And yet another fic I’ll be working on alongside Time Traveller Trouble, but this one is not based off any RPs. This story takes place roughly seven years after the events of TTT and all the characters are present-time. This one will be updated whenever I feel like it I guess. It came to me on a whim, so I don’t know exactly where I’m going with it ; Enjoy?

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If you were to ask anyone about the unusual events that occurred that hot, July night, their answer would be the same: Something so terribly despicable that it miraculously managed to bring together even the greatest of enemies for a short stretch of time.

Summer nights in St. Canard were often sticky and unpleasant, and this evening in particular was no exception. The dim hum of air conditioners all throughout the city, sapping up precious energy like an insect feasting on the nectar of the sweetest flower, could be heard over the seemingly orchestrated chirping of crickets. The usual nighttime activity that seemed to plague Downtown with distant sirens and occasional gunshots had died away like the cool breeze that had abandoned the metropolis, leaving behind a thick blanket of humidity. Tonight, the whole city stayed in bed, for going outside proved to be unbearable in such irriguous conditions.

But at approximately midnight, something bizarre happened. Something, that would normally have been described as ‘magical’ if the results had not been so dire. From over the Audobon Bay there came a sound that cut through the fog and humidity like a hot knife through (already softened from the steamy temperature) butter. It started quietly at first, as though someone had cranked the volume on a radio to the lowest decibel, slowly turning the dial clockwise until the sound had joined the insects and air conditioners in their midsummer night’s symphony.

The gentle notes of the mysterious flute were so hushed they left the city unruffled in its slumber. In fact, the soothing music had been more likely to put the denizens into an even deeper sleep—which may have been the very purpose of the sonancy. It was so tranquil that those who did arouse from their slumber to hear the music could not complain. It was a wonderful sound.

Unless you were Negaduck.

The criminal mastermind stirred resentfully from his once-pleasant sleep. He had been having a wonderful, vivid dream involving Darkwing Duck and a meat grinder before that repulsive racket floating in through the open window of the warehouse had jostled him awake. He was also met with the quiet, appeased purring of the demon that slept beside him in their King-sized bed. He rolled his eyes at her. Malicia could sleep through the Apocalypse, fiery brimstone and all. He was almost envious enough to prod her awake, but he wasn’t in the mood to have his tailfeathers set aflame like a Fourth of July firecracker.

Instead, he sat up slowly and rubbed the gunk from his eyes –a difficult task when you slept with a mask on your face at all times. The music outside was eating away at his eardrums. The air waves crept down his tympanic cavity and into his brain, where his fully-functioning temporal lobe translated the horrific vibration of molecules into the soft lullaby he now heard against his will. Cursing under his breath he slid to the far side of the bed which faced the wide, open window and stood with all the energy of someone whose morning coffee had been replaced with deceitful decaf. The elastic waistband of his skull-patterned boxers were digging tightly into his feathery stomach – he could almost hear Malicia nagging him for not using the home gym she set up for him many years ago, which he chose to ignore the moment it invaded one of the unused rooms downstairs. As he made his way toward the open window he pictured the cobwebs that had probably taken up residence on the stupid treadmill with the little built-in television. It was funny how that piece of crappy metal equipment almost put a wedge in his relationship with his demon companion.

But for every wedge that threatened their unlikely relationship, there was a glue that kept them stuck together in the dance of monogamy. And as the sleep-deprived mallard groggily stared out the window, he saw that metaphorical paste currently standing outside, teetering dangerously on the edge of one of the many docks in the Warehouse District in her red devil pajamas.

“MORRIGAN!” he shouted at the six-year old duckling who seemed to take no notice of her frantic father. Without another word he grabbed one of his discarded yellow jackets from the floor and hastily threw it around his bare chest, rushing downstairs and out the front door. The moment he stepped outside it was like crashing into an invisible wall of sweat and moisture. He really despised these summer nights. But at the moment, he had bigger concerns.

Within seconds he had reached her, and yanked the small body roughly by the arm away from the murky, polluted water of the Bay. The disobedient child in question didn’t seem the least bit intimidated which he found quite unusual. Morrigan knew better than to wander outside without either of her parents’ permission.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” he growled at his daughter. “Do you know what time it is?”

“It’s calling me.” The tiny voice of the duckling murmured dreamily, seemingly mesmerized by the flute playing that echoed across the Bay.

“Did you even hear me?” he hissed dangerously pulling the girl around to face him. Doing so required him to hunch down on his knees which were annoyingly stiff from sleep. The burning sensation in his rheumatic joints only made him angrier.

“Where do you get off just leaving the house like that? Are you trying to get yourself snatched up by some child-mollesting freak?!” he shook her roughly by the shoulders as he lectured her, but Morrigan remained dazed. It was almost as though she was in a state of hypnosis… perhaps she had been sleepwalking? She had done so in the past, having once chewed her mother’s tail in her sleep and peed in Pringles’ doggy dish (a feat which amused Negaduck greatly… the demon and cerberus, notsomuch). But this was the first time she had ever ventured outside after dark.

Having given up on his parental ranting he resorted to scooping the girl up in his arms. She was surprisingly heavy and the hoodie attached to her pajamas with the felt devil horns brushed against his bill as he readjusted his grip on his daughter. It was funny how fast they grew up. It seemed like only yesterday she was a fluffy ball of white feathers and blonde hair that would hide under the space in his red fedora, giggling mischievously as the hat seemed to magically grow legs and move on its own. Pretty soon he’d be giving her lessons on the art of sidewalk spitting and cat-kicking, and he secretly anticipated their first father-daughter bank robbery. Morrigan was going to grow up to be Public Enemy Number One just like her daddy.

His paternal musings were cut short however as the sound of the flute became louder, or perhaps, it was coming closer to where he stood on the dock. Within seconds, the noise was piercing his eardrums and he so very desperately wanted to clamp his hands over his head but could not do so without dropping Morrigan. Instead he opted to close his eyes and grit his teeth until they were gnashing so violently against one another he was beginning to draw blood from his already-torn gums.

Then, as quickly as the sound came, it died down again, fading away into the fog and humidity from whence it came, until it had all but disappeared completely, now just a soft hum in the distance. Slowly, he opened his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. He felt lighter now, as though a slight weight had been lifted from his body.

It took him only a few more seconds to register that a slight weight had been lifted from his body. His arms were completely empty. Frantically, he scanned the docks and surrounding area. Morrigan was nowhere in sight. How could she have slipped away so quickly? It was almost as though she faded alongside the music. He didn’t even feel her wriggle out of his arms, which had been gripping her so tightly he might’ve strangled her had he constricted any further.

His daughter was gone. And now, as he stood numbly, breathlessly, by the edge of the Bay, he was unable to utter a single sound. The flute’s siren song had finally ended.

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Dun dun duuun. Who could be behind this strange event? Is Morrigan the only missing child? And how the hell did Malicia sleep through all that excitement? All this and more, in the next chapter!