hey, I’m allowed to not answer if I want,” he muttered, shuddering slightly at the burn of the shot he had just taken.
“Yeah, well you could at least trust me a little,” Bud replied dejectedly. The more the game stretched on the more his normally hidden depressive side was making itself known.
Reggie clenched his teeth in annoyance at the increasingly pathetic display the other was putting on. “Well you expect me to tell you all this shit and you’ve refused more questions than me! How the hell am I supposed to trust you?!”
“That’s because you keep asking questions about Negaduck! Ask something else and I would answer.”
“Oh yeah?” Reggie challenged, “So what’s with the collar then, huh?”
The question sent a chill through Bud’s body. “What do you mean?” he questioned, hoping desperately that he had kept the bulk of his nervousness for the subject hidden.
“You’re always pulling at it. If you hate the thing so much why don’t you just take it off?”
“… ask a different question.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Reggie replied with an irate huff.
Bud narrowed his eyes at the comment. So Reggie wanted to play that way. “Well what’s with the coat then, huh?” he asked, extending his watery torso so that he could bring his dripping muzzle close to the aggravated mallard.
Silence met the inquiry.
“Exacty. Ask a different question.”
“Fine,” Reggie replied, finally giving in. He thought a moment before answering again. “What’s your family like? You never really told me much about what your life used to be before this.”
“Oh yeah, that’s a good one,” he chuckled. “In a word: boring. Lame, uninspired, paaaainfully normal… heh, guess they never really did get me. Idolized my older brother though. Pfft, asshole. He’s a freaking dentist that brags about being a doctor! Yeah, I’m real fucking impressed! Buddy is gonna drink himself to death? Oh, well who cares? Brendon learned to scrape teeth with a metal stick!”
Bud crossed his arms over his chest as he finished, seemingly oblivious to the other’s presence for the moment. After a second of internal fuming, Bud finally realized that they were just sitting in silence. He turned a sheepish gaze to Reggie, rubbing at the back of his head. It was suddenly obvious that he had expressed more of his own problems than he had intended.
He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Heh, wow enough of my issues I guess… So what about you?”
Reggie stiffened at that question. “What?”
“What was your family like?” Bud reiterated, “Something must have made you want to leave.”
“They were assholes, what else is there to say?” The attempt to avoid a real answer was obvious.
“Aw, come on Reg,” Bud pouted, “I told you mine.”
Reggie sighed, pausing before he responded as he tried to decide if it was really worth telling him just to keep the moping at bay. “It was just my… father… and me.” The bitter nature of the word father told Bud all he really needed to know
Bud tipped his head at the answer, his own gloomy mood forgotten as he started to realize that he had just struck a very tender nerve. “Real loving and nurturing type, huh?” he questioned gently, the fact that he wasn’t serious very apparent.
“Well sure. If by loving you mean heartless and nurturing you mean abusive, overbearing asshole.” Reggie’s entire body went ridged when he realized exactly what he had just said. He turned his head away from the watery stare he knew Bud was sending his way. “I never was good enough for him.”
“Yeah… I was never good enough for my family either. I suppose we have more in common than you thought.”
“… I guess. So what did you do about it?”
“Same thing you did. I left.”
There was no reply; Reggie was far too lost in his own mind.
Bud attempted to lighten the mood. “Ok, ok,” he said with a chuckle, “I got a good one. What’s with the potato thing?”
Although the memories made the bassist shiver, he couldn’t help the few short chuckles that escaped him at the question. “Shoulda guessed that one would come up eventually,” he muttered, resting his chin on one of his palms. He considered just taking the drink instead of answering but his already hazy vision told him to just suck it up. “Alright, alright. Well let’s see here… I suppose it all started when I decided I was gonna spend some time in the country for a while. FIRST big mistake right there! Totally weird shit tends to happen to me in the country. So anyway, I end up on this potato farm, figure I’ll just work there till I can be on my way again it’ll all be good.” He paused, lighting a cigarette before bringing his attention back to Bud. “Second mistake. Ended up stuck there for almost a whole year. Then insane farmer dad decides that he’s gonna shotgun marry me to his freaky daughter! Turns out she’s some crazy potato sucking vampire bitch with the hots for me… I’m not sure if it’s possible to be raped by a potato but either way I can’t even see the damn things without freaking out anymore.” He paused for a moment obviously lost in his thoughts. “Posey.” He finally muttered, shuddering as the name passed his bill.
Bud was dumbstruck. Of all the possible weird explanations he might have expected for Reggie’s phobia, crazy hick potato vampire girl was not one of them. He couldn’t stop himself from breaking out in laughs. “You’re telling me that you’re afraid of potatoes because,” the laughs resumed, “because …” He couldn’t even finish his thought without laughing.
