Darkwing Duck: The Webfoot Chronicles I
My Kingdom For A Double-Plait Bolt!
By Rebecca Littlehales
Act I
The man in the mask ran as fast as he could, looking over his shoulder periodically. The large bag he was carrying weighed him down, but he was pretty sure he'd given the duck the slip. He was looking forward to getting home- which would be reached through the sewers, of course, to avoid the risk of the cops or the vigilante tracking him down- and settling down to count the cash he'd lifted. "So, banks are useful for something after all," he said, wasting precious breath but not caring. He slowed down to get his bearings and check what street he was on.
"West and Main... that's to the east of Third, right?" he said to himself, not noticing the dark figure advancing silently behind him. "Yeah.. I passed my turn point by about two streets," he said. He wondered if it was worth going back and risking running into Dorkwing Duck (he and his friends considered the name their own original invention, and sniggered over it constantly), but decided that he'd left the do-gooder far behind.
He was wrong, of course.
"Going somewhere?" said Darkwing as the masked man turned around. He smiled a little as the man's face twisted into a mask of complete horror and paranoia.
"You-- you--!" spluttered the criminal.
"Too true," said Darkwing.
"And me!" said Launchpad, standing just behind Darkwing with his arms across his chest. The man started to regain his ability to think, and looked like he was getting ready to run away. Darkwing withdrew his gas gun and pointed it at his enemy. "Suck gas, evildoer," he said confidently, and squeezed the trigger.
Much to Darkwing's surprise and dismay, instead of the usual launch of gas the gun broke apart in his hands, falling into three separate pieces. The canister of gas fell at his feet and exploded, letting off a large amount of bluish-gray knockout gas and allowing the villain ample time to escape.
Darkwing and Launchpad, meanwhile, emerged from the cloud of gas hacking their lungs out. "What happened?" gasped Launchpad.
"*Gack*- Looks like I lost three of my 4 1/4 double-plait olts! Boy, go figure on that timing!" said Darkwing. "Come on, LP, we can't let this masked felon escape! It's a slow night! He may be all the excitement we get!" Launchpad, who was gathering up the separate pieces of the gas gun, straightened up and they both set off after the criminal.
"Say, Launchpad, how many 4 1/4 bolts do I have left at headquarters?" Darkwing asked his sidekick later, as a passing newsvan that was also having a slow night had them pose as the "daring heroes that apprehended a dastardly criminal". The criminal himself had been apprehended mere minutes ago, and was now safely incarcerated.
"Uh, are those the kind I used to fix the video game controller?" said Launchpad. "In that case- two," he said. Darkwing sighed, rolling his eyes. "Well, I guess we're going to Bindler's Hardware Store tomorrow," he said.
"Bindler's? I thought we usually went to Outlet Hardware," said Launchpad, turning his head to look at Darkwing.
"They went out of business," said Darkwing. "Turn around! You're going to ruin the picture!" he snapped, facing Launchpad, and at that moment the flash went off. "What the- Hey!! I wasn't ready! You take that picture again!"
The photographer shook his head and said, "That's what you get, bud!"
It was early in the afternoon the next day when the bell over the door rang in the hardware store. Henny Chickstein was sitting in the back room, reading her movie magazine and admiring Flynn O'Rapture's biceps, and she didn't even bother to look up from the picture as she shouted "Customers!" to the younger woman doing inventory behind her.
"I heard, Henny! I'm going!" said Beth Webfoot, a timid looking duck whose appearances weren't deceiving. She carefully placed the clipboard she was writing in down on a bench and pushed up her glasses. She hoped that this wasn't more weirdness. It had been a hectic day, as days for Beth went, starting with a weird phone conversation about appendixes with her mother at six-forty-five that morning, right up until the last customer had come in about an hour ago. Beth was routine, and preferred it that way. Change was scary, and at the moment, she was really in need of something normal to latch onto. She sighed and went through the door that led to the main part of the store.
"...Well, I only need one!" Drake Mallard was saying to Launchpad as they walked through the door. He flicked a small piece of lint off of his shirt sleeve as he muttered to himself, "Makes a weird kind of sense that I'd run out of 4 1/4 bolts when I only need one more..."
"Hi, can I help... you...," Beth trailed off as she slowly regarded her customers, and they her. She felt reality slipping away from her. Breathing became hard, and her heart started beating several hundred miles an hour. Having lost control over her muscles, her jaw drifted open, as did Launchpad's as he regarded her. It was love at first sight for both of them. Drake, meanwhile, gave them both a look of utter impatience. "Um... excuse me..." said Beth, darting back into the inventory room. "Henny! I've just seen the handsomest duck in the world! I think I'm in love!" she exclaimed.
