After scouring St. Canard’s grimiest bars and strip clubs, Darkwing was able to find a solid lead on where Negaduck was currently hiding out.

“The warehouse district,” he told Quiverwing as he hopped back on to the Ratcatcher. “No surprise there; it’s a popular place for the conniving criminal element.”

Quiverwing, who had been forced to wait outside during Darkwing’s search of the city’s more “mature” dives, was more than ready to see some action. “Awesome sauce, let’s go kick his feathered tail around the block!” she punched the air with a determined fist.

“Hold it, missy! You’re staying out of the way, remember?”

“Daaaad!”

I mean it,” Darkwing stared down his disobedient daughter. “You can come and watch, but you need to remain completely out of sight!”

Quiverwing raised one hand. “Scouts honor, Pops.”

“You got kicked out of scouts after that incident with the llama and the corn.”

“Yeah… good times,” she grinned. “I’ll keep out of trouble, I promise.”

Negaduck’s hide-out was one of the older, unused warehouses, situated close to the Audubon harbour. The abandoned building was filled with empty crates, and the empowering scent of decay and mold choked any life that may have once resided within its walls. The air was hot, and sticky, with a viscosity similar to spit. Negaduck loved it.

“Yowza! No way those are real.” The masked criminal smirked as he thumbed through the latest issue of PlayDuck. He was lounging on a torn-up couch, his feet propped up on a scratched coffee table. Aside from the abused furniture, Negaduck’s hide-out consisted of a television set and a large pile of questionable magazines stacked beside the couch, their covers adorned with scantily clad females.

“I am the terror that flaps in the night!” a familiar voice bellowed, followed by a cloud of blue smoke. “I am the dimly lit bulb that strains your eyes.” Darkwing suddenly appeared next to the couch, arms outstretched dramatically. “I am Darkwing Duck!”

“Oh, you’re dim all right,” Negaduck muttered, but didn’t budge an inch, nor spare Darkwing a glance. Instead, he let out a low whistle. “Now that is a nice pair,” He tapped the page with his finger. “A masterpiece, even.”

“Uh… hello? Terror that flaps here?”

“I heard you the first time!” Negaduck barked, raising his head to glare at his twin. “What the hell do ya want?”

“You know why I’m here!” Darkwing jabbed a finger in Negaduck’s face. Immediately he cringed as Negaduck grabbed it and twisted sharply.

“No, I don’t know why you’re here, other than to annoy me and cut into my personal literature time.” There was a yelp from Darkwing as Negaduck twisted his finger further.

“I’d… ow! Hardly call that literature,” Darkwing gasped in pain. Finally, Negaduck released his aching digit, causing him to fall backwards.

Negaduck set the magazine down on the coffee table and sat up straight.“You’ve got five seconds to leave before I break the rest of the bones in your body,” he said with a snarl.

“Admit it!” cried Darkwing. “It was you who burnt down the Shadow Chateau!”

“Your dumb girlfriend’s restaurant?” His sneer slowly slid into a smile. “No, but I wish I had. Heard about it on the news, though.”

“…So you didn’t do it?” Darkwing scratched his head thoughtfully. “Huh.”

“Don’t get me wrong, Dipwing. If I knew about the anniversary I would’ve loved to see it go up in flames by my own handiwork.” He grinned. “It was a sloppy job, whoever did it.”

“How do I know you’re not lying?” Darkwing narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

“Simple!” Negaduck motioned to himself dramatically. “Now if I had done it, I would’ve barred all the doors and shut the windows beforehand. Then I’d video tape all those poor saps, trapped and burning to death.” There was a malicious glint in his eyes, as though he were playing out the entire gruesome scenario in his head.

Darkwing blinked. “Video tape it?”

“Yeah! For later wanking material. Nothing gets me up quite like the tantalizing aroma of burning flesh.” Negaduck grinned.

“…You, are by far, the most disgusting, vile, perverse creature I have ever had the displeasure of meeting, you know that?”

“Why, thank you!” Negaduck retrieved a large bazooka from within his jacket. “Now GET THE FUCK OUT.” He jammed the end in Darkwing’s face, preparing to pull the trigger.

“Eat arrow, evil-doer!”

Negaduck looked up, trying to locate the mystery voice. In hindsight this turned out to be a bad idea when a suction arrow collided with his face. He shot upright out of his seat, attempting to pull the object off his face, and in the process, stepped on the pile of magazines. His webbed feet slid clumsily under the glossy paper until he fell face-forward into the coffee table with a sickening crack!

“Gos—Quiverwing! What did I tell you?!”

“Hey, I stayed out of sight, didn’t I?” answered the masked red-head, who was perched on a rafter above Darkwing. “And a thank you would be nice for saving your life!”

Darkwing sighed, massaged his temples, and then glanced at Negaduck. The villain was lying unconscious on the floor, small birds tweeting around his head. “Let’s just get out of here before Sleeping Ugly wakes up, okay?”

“You really think he’s innocent?” Quiverwing slid down a nearby beam and landed on the couch, bouncing lightly.