“Hey! I was traumatized,” Reggie snapped in response, obviously not pleased with the amount of amusement the other got out of it.
“I guess to say.”
“Potatoes for every meal for nearly a year.” He shuddered at the memory. “Mashed, whipped, baked, twice baked, fried… raw! Pickled!! Guhhh it was awful.”
Bud chuckled softly in response, doing his best to keep himself under control. Something told him another round of laughs would just anger Reggie. “Well I suppose it’s your turn.”
Nearby the group of giddy girls in the corner erupted in a round of laughter. Reggie cocked a brow at them, the amused noises sparking an idea in his head.
“Hmm, well there’s a question for ya Buddy. How does a mutant like yourself get such a… reputation?” Reggie asked, “You know, with them,” he finished gesturing to the girls still giggling softly in the corner. “I mean how exactly do you… well,” he rubbed at the back of his head searching for the words, “If you’re made outta water and all…” It seemed Reggie was starting to regret his question.
As much as Bud was enjoying watching Reggie stumble uncomfortably over the concept, he finally decided to put the awkward mallard out of his misery. “Specialize so thoroughly in the erotic needs of the fairer sex?” he offered with a smirk.
Reggie took a drink just to keep from answering but the cocked brow he sent Bud’s way was more than enough of an answer.
Bud chuckled amusedly at the discomfort Reggie displayed for the subject. “Heh, that is a pretty awesome trick actually,” he replied, leaning forward to grab the glass of water that had been sitting in front of them since they arrived. He held the clear vessel in the light tipping it side to side as if to show the other that there was nothing out of the average about it.
As he dipped his finger into the water, a strange swirl of contradictory color and texture invaded the normally clear liquid. Within moments every drop of water in the glass had been hardened into a yellow-stained, malleable rubber.
Reggie was stunned. The look of shock was enough to set Bud off into another round of bubbling laughs. The still flabbergasted mallard reached out his hand in disbelief so that the other could shake the jiggling mass of solidified water into his leafy fingers. Reggie squeezed the squishy cylinder a few times, the hard water jiggling in response. A strange look formed on the bassist’s face at the sight. At first, Bud wasn’t quite sure what the expression was trying to portray, but after a few moments it was quite obvious. Reggie’s shoulders began to shake with the effort of holding back the display, but his lowered inhibitions finally got the better of him as he started to snicker in genuine amusement.
The laugh was in a word: ridiculous. It was an odd marriage between a snort and a snigger, an obvious testament to the lack of use the sound suffered. It was a voice unaccustomed to laughter and it showed. To Bud, it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard, but it wasn’t what truly captivated him. The uninhibited smile that had slipped across Reggie’s face was the most genuine display of emotion Bud had yet seen from him. He couldn’t help the enamored grin that spread across his watery features as he watched the other laugh. He was completely lost in the moment. Smiles were gorgeous on Reggie.
“That is one hell of a laugh Reggie,” he said softly without even thinking. He immediately regretted the comment.
The statement quickly wiped the grin of Reggie’s face, silencing the amusement as quickly as it had started. Reggie looked almost terrified. He put a hand to his bill as though to prevent the appendage from letting forth more of the absurd noise.
The silence stretched into uncomfortable territory as Reggie resisted meeting the fluid gaze. Bud hated himself for ruining the moment, but the abrasive noise that suddenly filled the bar informed him that it would have ended soon anyway.
The entrance was unexpected but hardly inconspicuous. The loud bang produced as the door hit the wall paled in comparison to the boisterous voice that accompanied it.
“Jacky is HERE bitches!” the obnoxious mallard called into the mostly empty bar. Behind him, his ever-present companion was just barely visible. It took only a cursory inspection of the space for his eyes to fall on his slightly drunken band mates. “Well, well, well. Fancy meeting YOU ladies here,” he continued, making his way over to them with Elmo close behind.
“What are you two doing here?” Bud questioned as Elmo plopped himself into one of the empty bar stools.
“Well I could ask you the same thing wet stuff,” Jack replied, leaning against the bar beside Bud. “We were bored so Mo put his moves on the elevator so we could come see what you naughty boys were up to. Way to party without us. You’re gonna make Sparky and I think you don’t love us anymore,” he finished, batting his pathetically enlarged eyes at them.
“We are not partying,” Reggie replied matter-of-factly, “I’m depressive drinking.”
“Well that sounds about my speed right now. I’m super depressed,” Elmo muttered, leaning his chin on the bar top so he could stare eyelevel at his glass as he filled it. A quick tip of the head and the glass was empty once again. Elmo was already refilling it when he finally turned his attention to the mallard beside him. His eyes widened as though he had just noticed that the slightly scuffed mutant was even there. “Woah! Reg… what the hell happened to you?”
