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Predator and Prey	By : RoamingTigress Category: +1 through F > Darkwing Duck Views: 3530 -:- 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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Predator and Prey
By Roaming Tigress

Where there is prey, there are the predators.

Tonight, such a predator was on the prowl; not in the savannahs in Africa or the forests of India, but rather in the sprawling, bustling metropolis of St. Canard. A lean predator, with his mind fixated on cruelty – Negaduck, The Prince of Darkness, called the night his. There is not a crime this predator would not commit, no deed too immoral or violent for his liking.

Negaduck didn’t earn the title of Public Enemy Number One just for dominating his minions or shooting some poor soul in the head and leaving him or her to die a slow, painful death in some dank alleyway, although he has done plenty of both. He earned the reputation over time, and he earned it well. Not being particularly choosy with who he decides should live or die, nobody is safe him – not the elderly in the nursing homes or the heavily armed SHUSH agents who he holds grudges against. Everybody is a possible prey item on his twisted, demented agenda, and if they know what’s best for them, the other members of the rouge gallery stay away and hold a fearful respect for him.

That is, every villain except the Chief Agent for the Fiendish Organization, Steelbeak. For some time The Prince of Darkness has watched this cock of the walk throw his weight around town, constantly strutting about like some narcissist peacock and making the news every week. He was dangerously teetering on the edge of stealing Negaduck’s position – and knew it. Something had to be done if he wanted to remain top bird in town.

“It’s PLAAAAAAAAAYTIME!” Quackerjack shouted enthusiastically, leaping down from the catwalk in the Fearsome Five hideout and nearly falling down on his boss’ head just as he slunk in.

With lightening quick reflexes, Negaduck violently seized the big-billed duck by the neck and snarled. “It’ll be ‘kill Quackerjack time’ if you ever pull that stupid stunt on me again!” He was unusually moody today, even for his standards.

“Awwwww! What’s wrong, Negaduck?” The jester-suited duck asked in a particularly annoyingly whiny tone, pulling down on the bells of his hat. “Surely you’re not still mad at Megavolt for stepping on that light bulb on your way in from yesterday!”

Negaduck let out a growl of frustration, slamming the latest issue of St. Canard Tribune down on a table. “No – it’s HIM!” He snapped, pointing at a photo of the smug, seemingly permanently smiling agent of the Fiendish Organization for World Larceny.
“That damn rooster has been stealing my thunder for too long, I’m going to put a stop to it if it’s the last thing I’m going to do.” Cruel mental images stalked into his sordid mind, and slowly a disturbingly pleasant smile crept upon his large bill.

“Mr. Negaduck? Can we tag along, too?” Mr. Bananabrain ‘asked’ as he was pressed into the mallard’s face. It had been some time since Quackerjack was involved in anything big, and he was eager to do something a little out of the ordinary.

With a growl, grabbed the doll and threw it aside. “NO! I’ve already have had it with other villains taking my fun away.” Breathing heavily, he pinned Quackerjack up against the wall.

“This is something I must go about on my own.”

There was a murderous gleam in Negaduck’s blue eyes. In all the fourteen or so years he’s worked with him, he had never seen him this intense before; not while dealing with this goody-goody double or while in the midst of a murdering mayhem. With a gulp, Quackerjack hid his doll behind his back and stepped aside when his power-crazed boss let him go.

Negaduck felt his kooky minion’s nervous, beady little eyes watching him as he made his way into the cockroach infested kitchen, and practically salivated as he tasted his fear and uncertainty. Once he picked up that sense, there was no ignoring it.

Fear -- there is no better taste in the world. I thrive for it, I live for it -- and I hunt for it. If I cannot find fear, I will make it.

At waist-height was a padlocked cabinet, in which Negaduck unlocked with a single shot from his handgun. Behind that cabinet was his extensive knife collective; every imaginable type was behind that paint-peeled door. He had even got a hold of harmless butter knives and sharpened them with an axe grinder. His reason for having so many? One for every week, he once told an unfortunate victim whose blood was still stained on a rusting paring knife.

“Well, what do we have here . . . ?” He sneered, pulling out a four-bladed, brutal looking dagger from the back of the cabinet.

The dagger was every bit as dangerous as it looked; the blades were specifically designed to viciously split the flesh from its victims. Negaduck had stolen it from the St. Canard Armory some years ago, and until now he had completely forgotten about it.