"You? Miss Straight-as-a-Line Beth Webfoot? This must be some guy!" said Henny, forgoing her magazine and peering out the door. She spotted Launchpad, who was trying to remember how to breathe, and swooned. "Ohhh, man, he is something! I love a guy with red hair. You can't have him, he's mine!"
"Huh? Oh, no, not the tall one! I like the other one- the one in the sweater vest!" said Beth. "The... The normal-looking one!"
"His bill's a little too big...," said Henny critically. Beth's face fell. "Listen, love or no love, they're waiting to be served out there! Get out and deal with them! If they don't get good service, who's going to get blamed? Me."
"Right," said Beth as Henny pushed her out through the open door. Launchpad, who had just started to recover, saw her and fell on the floor.
"Hi again!" said Beth a bit self-conciously. She looked Drake over, trying to think of something to say. Henny was right, his bill was a little large, but it added to his appeal. And his eyes... His eyes were a pale blue, the color of so many other men she'd seen before. So ordinary, but somehow so wonderful. He wasn't too tall- in fact, he was sort of on the shortish side. She figured she was at least two inches taller than he was. But that was okay... He had a look to him, the look of someone who liked to spend a relaxing Sunday at home, and would probably make a great father. She realized that she'd been standing there, staring at him, for over thirty seconds, and scrambled for something to say. "Hey, is he okay?" she asked Drake, pointing to Launchpad. She leaned over the counter to look at him and make sure he was all right, and he jumped back onto his feet, startling her.
"Yes, he's fine- don't worry," said Drake. Launchpad attempted to assure her that he was alright, too, but was unable to speak and so just nodded his head vigorously.
It was as good a start as any. She picked up from there. "Well, that's good. I'm Beth Webfoot, how may I help you?" she asked professionally.
Launchpad sighed. Beth. It was a nice name, not flashy or anything, but it suited her perfectly. She wasn't especially flashy herself... A moderate height, good posture, dark brown hair that was a bit longer than shoulder length. It was tied back in a loose ponytail. Her eyes were blue, the color that was most often described as "ice", or "crystal". He figured that, if he thought about it, he'd remember having seen eyes the same color as hers on other women. But at the moment, he felt like he hadn't seen any women who were exactly like her in his life. Her eyes were partially obscured behind a thick pair of glasses, which gave her a very brainy look. And in addition to all of that, she had amazing hands. Launchpad wasn't sure what exactly drew him to her hands, but they were remarkable. They were delicate and slender, and her fingers were long and graceful and white. In addition to all of that, as she stood there watching them both timidly from behind her glasses, Launchpad suddenly realized that Beth was also painfully, crushingly shy. She almost had the look of a deer caught in a car's headlights. But she was fighting to overcome it. As Launchpad admired her efforts, Drake was doing the talking, and he was now answering her question.
"Well, I have a sort of a desperate need for a 4 1/4 double-plait bolt," said Drake, not recognizing the fact that her introductio as made in hopes that he would tell her his name.
A 4 1/4 double-plait bolt. Beth was impressed - that was one of the less-used kinds of bolts in America. He was so perfect, she thought. Even though her ploy to find out his name had failed, she still was cheerful as she reached under the counter, exclaiming, "Wow, what luck! We just got a shipment in yesterday..." Suddenly, however, her face fell. "Oh no..."
"What? What's wrong?" said Launchpad, finding his tongue.
"I can't believe this! We're all out-- I'm so sorry!" she said, and genuinely was sorry. In fact, she was on the verge of tears, she was so sorry.
"It's okay--it's not that big a deal!" said Launchpad, his heart going out to her immediately. Drake also reacted with his characteristic understanding.
"Oh, great! I come all the way out here, and you don't even have any! The Outlet store always had plenty, although now that I think about it they always looked sort of deformed. Maybe that's why they went out of business." Beth, who felt bad enough to start with, became desperately afraid that he was mad at her and starting wringing her hands nervously. Launchpad watched her twist her thin, beautiful hands for a moment, and then helpfully offered his scarf for her to cry into.
"We don't have any?? Where'd they all go?!" cried Henny, coming around to the front of the store.
"I... sold them!" said Beth in her quiet, shy voice. She had obviously never stood up for herself before and wasn't about to start now. Henny, on the other hand, was obviously quite used to berating her, and slipped into the routine easily.
"You sold a full shipment of 220 in two days? I don't see the profits in the register, Beth..." She stole a couple of looks at Launchpad to see what he thought of the way she was handling this. She was bent out of shape to notice that, instead of being impressed by her business-like manner, he seemed displeased at the way she was talking to Beth.
"This is ridiculous. It's not worth that much of an effort, we can just go someplace else. Come on, Launchpad, let's go," said Drake, pulling Launchpad from Beth's side towards the door. Launchpad, unwilling to leave, dug his heels in and resisted as much as he possibly could.