“The woods,” Reggie grumbled in reply.
“What about wood?” Elmo questioned, scratching at his bad ear as though it would help him hear the soft reply better.
Jack cackled at his friends genuinely confused, but borderline naughty comment. “Yeeah, if you’re gonna mutter around Mo ya might wanna do it in his good ear Reggie,” he pointed out, flicking at Elmo’s mostly deaf ear playfully.
“What are you gonna do to my ear?!”
Jack’s laughing resumed.
“Nothing,” Reggie answered, making a point to make sure his voice audible enough.
“Hmmm…” Elmo’s gaze drifted as his attention already began to wane, falling slowly down Reggie’s form. He tipped his head at what he saw. “Your coat is torn by the way,” he muttered, pointing a finger at one of the more substantial holes.
Reggie glanced down yelping slightly in horror when he noticed the tears that the rodent had referred to. He pulled the bottom of the garment up to investigate a ripped seam. He was normally not so thoughtless when it came to the care of his beloved coat. The tear made his heart skip a beat. “Gaaaahh! No way, no fucking way! Why meeee,” he moaned pitifully.
“Oh lord, take it down a notch drama queen. I can fix that easy peasy,” Jack said with a flip of his wrist.
Reggie held the garment protectively to his chest as the jester reached out for it.
Jack rolled his eyes theatrically at the action. “Geez Reggie, I’m not gonna hurt it. You’ll get your precious coat back.”
Reggie didn’t look very reassured by the statement, but he relinquished the trench coat nonetheless, panicking slightly when he felt the fabric slip through his fingers. He bit his bottom bill nervously as he entrusted the precious item to the clown, watching anxiously as Jack pulled a selection of thread from the depths of his pockets. After selecting the black, he reached to the end of his hat, lifting one of the spiked balls up so that he could pull a sewing needle from the junction between the fabric and the cool metal at the end. A swift move of his hands and the dark thread was pulled through the needle, Jack already setting about fixing the rips.
Reggie occupied himself by whipping the dirt from his scratched and still sore feet, trying desperately to keep himself distracted so as not to keep flicking his eyes to the coat and the mallard handling it. It was the first time he had really noticed how strange having toes felt. His normally webbed feet had not provided such sensation. Struck with the need to explore the woody appendages, he slipped his fingers between them, wiggling the bark-covered toes slightly against his leaves. He was suddenly irritated that both feet were not symmetrical.
As hard as he tried, Reggie couldn’t keep his attention off his coat for long. He watched the preoccupied mallard with obviously paranoid eyes. He couldn’t have kept the depth of his attachment to the garment hidden if he tried. At least Jack was quick.
“There,” the rhythmist said triumphantly, “Good as new. Although no points for fashion sense,” he added as he handed to coat back to fidgety bassist.
Relief flooded Reggie’s body as it fully sunk in that the cherished item had been returned in one piece. He sighed softly as the fabric touched his leafy fingers once again. Scrutinizing eyes quickly took to searching out the recent repairs for inspection. Reggie couldn’t deny being somewhat surprised at the perfection of the mending. If he hadn’t known that the rips were just there he would never have been able to tell; they might as well have been completely invisible.
“Wow, this is… actually really good,” he said, eyes still examining the black garment. “Thanks, I guess,” he finished awkwardly. “I’m impressed.”
“Heh, Jacky fun fact! I make all my own clothes,” he said, an overly chipper edge to his voice as he shoved his sewing needle back where it had come from. “Those hoity toity rich types just don’t understand my uniquely awesome sense of style,” he replied, fluffing a dangling end of his hat up as though it were hair.
Reggie raised a brow at the action, his attention drifting to the nearby mirror behind the bar. The other duck’s display seemed to make him notice how obnoxiously purple his hair really was.
“Whada ya think would happen if I tried to dye this shit?” he questioned to no one in particular, pulling at one of the purple locks. He shouldn’t have been surprised at who answered.
Within moments, Jack was behind him, staring at him over his shoulder. Reggie shuddered at the suddenly very close proximity as he stared at the jester’s reflection.
“Well given my experience with hair care, it would probably fry and fall out,” Jack said, snickering as he fluffed the soft petals fleetingly. Reggie jumped at the touch. He would have been more relieved when the contact ended if the jester hadn’t decided to lean in close, his mask-clad face just barely far enough from Reggie’s cheek to not be touching the smooth green skin. “But don’t you dare try and change it,” Jack continue, a surprisingly serious tone behind his words and a harsh look on his face. It didn’t take long for his usual perverse smirk to return. “I adooore how colorful you are.”