“Steelbeak, meet Mr. Fourside . . .”

With all the near-silent stealth of a leopard, The Prince of Darkness made his way out into the night. He practically cringed as he closed the back door of the warehouse, nor wanting a single noise betray his presence. This was his reason for not wanting the others to tag along with him on this excursion, and also didn’t want other villains stealing his thunder.

The time on Negaduck’s Rolex read five minutes to midnight, the time when the cocky criminal usually made his way home after a day’s villainy -- that is, if High Command didn’t keep him behind. Since the rooster was on the verge of claiming the position of Public Enemy Number One, those late nights have been few and far between nowadays. Whenever they did keep him behind, they weren’t handing out reprimands. Instead, they kept him late over discussions with weapon development and ways to better the organization’s sinister image. Inadvertently, High Command was making him too good of a villain for his own good.

Negaduck wouldn’t have to look far for Steelbeak, for the headquarters for the Fiendish Organization for World Larceny was situated in his territory -- the bad part of town. It was just a mere hop, skip, and a jump away from popular villain hangout, The Old Haunt Tavern. It was an unlikely place you would expect to find someone who wore his Armani with pride, but being the villain that he is, Steelbeak had shady business to deal with.

It was a Wednesday that The Prince of Darkness decided to snuff Steelbeak out. From experience he knew the rooster went there religiously every Wednesday for a drink and to socialize, and also knew that he often had one beer too many. In all the times he had seen him drunk, the rooster was far from his sober, stylish self. Embarrassingly dull-witted and clumsy, he wouldn’t know a knife would be coming at him until it was too late. Even then he’d likely be passed out before blood loss got him.

Tempting as it was to do the deed while the big chicken was intoxicated, it would be too easy; Negaduck liked a challenge just as much as any villain of his caliber, and decided to go after him when there wasn’t a drop of alcohol in his veins. It was a dangerous challenge; Negaduck still had the scars of a brutal fight from over ten years ago to prove that Steelbeak was no easy pushover. These risks didn’t the least discourage him, for he lived for danger.

Negaduck spent an entire hour in that dank, smelly alleyway until finally he caught sight of his prey sauntering his way down towards the weekly watering hole. Normally his patience was nil, but it proved to be virtue tonight. Keeping a firm grip on his dagger, Negaduck stepped back a little ways and crouched low next to a garbage can. Every muscle on his sinewy body was taut, and his cold heart was racing so fast from the adrenaline that he thought it would give out on him.

Little did Steelbeak know who or what was lying in wait for him, until suddenly a force of a hundred pounds slammed into him from his left side. The impact was so powerful that it felt as if he had just been struck by a car, and Negaduck was so quick in his attack that the rooster didn’t see him until he was knocked onto the ground.

“Surprised, are we?” Negaduck sneered, holding him to the ground by the scruff of the neck as so he wouldn’t be bitten. He couldn’t help but to notice the rooster’s shocked expression.

“Really, you shouldn’t be.”

Seeing the dagger come to his throat, Steelbeak clamped down hard on it with his jaws of iron. His hold on it wasn’t as strong as it should’ve been, for the other villain was able to wrench it free. The sharp blades sliced open his tongue, causing more anger than pain to the big bird.

Negaduck, being faster and more agile, was able to duck the punch that was thrown at him. With a hard kick to his gut, Steelbeak staggered back, almost loosing his footing again. Having thin legs supporting a heavy body has its disadvantages other than making one look out of proportionate. One of these was having poor balance in fighting; one kick to the right spot could have him facing the ground.

Negaduck didn’t go after him again immediately; he commando rolled, retrieved his weapon and waited for his opponent’s next move. He saw the river of crimson dribbling down the side of the rooster’s metal beak and smirked. He’ll weaken fast with that flow of blood coming out of him. He was wrong, though. For an avian of his size, it would take more than slit tongue to cause significant blood loss.

“Eva’ wondered what it’s like ta swim wit’ de fishes, oh mighty Public Enemy Numba’ One?” Steelbeak asked in a half threatening, half mocking tone as he slipped a hand inside his jacket. He pulled out a handgun, but just as he pulled the trigger, it jammed up on him.

There was no telling what other weapons the agent had concealed in his jacket. If the predator didn’t want the tables to turn on him, it was time to react now, not later.

“No, but I have a feeling you will!”