"Well.. that last customer that was in here bought them, but he sort of forgot to pay for them and I didn't want to bother him about it."
Henny rolled her eyes. "Oh, ter-rif-ic! We got robbed, and you didn't even report it!"
"Did you hear that, DW? They got robbed! Isn't that a case for Darkwing Duck?" said Launchpad urgently.
"NO! A robbery at a hardware store- so what?! That sort of case is a trifle, fit only for the police- if them," said Drake. "Now, maybe if they'd been robbed by someone in particular, like... Well, who would rob a hardware store?"
Meanwhile, the conversation between Henny and Beth continued. "Who was it? Maybe we can get in a description or something..." said Henny, exasperated.
"Oh, I don't know- he wasn't so special or anything! He had a big plug on his head..." said Beth. Drake stopped tugging at Launchpad at this, and rushed back to the desk. Launchpad, relieved, followed.
"Oh, you mean the guy with the battery on his back? What a kook! Looked like he'd stuck a finger in a few too many lightsockets!" said Henny.
"Excuse me... You wouldn't happen to be talking about Megavolt, would you?" asked Drake, trying to be nonchalent.
"Who?" they both said blankly. Drake muttered something and smacked his hand onto his forehead.
"Listen, ladies, any information you can give me would be extremely helpful," said Drake persuasively. He was happy to see that Beth seemed to be willing to comply. All too willing, in fact - she had an adoring look in her eye, and smiled at him sweetly.
"Well, he was about this tall," she began, and started to indicate a height. She was cut off by Henny, who slapped a hand over her mouth.
"Are you a police officer?" asked Henny.
Drake paused, considering considering his answer. "...Well, no, not technically..."
"Then we're not going to be giving you any information, sorry. We have a right to a lawyer!" she shouted, and then started in on Beth again. "You know, I've been tolerant up until now. But I mean, if you keep making trouble, I won't be able to get Employee of the Month for the Bindler's chain anymore! You know I'm going for a record..."
"Yes, I know," said Beth.
"It's my job, you know. You're just the assistant here!" she said.
"I know," said Beth dully. This was obviously a routine for them.
"What am I going to do now?" said Henny, knowing full well what was going to be done.
"I'll gladly pay the money lost out of my own salary," said Beth, none too gladly.
"Darn right you will," said Henny.
"Hey, don't talk to her like that!" said Launchpad. Drake, Henny, and Beth all looked at him at once.
"I don't care how cute you are, sweetheart - keep your nose out of other people's business!" said Henny.
"Are you going to be much longer, Mr. Chivalry? I'll be waiting outside!" whispered Drake, having put up with all he could, and he left.
With Drake's departure, something went out of Beth and she hung her head. "I'm sorry, Henny. Okay?" she muttered. Henny decided to save the rest of the berating for later so she could make a better impression on the Hunk of the Month (who actually seemed to have taken a shining to Beth - go fig).
"Yeah, I guess so. We'll talk later, okay? I'm going into the back, call if you need anything." As she walked back through the door, she turned and gave Launchpad a wink.
"Thank you for standing up for me," said Beth, still looking at the floor.
"Aw, it was nothin'," said Launchpad, blushing. "Uh, my name's Launchpad McQuack. Are you okay?"
She looked up and smiled at him, a trifle sadly. "Yes, I'm fine. My name's Beth Webfoot."
"I remember. You told us earlier," he added, noticing her confusion.
"Oh, right. Well, Mr. McQuack, um, what was your friend's name?" she said, seeing her chance.
"Oh, you can call me Launchpad," he said, beaming at her.
"Well, then, you call me Beth!" she said, smiling genuinely.
"Okay. Well, my friend's name is Drake Mallard, and I..."
"Really! What a nice name! Does he have any hobbies?" she said, pressing him.
"Uh... Well, not really... There is one thing that he does to pass the time, but..." he trailed off, and she pushed him on, grinning.
"Tell me! Maybe it's my hobby, too!"
"Uh, I really doubt it," he said, starting to catch on to what she was doing. It was kind of depressing him. "It's kinda... unusual."
"So am I! Try me," she said, desperate to have a conversation topic with Drake if she ever saw him again. At the word "unusual", her heart fell a little. So he wasn't so normal, after all. But it was probably only a little thing, she reasoned, and besides, no one could be completely ordinary.
Drake poked his head in the door. "Launchpad? If you can tear yourself away for a moment...?"
"Sure thing, DW!" said Launchpad, and tried to leave before Beth asked him what "DW" stood for.
"Well, so long! I hope we meet again some day!" she said, from behind him. Drake rolled his eyes and went outside again.
"Yeah... that'd be nice," said Launchpad, turning around to smile at her. She smiled back, and waved a little.
"Tell Mr. Mallard 'hi' for me," she said.
"I will," he vowed, trying not to let the disappointment show in his voice as he turned and left.