Reggie shuddered at the playfully sensual tone. He barely even noticed his own sigh of relief when the other pulled away to plop himself in the vacant seat between him and Elmo.
“You know I’m never allowed to wear more than four colors at a time,” he continued huffily, crossing his arms over his chest unhappily. “And three of them have to be shades of black!” Reggie was almost tempted to smirk at the annoyed look on Jack’s face. He’d never considered that the jester was being color deprived.
Before he could even offer any kind of answer, the sound of heels on the floor behind them drew his attention from his flamboyant band mate. He could almost tell it was Sapphire before he even turned around to look. The scent of her perfume floated towards them as she moved closer, bringing the enchanting smell of flowers and sweet spice with her as she approached. The fact that her eyes were fixed on him the entire time was not lost on Reggie. His heart began to pound faster as it became obvious that she intended to join them. The mallard beside him didn’t even have to turn around to know she was coming.
Jack sniffed the air, bill practically curling in repulsion at the aroma that wafted his way. “Ugh… I smell skank,” he said with a notable edge of disgust to his voice.
“I was about to say the same,” Sapphire purred in reply, leaning over his shoulder, knowing all too well that the close proximity would annoy the jester. She was obviously unruffled by the customary trash talk.
“Oooh it’s you Sapphire.” He shuddered dramatically. “No wonder it smells like slut in here.”
“So sorry Jacky, I didn’t realize only one queen hussy was allowed to stink this place up.”
“Ha! You know it bitch,” Jack replied, using one finger to push her away by her curved beak; the digit barely touching her as though she were covered in something repulsive.
“Now ladies play nice,” Bud interjected, knowing all too well that the semi-playful bickering would escalate very quickly if not interrupted.
“Fiiiiiiine,” Jack answered with a roll of his eyes. “Sapphire, for a walking piece of nasty, festering vagina you’re… not the worst.”
“Oh, you have such a way with words Jacky darliiing,” Sapphire hummed playfully in reply. “Oh you are just the sweetest!” she cried, throwing her arms around the jester and forcing his large bill into the depths of her well-endowed chest.
Jack could only produce a muffled cry of terror in response, gasping for air when he finally freed himself from the ample cleavage. “Ahhhh my face!! It’s infected with nasty GIRL COOTIES!” he cried, falling to the floor theatrically. “It buuuuurns!!”
The gorgeous bird rolled her eyes in response.
Elmo snickered nasally at his friend’s display, obviously offering no pity for Jack’s girl repulsion. “I think ya might wanna leave before Jack melts on us girly,” he said still scoffing in amusement.
“Yeah, beat it vagina,” Jack said, returning to his seat as though nothing had happened. “Time for boy bonding time. And take everyone else with you while you’re at it… slutbag.”
Sapphire couldn’t help but laugh. She had always found Jack and his extreme distaste for women as more amusing than insulting. “Well I suppose it’s about time I escorted dear Benjamin’s drunk ass home anyways.”
Before she could say anything else, said dog that just happened to be within earshot of her statement decided to join them. “Eww don’t call be Benjamin babes. It’s humiliating,” he said, slipping an arm around her waist more to keep himself standing than anything else.
Her laughs returned at the unexpected appearance of the drunken canine, the chortles only increasing when Benny swung them around and started pulling her towards the door. “Bye boys,” she called before they were too far away. “See you soon. Reginald,” she said over her shoulder, the hypnotizing look filling her eyes again as she left. Reggie’s blush returned with a vengeance.
“Oooooo, she wants your hard wood BAD Bushy boo,” Jack hooted as soon as the two were gone.
“Says who?” Reggie muttered, taking out a smoke to avoid the clown’s gaze.
“Sapphire has a thing for fellas of your… exotic persuasion. Isn’t that right Buddy boy?”
The shit-eating grin that Bud produced in reply was more than enough of an answer.
“Yeah, well it’s not so hard when you can grow your own personal dildo,” Reggie retorted, his irritated voice barely above a mummer.
“Hey, it’s not all rubber cocks you know,” Bud answered distractedly, setting about pouring drinks for each of them.
Reggie’s eyes widened at this. “They like just… water?” he questioned, unable to deny his curiosity at the statement.
“You’ve never been acquainted with a water jet have you Bushy?” Jack asked, mischievous grin only serving to increase Reggie’s embarrassment.
The slightly blushing mallard chose not to offer a reply. The answer was obvious anyway. “Yeah, well I still don’t see why they would want a mutant so much anyway.”
“Oh please, half the reason they want some of that is because you’re a mutant,” the other mallard replied.
“Yeah, totally. The bitches go crazy for the mutated ones,” Elmo added. “Heh, but then most of them will fuck just about any of our bassists just to say they did,” he finished, snorting obnoxiously.