With dagger held out in front of him, Negaduck lunged out at his volatile victim with intend on sinking the blade into the heart. Unfortunately for the mallard, he got nothing but a knockout punch right between the eyes that sent him flying backwards. After colliding with a garbage can, he laid deathly still on the ground. There wasn’t even a hint of a breath or the slightest rise of his chest that would suggest that that he had survived the hard hit.

Steelbeak couldn’t help but to kick his fallen enemy. “Woids sure ‘ave a way of comin’ back to ya, don’t dey, Negaduck? It’s a real shame youse ‘ad to learn dat de ‘ard way. Oh well, no skin off of my back . . .” He was so smug, so sure of himself.

Slowly regaining consciousness, Negaduck saw the blurred vision of his rival leave and heard that staccato laugh. No doubt the rooster thought he was dead – but he was in for a big shock. Before Steelbeak got the chance to turn the corner of the building, the mallard had got him again. He had jumped onto his shoulders, and despite his dizziness, he tried to get the dagger into the flailing big cockerel.

At this point, Steelbeak was beyond freaked out. He fought back well, but it seemed that his enemy was invincible. Perhaps his punch wasn’t powerful enough; he had killed other villains with his fists alone, all far larger, stronger and heavier than Negaduck. He didn’t have time to think this over, thought; the only thing that mattered was his survival – and to win the fight. Loss of power to a villain meant humiliation – death in itself.

Using all the strength that he had, Negaduck was able to force the rooster to fall flying onto his back. Being forced into a vulnerable position made Steelbeak all the more violent in his self defense, but not for long. Almost as quickly as he hit the ground, the dagger came down at him. It tore through his jacket and red silk shirt, where it finally wedged in halfway from behind the top of the right collarbone. It wasn’t the jugular vein the deranged duck was hoping to cut open, and it frustrated him that the blade didn’t go in deeper, but it was still more blood drawn and more flesh torn.

“Say what again?” Negaduck sneered, staring down at Steelbeak as he held him down with a foot to the chest as he tried to get away.

“Words sure have a way of coming back to you.”

Throughout this ordeal, Steelbeak felt very little pain. He felt only sheer terror -- the wet spot on the crotch of his trousers testified this. There was no point in him yelling for help; there was none to be found in this part of town. Besides, even if it were for his own good, it was something he just couldn’t put himself to do. Steelbeak was also above admitting defeat; he would rather die than to say “I surrender” to his foes as he lay bleeding on the pavement. He stared blankly at the sky, hoping that whoever was up there could take his life away before he was subjected to cruel and unusual punishment.

Negaduck roughly removed the dagger from his victim’s collar bone. He wasn’t finished with him yet, though. With a low growl, he leaned his face into Steelbeak’s so close that his bill would’ve been bitten off.

“On your knees, bitch.”

The loss of blood was taking its effect on Steelbeak. The rooster thought he was hearing thing, and looked even more frightened than he already was. I really ‘ope I didn’t ‘ear what I t’ought I hoid. One moment, ‘e wants me dead, de next ‘e . . . Wants to ‘ave sex wit’ me? I always knew ‘e was twisted, but not dis twisted!

Normally Steelbeak was open to having intercourse with literally anyone at any time of day, but not with a psychopath who would probably kill him when he was finished with him. He had t get away, and now. It didn’t matter where he went, just as long as Negaduck couldn’t follow him. Such a place doesn’t exist, unfortunately.

“Repeat dat again, please? I’m really outta it . . .” Half heartedly he tried to push away his attacker, but he was so weak he couldn’t do it.

Negaduck held him down before he could go anywhere. “Get on your knees while you still have them.”

As this sank in, Steelbeak could only reply in monotone. “Oh, youse ‘ave got to be kiddin’ me. Isn’t dere some loose goil in de Old Tavern youse kin take ‘ome and fuck all night?” He was getting a touch too cocky for The Prince of Darkness’ liking; the only bird in town that was allowed to have that much attitude was Negaduck.

Negaduck grabbed the rooster’s wattles and placed the dagger between the spot were the leathery red flesh connected up between the jaws. He didn’t need to go any further, for it was enough to send the message home. With humiliation, Steelbeak caved into his demand before anymore skin was broken.

“You like to think you’re such a big hot shot, but when we get right to it, you’re nothing but a big chicken!” Negaduck’s height -- or lack thereof -- didn’t stop him from looking down at others.