“Innocent isn’t a word I’d ever use to describe Negaduck.” He kicked the magazines under the couch as he spoke. “But I do think he’s telling the truth. It isn’t like Negs to cover up a crime, he prefers bragging about it.”

“There goes our only lead then.” Quivering huffed. “What now?”

“Simple, my dear protégé. We return to the scene of the crime.”

Darkwing and Quiverwing pulled up in front of the iron gates of the dilapidated restaurant. Yellow tape stretched around the property, which added to the depressing sight.

“How are we gunna find any clues in this mess?” Quiverwing was getting frustrated.

It was then that Darkwing spotted Morgana on the other side of the fence, talking with a police officer. “Let’s keep quiet about the whole clue thing, shall we?” he muttered. Morgana seemed to be having a very animated conversation with the bulky-looking bulldog. Slowly, Darkwing approached the two from behind Morgana.

“… But surely they must have something on file?” She sounded frantic.

“Sorry Ma’am, that’s not our responsibility. Now, if you don’t mind, we’re done investigating here. We’ll call you if we find any new developments in the case.” He tipped his hat and headed back to his squad car. Morgana’s shoulders sagged with defeat.

“What was that all about?”

“Dark!” she jumped with surprise, turning around. “You startled me. What are you doing here?”

“I dropped by to see if you were here,” he lied. “What was that all about? Is something wrong?” He watched her with a frown. Ever since the arson, Morgana had been very jumpy and was acting rather paranoid. There were dark bags under her eyes due to lack of sleep, and her hair was frazzled; her appearance was unusually unkempt.

Morgana shook her head. “It’s… nothing. Really.”

“Morg, I know you better than that.” Darkwing crossed his arms. “Something else has happened, hasn’t it?”

“Fine, you caught me,” she sighed. “I called the insurance company today, and they don’t have any record of the contract I made with them.” Her brow furrowed in confusion. “It doesn’t make any sense, but I do have the paperwork at home. I’m sure if I show it to them, I can receive my payment for rebuilding.”

“Ah, so you were discussing it with the police?”

“Well, Officer Granbull came by to let me know they were done investigating the crime scene, and I’m now free to rebuild on the land. That’s when I told him my problem…”

Darkwing stroked his chin. “It is rather odd that all evidence of your insurance would vanish like that.” His face suddenly lit up with realization. “Almost as if someone purposely erased your information!”

“Darkwing, that’s nonsense!” Morgana crossed her arms, but she didn’t sound completely sure of herself. “That’s what the solid paperwork is for, in case something goes wrong with the electronic copy.”

“How about I drive you back to your place, then?” He jerked a thumb behind him in the direction of the Ratcatcher. “Gos would want to say hello, anyways.”

“You can both stay for dinner!” Morgana smiled and clasped her hands together. “I’m positive I’ve found something you’ll love!”

Darkwing doubted that, but he didn’t want to spoil Morgana’s positive mood. She was finally starting to recover from the shock of losing her business. “Sounds great, Morg. I haven’t had a bite to eat all day.” It was true, of course. He had been too busy scouring the seedy underbelly of St. Canard in search of Negaduck, but he wasn’t about to tell her that.

The trip to MaCawber Mansion was rather short, as Morgana did not live very far from the restaurant. Darkwing pulled in front of the house, dreading whatever new recipe Morgana had planned for him. But one quick glance at the front door told him that dinner would have to wait. The front door had been busted down.

Morgana noticed immediately, and with a gasp she leapt off the Ratcatcher and rushed up the front steps. Her dress snagged itself on a rusty nail sticking out of the porch and she didn’t even pause to unhook it, allowing the bottom of her dress to rip.

“Hold up! Someone could still be in there!” Darkwing followed behind closely, only to pause in the doorway. The first thing he noticed was the front door, which had been completely plowed into the ground, and was covered in claw marks. There were also scorch marks on the door frame, as though someone, or something, had burned its way inside.

The state of the mansion was even worse. Tables and chairs were toppled over, cushions had been pulled from the couches, and there were various holes punched into the walls.

“Look at this!” Quiverwing had followed Darkwing inside, and was pointing at the portrait of Morgana that hung over the mantelpiece by the fire place. Someone had scribbled a mustache and unibrow on her face with a black permanent marker. “Why would a burglar even do that?”

“Because it isn’t just a regular burglar” Darkwing responded coldly. “This is clearly the work of that arsonist. I was right, Morgana is being targeted!” His fists curled with rage.

“No!” Morgana’s voice cried from upstairs.

Tripping over his cape, Darkwing stumbled blindly up the stairs and down the hallway to where Morgana stood in her bedroom. “What is it?! Is the thief here?” He had his gas gun out and pointed it into the bedroom, expecting the guilty party to jump out at any second.

But Morgana simply shook her head, and swallowed heavily. “The paperwork… it’s gone.”

A fairly brief chapter, with a special cameo by everyone's favourite asshole ;) Again, special thanks to beta reader Cheezey for reviewing!