“Yeeah, just ask Buddy. He’s the expert on bassist fucking. In’t that right Buddy boy?” Jack said, turning his attention to the wet canine that had since slipped behind the bar to mix the various alcoholic concoctions he had selected for each of them.
“Hey now, don’t bring me into this… I’m too busy. Yeah, see, I’m getting the booze,” he said swiftly, slipping away to shift through the selection of alcohol that the bar had to offer. He soon flowed so far down the wall of liquor that he could no longer even hear the others.
“Well somehow I still doubt it,” Reggie answered, choosing to ignore Bud’s comment completely.
“So you’re telling me you don’t believe that they wanna try out your log ride just cause you’re a mutant?” Jack questioned, downing his drink as he waited for an answer.
“Yeah, I’m sure most people are real turned on by splinters,” Reggie replied, “Might as well accept that my cock is useless now… if I still had it,” he finished with a slightly saddened glance to his woody lap.
“Oh like you were really using it anyway.”
“What would you know?”
“Pleeeease you might as well have a big ol’ virgin stamp in the middle of your forehead,” Jack replied mockingly.
“You don’t know shit!”
“So are you a virgin?”
“I don’t see how that’s any of your fucking business,” Reggie retorted, grumbling quietly.
“Well that’s just a fancy way of saying yes,” Jack snorted. “Why don’t we just ask the one who would know best!”
Reggie’s eyes practically bulged out of his head when the insane rhythmist suddenly knelt on the floor in front of him, face pointed between his bark-covered knees.
“Why hello there little Bushy!” Jack said to the wooded nethers, speaking to Reggie’s lower half as though it were a sad kid in need of a friend. “What do you say little guy? Is it way lame being Reggie’s pogo stick?” he cupped a hand over his ear as if listening for a response. “Oh yeah it’s real boring here,” he continued, his voice altered to a high-pitched representation of the other half of his conversation, “And I’ll tell ya Jack, if I don’t get some fucking action soon I’m just gonna pack up my little nuts and leave!”
“Will you quit talking to my crotch!” Reggie yelled, finally delivering a firm kick to the underside of the now cackling mallard’s bill.
Although a bit halfhearted, the kick was enough to knock Jack back on his tail but hardly sufficient to silence his laughs. The addition of Elmo’s soft snickers did not help Reggie’s mood.
“Ugh, can we just wait in silence until Buddy comes back? Is that possible?” he groaned, rubbing at his temples as he slumped deeper into the couch cushions.
The response produced by the others proved that it wasn’t.
Despite his current lack of attentiveness, the knowing glance and soft snickers that the two guitarists were sharing did not go unnoticed. Reggie sighed heavily, knowing he would have to address the annoying noises or they would never stop. “What now?”
“Dude, don’t call him Buddy,” Elmo said through his snickers.
“Yeah only chicks call him Buddy,” Jack added, leaning against his companion as his chuckles got worse.
The information left Reggie dumbfounded, mouth slightly agape and mind reeling. Suddenly several confusing moments made a whole lot more sense. “You’re kidding right? I can’t call him Buddy just cause I’m a guy?”
“Well sure you can,” Elmo snorted in reply, “If you want people to think you’re his bitch.”
“Jack calls him Buddy all the time!” Reggie retorted trying to defend himself without even really knowing why.
“You’re not makin’ a very good case for yourself there hun,” the still very amused rhythmist answered, brow cock and smile crooked.
“Well he never mentioned that to me,” Reggie muttered angrily, leaning back in his chair and crossing his slim arms over his chest.
“Oh yes, I imagine he wouldn’t,” Jack answered with a snicker, his lewd glance to Elmo causing the rodent to join his laughs once again.
As if he could tell he was being talked about, the watery canine chose that moment to reappear. Reggie wasn’t sure if he was relieved to see the other or more mortified than before.
They all grew silent at the quizzical look Bud directed at them.
“What are you guys talking about?” He asked suspiciously.
“Nothing,” Reggie muttered.
Jack nudged at his shoulder with an obnoxious wink and a cockeyed smile. The expression on Reggie’s face clearly displayed his irritation.
“Riiiight,” Bud answered suspiciously, “Well since we’re all gonna get it from Negs now anyway, guess we might as well enjoy the night while we can.”
“Ooo sounds fun sweet buns. What’re we gonna do?” Jack asked excitedly.
“Well we were playing a drinking game,” the drummer replied.
“Hey yeeah! I could seriously use some of that right now,” Elmo said, “I’d like to forget as much of tonight as possible.”
“Oh, oh! Let’s play truth or dare!” Jack suggested eagerly.