Domination was a big turn on for Negaduck, as was violence and picking up on the fear of his victims – all which were present on that cold, starless night. Normally his victims where killed outright if he didn’t let them die a slow, painful death, but the F.O.W.L agent was different. The decision to not kill his rival was not made lightly, but Negaduck wanted to do something to Steelbeak that would humiliate him so much that he’d be afraid of stepping out the door for the rest of his life. Besides, he didn’t expect the rooster to survive after all he’s already put him through – and was planning on putting him through.

Just as Negaduck seized the collar of the white jacket, Steelbeak slipped out of it as he made a third attempt for freedom. He only got a few feet until he stumbled back onto his knees, weakened and weary. Negaduck didn’t even bother going after him, for he knew he wouldn’t get too far in the shape he was in.

“Leave me alone, or I’ll kill youse . . .” Steelbeak warned, collapsing on his side. Although his voice sounded dead serious, it was only a veil to hide his real feelings. Not since childhood has Steelbeak ever felt so scared or ashamed. After shuddering a few times, he started to silently cry – and it did not go unnoticed to his predator.

“Awww, did the big bad bully scare you? Allow me to make you feel better . . .” Negaduck mocked, risking getting bitten as he pinched his cheek like a nasty old aunt. He was indeed snapped at, but he was able to grab and hold the beak shut it before any bite was made.

“You try that again on me, and I’ll remove your namesake faster than you can say KFC!” When the threat was sent right home to Steelbeak, Negaduck released his grip on those iron jaws and he threw the dagger down at him once again – this time, without intent on killing him, but the other villain didn’t know that.

The rooster’s eyes widened with panic as he heard the hissing, serpentine sound of the blade cutting down the front of his red silk shirt. There as a burning pain from the weapon inevitably and lightly splitting into the skin, but even that didn’t bother him much as that noise which truly made him feel like a prey animal.

Now I know what it’s like fer a deer to be brought down by a pack of wolves. I gotta get away . . .

Negaduck seemed to have read Steelbeak’s mind, and forced his right arm down to the ground once he was able to force him back into a submissive position again. “You can try to escape me, Roosterboy, but no matter where you go, I’ll find you.”

Steelbeak shivered as he felt Negaduck’s cold hands reach up from under the shirt to fondle the tense muscles underneath his silky feathers. Having earned a reputation for being a slut, Steelbeak normally loved attention of this sort -- but not when he expected the mallard to plunge the dagger into him again at any moment. Physically he was too weak to make a true escape, but mentally, he was running away, far, far away.

At first, Steelbeak mouthed the words before he forced himself to say them. His voice, like his breathing, was slow and shaky.

“I surrender . . .”

Negaduck smirked, tearing away the rest of the bloodstained shirt and throwing it over his shoulder. Hearing the surrender coming from a villain with Steelbeak’s power was like music to him, just as it was hearing a hapless woman scream after jumping out at her from a dark alleyway with his chainsaw.

“That’s a very wise decision on your part, but I’m still going to send you into Hell.”

For he didn’t want to see what might come to him next, Steelbeak looked away as Negaduck kneeled down in between his legs and placing his arms in between his waist. Taking in a sharp breath, he pulled his belly in when he felt the duck’s tongue slowly lap up blood that had collected in his navel. This was a ticklish, wildly arousing sensation, but he didn’t let the other know he was enjoying this, and stifled his laughter – and purring of relative contentment. Steelbeak was still very frightened, but this helpful distraction had made it go down a notch.

“You’re not complaining . . . “ Negaduck coolly remarked, noticing the rooster’s cooperation and slight bulge forming in the crotch of his pants. The blood had a sweet taste, not like the metallic bitterness he was familiar with, and he savored every drop of it.

Out of reflex, Steelbeak gave the dreaded Prince of Darkness a well-aimed kick to the head. It was a decent kick, enough to cause him to flip him backwards and to give him a headache for a good few hours.

With a roar of fury, Negaduck leapt onto the rooster’s chest, keeping his head down with one foot underneath his jaws.

“You . . . Are so dead!” He growled, reaching around to grab him by the scruff of the neck.

Steelbeak grimaced apologetically, and as a nervous habit, he reached a hand to his neck to nervously tug at his bow. He forgot it wasn’t there, and gulped.

“Uh-uh . . .”