“No,” Bud snapped, “The last time we played truth or dare I ended up getting stained pink for weeks. Besides, that’s not a proper drinking game anyway.”
“Fine Mr. Buzzkill.” Jack rubbed his chin, obviously considering his choices very intently. “Oh I know! We can play I’ve never!”
“What the hell is that?” Reggie questioned, undeniably nervous at how excited the suggestion made Jack.
“Geez you really don’t get out much do ya Reggie?” the other mallard retorted.
“You just say something you’ve never done and anyone who has done that has to drink,” Elmo answered. “I suck at that game,” he muttered as an afterthought.
“Yeah well, I wanna play anyway. Let’s play, let’s plaaaaaay!” Jack replied, bouncing in his seat.
“Works for me. I plan on getting drunk either way,” Bud responded with a chuckle.
“And I already forgot what the hell we were doing!” Elmo added amusedly.
Bud lifted a brow at the slouching mallard beside him, sly grin sliding across his face. Reggie looked back with an almost fearful grimace on his face. He groaned in response to the unspoken question knowing that he really didn’t have a choice. If he thought the Old Haunt had been bad before, he knew tonight was going to a mix between traumatizing and unforgettable.

Bud wouldn’t have expected the game to turn quite out as it did. Between Elmo’s poor ability to recall details of his past and the fact that most of the statements had not applied to him, the game had essentially become an all-out war between Jack and Reggie. The currently giggling guitarist was becoming quite amazingly adept at deducing things Reggie would have done based on what he already knew. Jack was more crafty and intuitive than most people would expect, and even in his own increasingly inebriated state, with every secret Reggie revealed through the game lent him more information to build off of. For the bassist’s part his job wasn’t too hard. Even for him it wasn’t too difficult a task to come up with some depraved or overly childish act to make the mallard drink, but as the hours wore on it was quite apparent that the game was starting to take a serious toll on Reggie; it was obvious that things would not go on much longer.
“Iiiii’ve never… hm. You know, m’ starting to have a tough time thinking of things I ain’t never done yet.” Jack said with a slur, laughing drunkenly as he slouched back against the sofa they had since relocated to, drink threating to spill as he flopped against the soft cushions.
“Thas it! M’ done,” Reggie finally said, half slurring and half yelling the statement as he raised himself from the plush furniture. “I hate this game, an I hate all a you all. M’ going! …. Goin’… somewhere…” he trailed off putting a hand to his whirling head.
“Pfft, party pooper,” Jack mumbled in reply.
A quick end was put to Reggie’s journey to nowhere when the world began to spin. He groaned gripping the edge of a nearby table for support as a wave of nausea hit him. “Shit I’m dizzy,” he muttered, putting a hand to his suffering head and leaning against a nearby table for support.
Bud’s shook his head in slight amusement at the intoxication of his fellow mutant. He was about to get up and assist the lightweight mallard when a harsh bang shattered the silence that had followed Reggie’s soft statement. The leafy duck focused his foggy gaze on the source of the noise, trying desperately to make out who was there. Reggie swallowed harshly in fear of the threatening shadow in the doorway; he had a bad feeling he knew what it meant.
In the dim entryway was the hunched form of Negaduck; his glowing red eyes giving away his identity without the others even having to fully see him. His fists were clenched and obviously shaking with rage as he scanned the bar for his quarry.
There was suddenly an added sickness assaulting Reggie’s stomach.
“Wellll kids, party’s over,” Jack muttered, sitting up only to fall against his slim companion’s shoulder a moment later as his own inebriation got the better of his balance.
The entire group could hear the deep snarls the singer was giving off as finally started making his way towards them; the sound of his boots against the wooded floors lent the approach a sinister quality that made Reggie give out a barely audible but still plainly pitiful moan. He swallowed around the ill sensation in his throat, unsteady feet trying to carry him backwards as the other duck advanced upon them. Reggie suddenly felt very vulnerable not sitting with the others.
“What exactly do you knobs think you’re doing here?” the fuming singer sneered.
“Drinkin’! Duuuh,” Jack replied. The retort did not sit well with Negaduck. A sharp growl made Jack stiffen nervously despite his drunkenness. “It was his idea to fry the elevator!” he answered in response, pointing an accusing finger at Elmo.
“Like hell!” the rodent retorted angrily. “Who said let’s go find out what Reggie and Bud are up to?!” he continued, pressing his nose roughly to the end of Jack’s bill. “It’ll be fuuuun you said. We need a night out you said.”
“Shut up!” Negaduck interrupted before the spat could continue. He wasn’t interested in what the two guitarists had to say. Enraged eyes turned their fury on the still cringing mallard near him. He could hear Reggie swallow nervously as he approached. “Do you really think that I don’t know who started this Reginald?” he growled. He didn’t even give the other a chance to defend himself.
Harsh digits clasped around Reggie’s neck, practically throwing him to his knees as he turned his fiery eyes on the others. “You all think this is some kinda fucking GAME?! Is that it?!” he stared them all down as the panicked mallard in his grip continued to claw futilely at the digits encircling his neck; his leafy fingers painfully ill-suited to the task.
None of them replied, but the singer could see a certain canine’s entire body shaking with the effort of keeping his composure. The evident anger that Bud was directing his way only made Negaduck increase the pressure of his hold. Reggie gasped frantically at the added force; for a painfully long moment, he was sure the other duck would kill him right then and there.
With a final snarl the malicious mallard finally threw the other to the ground, turning his attention fully to the others as Reggie gulped for air.
“All of you had better get your asses out of here NOW!”
No one argued. They each slipped passed Negaduck without a word; Elmo holding his unsteady companion up and Bud flowing angrily behind them. He couldn’t help but look over his shoulder at the still wheezing bassist as they went. Reggie was shuddering pitifully, clutching at his still suffering stomach as the other hand shielded his neck protectively. Fluid eyes flicked fleetingly to Negaduck as the trudged towards the door, unsure if it would just invoke more of the evil duck’s rage if he helped the currently debilitated bassist. It was obvious that the singer didn’t really care at that point either way.
Bud acted quickly, grabbing Reggie by his slender arms and yanking him to his feet. The shivering mallard didn’t resist as he was pulled swiftly towards the door. Once standing, he was able to walk well enough on his own to pull away from the dripping drummer, falling behind him in an attempt to remain discrete as they followed close behind Negaduck. He did everything he could to keep the sick feeling in his stomach at bay as they walked, rubbing his sore neck to try and distract himself. The sight that met him as the doors gave way to the menacing metropolis outside was more than enough to take his mind off the discomfort.
Reggie was so distracted that he didn’t immediately notice that something had stopped the others dead in their tracks, the abrupt halt causing him to run into the watery form in front of him. He shook the water from his face, rubbing his head as he peered around Bud to see what had caused the delay. All that his hazy, drunken gaze could really make out through the dark was the unclear outline of a bike and a single eye: a steely half-gaze that tore through the shadows to focus on intently upon them.
The little bit of light that fell upon the curves and crevices of the heavily customized supersport motorcycle did not do the high-speed piece of machinery justice. Reggie didn’t know why, but there was a certain air of familiarity about the shadowy figure sitting upon it; a certain similarity to the form that made him shiver in dread. He couldn’t help but notice that the eerie eye was staring right at him, studying him. Reggie was undeniably unsettled by the scrutiny.
“Who da hell is tha?” he asked softly, still unable to keep the slight slur from his voice.
“Oh, that’s just Drakey,” Jack muttered, throwing his companion’s balance off and forcing the rodent to throw both arms around him as leaned closer to Reggie, “He’s a real downer,” he added in an obnoxious whisper, the volume of his statement falling extremely short of inconspicuous.
The harsh glare Negaduck sent them silenced the brief conversation quickly.
A toothy grin slipped across his face as he returned his attention to the shrouded mallard before them. “Why hello there sugar tits,” he said, an almost ecstatic edge to his guttural voice. “Been awhile. I was starting to think you didn’t wanna play with me anymore,” he finished, advancing further on the other.
The slow approach immediately elicited a response. It was not what Negaduck had been hoping for. With a squeal of rubber against hard cement the other duck whipped the back of his bike around and peeled away into the night.
Negaduck didn’t waste a second. “In the car NOW jerkwads!” he yelled at them, “Looks like the ducky might be up for a little game after all.”
Reggie couldn’t help the groans that sounded at the thought of getting back into Elmo’s beloved vehicle. Bud literally had to push him towards the metal menace. For once he got in first, pulling the unhappy mallard in behind him. Reggie barely had time to close the door before the pursuit was on.
It didn’t take long for them to catch up to the speeding bike ahead of them, but as the chase ventured further into the twisted roads littering the heart of St. Canard, things got a lot more complicated.
The hyper-powered car could more than match the other in speed but his maneuverability was only a fraction of the specialized bike. The insane rodent compensated as best he could in the best way he knew: general destructive and reckless driving. It was not the sort of trip Reggie was currently capable of dealing with very well. He hung over the side of the car clinging desperately to the door as the swerves and off-road driving added an excessive amount of torment to his already miserable stomach. Tortured groans sounded at every harsh turn making Reggie’s pain quite audible to the others.
“Puke on my car, and I will HURT you Reggie!” Elmo warned from the front seat.