With a grunt, Negaduck flipped the rooster back onto his stomach. “Uh-oh is right!” He threatened, trying with all his might to pull him the big rooster onto his knees.

Steelbeak shrunk back and cowered, only to be kicked in his already sore ribs. The pain from the collarbone stab was aggravated, and he grabbed a hand over the wound as an attempt to dull the pain and bleeding somewhat.

“Look, er . . . Can’t we’s do dis like, in a warehouse or somet’ing?” He asked, tugging at his cape with his other hand.

“I feel kinda vulnerable out ‘ere and . . . Wouldn’t people spread ruma’s about youse bein’ gay if people caught ya wit’ me in de middle of de street, practically on de doors of de Old Tavern?”

Negaduck pulled his cape away, and stared down at him coldly. “I’ll deal with the rumors should they come, you just worry about yourself.”

Starting rumors with the Prince of Darkness was a dangerous thing, and hence, rare. If one was started, he’d end it before it got the chance to spread – with a bullet to the brain of whoever dared to spread gossip about the lord of villains.

Might as well get it over wit’, Valentino. Tentatively, Steelbeak stripped off his black pants and got to his knees. A bird of Steelbeak’s class liked to have privacy when he was in an amorous mood, but he wouldn’t have any of it tonight. His proud head that was normally held high was kept low in embarrassment and submission, and there was no smug smirk on his face -- only dread.

“Before I get started, I’ll have to warn you that The Thunderbird’s not gentle . . . “ Negaduck warned as he got behind Steelbeak, referring to his penis.

Steelbeak gulped, bracing himself for what was to come. “Well . . . T-T’anks fer de disclaimer.”

With a sneer, Negaduck pressed himself up against Steelbeak’s rear end. “You’re welcome . . . “ Without warning, he threw his hips forward and made his penetration deep inside the rooster.

The penetration proved to be far more painful than what Steelbeak had imagined it would be, and he let out a chilling, animalistic scream of agony for proof of that. The cry was so horrific to the ears that it made Negaduck himself grit his teeth and cringe. It took a lot to make the dreaded duck shrink back from anything, but Steelbeak managed to do it.

“You honestly didn’t expect I would use lube, did you?” Negaduck laughed, digging his nails into his prey’s back.

Steelbeak grimaced, shaking his head. “Oh, n-no . . .”

The commotion had attracted the attention of a trio of passing thugs on their way to the tavern. Neither of them couldn’t help but to notice the duo engaged in sexual activity; it wasn’t everyday they came upon the Public Enemy Number One making love to someone he intended on killing. The leader of the three, a burly bulldog, couldn’t resist but to add his two worthless cents in.

“That is one ugly dame you’re doing there!” The villain he meant to have insulted was so into what he was doing that he didn’t notice or heard his comment and he moved on, annoyed by this.

Throwing his hips forward, Negaduck gave the rooster an even harder and more painful penetration than before and delighted in hearing the resulting cry of pain instead of cringing from it. He held onto Steelbeak as he came crashing onto the ground, not withdrawing until he felt himself ejaculate. The resulting semen was mixed with blood; he was so vigorous in his forced lovemaking that he had caused the rooster internal injuries.

After a moment of desperately clawing at the pavement, Steelbeak passed out from exhaustion and lack of blood. Although it looked as if Negaduck had won; he had in truth, fooled him. With his pulse nonexistent, the mallard assumed that he was dead.

“Enjoy your dirt nap, cock!” Negaduck remarked, giving his head a kick before strutting off into he night, triumphant of his wrongful doing.

For any villain, having Darkwing Duck around was bad news – that is, unless you’re one who was on the brink of death thanks to the actions of another.

For the third time in the week, Megavolt had been causing trouble at the power station. While on his way to capture him before there was yet another city-wide power outage, the Rat Catcher-driving Darkwing Duck almost sped past the crumpled form of Steelbeak lying just outside the Old Taverns’ alleyway.

Darkwing Duck had assumed that the rooster was involved in yet another bar brawl – that was until Darkwing saw the amount of blood surrounding him. Without worrying about Megavolt’s misbehavior, he placed the rooter in his sidecar and rushed him to the hospital.

Steelbeak would survive that night, but for the months following, his pride -- and confidence -- did not. He would return to his usual cocky self with a touch more respect for that vigilante who so often got in his way, but never again would he tread on the feet of another powerful criminal.
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Predator and Prey