“Well you’re not helping!” It was all Reggie allowed himself time to say before clamping his hand back over his bill, the other soon joining it. The suffering bassist groaned pitifully, the sound muffled by his feathered fingers.
“Bitch about it on your own time volt breath!” Negaduck snapped at the distracted guitarist. “Just CATCH HIM!”
“What the hell do you want me to do?! I can’t take these corners like him in this beast!”
Negaduck growled at the truth behind the statement. “Drip face! Follow him NOW!” he yelled.
Bud didn’t have to be told twice. With a swift move he had slipped past the mallard to his right and over the side of the speeding limo. Reggie watched him rush past the car and around the sharp bend that their target had disappeared behind.
Elmo was forced to take an alternative route; the hefty car unable to take the same turn as the others. Several swerves and terrifying maneuvers later, the hunt ended as abruptly as it had started. As they screeched around the next corner, they found Bud once again. Alone.
The tires screamed as Elmo forced his car to break dead in her tracks, the front fender stopping just short of the watery figure in front of them.
“What the fuck happened this time?!” Negaduck shouted at the drummer, leaping onto his seat so that he could see the water-dog without having to look through the windshield at him.
“Well that was a waste of time… again,” Jack pouted, hanging over his side of the car. “Why’s he out here if he doesn’t wanna play with us?”
“That’s not what he was here for.” Negaduck answered simply, looking over his shoulder at Reggie. “He just wanted to check out our new bassist.” His attention returned to the living puddle still standing in front of the car, the look on his face plainly displaying his displeasure. “Tell me something Bud. How the HELL do you always manage to lose him?!”
“I don’t fucking know he just manages to disappear!” Bud replied defensively.
Negaduck’s brow twitched in annoyance at the answer, gaze narrowing dauntingly at him. It was not what he wanted to hear. “Just get back in the damn car,” he snapped, dropping himself back into his seat.
Bud complied quickly, falling to the ground and gliding his way over the back of the limo so as not to disturb Reggie. He was not about to ask the suffering mutant to give up his place by the door. The ride back was far smoother, much to Reggie’s relief. He had a feeling Elmo’s driving lacked much of its usual flare simply because he feared what the sick mallard in the back might do to his baby. Either way he was thankful.
Finally back in the manor, the four band members sat in silence as their leader stared them down. It was as though he was waiting for an explanation that would never come.
Negaduck growled at them for the tenth time in the past few minutes, finally calming his furious thoughts enough to form a coherent sentence. “You know, I SHOULD maim all your sorry asses for what you’ve put me through today,” he hissed, making his way down the line musicians. “These two are totally fucking trashed,” he continued, gesturing to Reggie and the barely concisions rhythmist beside him, “That one is bitchin’ about his drug problems and you,” he snarled stopping on Bud, “Don’t even get me started on you.”
Bud turned his head away, unable to even think of a response.
“BUT,” Negaduck continued, “Since I just happen to need you all in decent shape until this album is FINISHED, you just got real fucking lucky. But if any of you EVER try a stunt like this again I will end you.”
The soft gagging sound that Reggie produced as his stomach lurched was the only response any of them offered. Trembling, blood-stained fingers gripped hastily at his bill in a desperate attempt to keep his rebellious gut under control.
Annoyed, half-lidded eyes scowled at him, Negaduck’s brow twitching in aggravation. “Get out of here before you do something to make me loath you more.”
Reggie didn’t have to be told twice. He didn’t quite run from the room but he certainly didn’t take his time. Negaduck’s red stare never left him as he rushed out, the burning gaze following him to assure the singer that the other mallard was gone before he continued.
“Now the rest of you,” he growled, “You assholes listen to me and you listen good. It seems to me that everyone is getting just a bit too CHUMMY with this bassist.” He paused to stare them all down. None of them met this gaze. “Now I don’t know if you’ve all just FORGOTTEN how things work around here but mark my words, I am not going to remind you again! I don’t want the bassist knowing any more than he already does. GOT THAT?! Just keep him busy, and keep him away from the lower levels. If this one has to end prematurely I swear I will make you all suffer more than you can possibly imagine.”
The look on their faces was enough to assure him they had gotten the message.
“Just keep your mouths shut!” the disgruntled singer continued, turning his back to them in favor of observing his realm from the tall window nearby. “He knows too much already.” Negaduck narrowed his eyes at the dark landscape. “Way too much.”

Dun dun duuuuun!
Well there ya have it dears, more metal nonsense now complete with everyone’s favorite midnight mallard! Wooo, now we got ourselves a story! Seriously though, things will get more intense after this chapter so the squeamish be warned.
Stay tuned for more tales from the brain of Ariaa!
- 6
- 7
- 8
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Screw the Bassist