"Reversed Polarity"

A Darkwing Duck fanfic by Rydia Erdrick Landale (aka "Captain Chaotica!!")

Chapter One: "Transdimensional Homesick Blues"

Herman the mail-carrier looked nervously up and down the street as he began his morning route. It was never safe, here in St. Canard. Oh, sure, things were better now since Darkwing Duck's brief visit last year--the electricity was back on, the water had been made drinkable, and the plants were growing again--but one year's worth of repairs could not hide or cover up 20 years' worth of destruction and evil--the city still looked like what it was--a burned out, ruined husk. The buildings were barely kept from falling over by leaning against each other, the road was full of potholes, and the sidewalks almost devoid of people. Of course, that itself wasn't that unusual at this early hour, but later on in the day, it would still be more or less the same, Herman knew. The people stayed indoors as much as possible out of fear. After all, you never knew WHEN Lord Nega--the scrawny young crane caught himself--just Negaduck was going to return. Sure, the Friendly Four were protecting the city now, but old habits were hard to break...
But the street seemed to be fairly safe at the moment--decrepit, but safe--so the messenger set off on his rounds. Neither rain, nor snow, nor dark of night, yada yada but the danger of crime is something else altogether, thought Herman wryly.
It was, as always, a boring job, but the spring weather was nice, and the scenery rushing past was enough to keep him distracted. Cheerfully whistling as he rode his bicycle down Avian Way towards the downtown area, Herman continued on his route.

Gosalyn Waddlemeyer was up early that morning, as she wanted to make sure the house was all perfect for her four guardians. They work so hard, she thought, as she cheerfully scrubbed the top of the sink, her red ringlets bouncing about her shoulders. They deserve a nice home to live in. Maybe I'll cook breakfast today--I'm SURE I won't set the kitchen on fire this time--and-- Her train of thought was momentarily broken by a sound from near the front doorway--the morning mail had just arrived. Gosalyn left off cleaning and skipped over to the door, curious, but somebody else had already gotten there first.
One of the Friendly Four, Megavolt, had come downstairs and was yawning hugely. He was wearing his traditional yellow jumpsuit, gloves, and boots, all in rubber--as he HAD to, in order to keep himself from accidentally damaging things and people all the time--but since it was early and he wasn't yet ready for the day, his customary battery, goggles, plug-shaped helmet, giant socket, and extension cord hadn't yet been put on. The mutant superhero picked up the mail in a big clump and started going through it. One might think it'd be difficult to handle pieces of paper while wearing rubber gloves, but Megavolt had a lot of practice.
"Bill, bill, bill, junk mail, junk mail--oh wait, this must be for Reggie," said Megavolt, putting aside a letter from the Save Our Trees Foundation. He turned around as Gosalyn came up behind him. "Where is Reg anyway? Is he up yet?" he asked.
Gosalyn went back into the kitchen and peeked out the window. "Still outside, soaking up the dew," she reported, as her eyes picked out the mutant plant-duck in the back yard. The sun hadn't quite risen yet, so he was somewhat difficult to see against the green grass of the lawn, as he had his roots planted in the ground and was not moving at all. If you didn't know what to look for, you'd mistake him for a small tree. "We should let him wake up when he's ready; I think darkness makes plants sleepy, you know..."
Megavolt nodded, rubbed the sleep from his own eyes, and continued through the stack of letters. "More bills, MORE junk mail, and...hmm? What's this?" He grabbed one letter excitedly and started ripping it open. Gosalyn stood on tip-toes behind him trying to see what it was, but there was no chance of her possibly seeing over his shoulder. Fortunately, she didn't have to, because he started reading the letter aloud.
"Dear Elmo Sputterspark," the letter began. "We are sending you this letter as a former alumnus of St. Canard High, to cordially invite you to our 20-year reunion. Come, join us for a night of remembrance, meet old friends you thought you'd never see again, and perhaps a few new faces as well. We sincerely hope to see you there.
(Signed), The St. Canard High School Student Council.
P.S. Duckburg High's principal has most graciously allowed us to hold our reunion there, as St. Canard High no longer exists. Be aware of the change in address."
Megavolt put the letter down, staring at it in amazement. "My high school reunion!" he exclaimed. "Oh, boy! I haven't seen my schoolmates in 20 years! I can't wait to see all those people again! All those people...who...always made fun of me, said my experiments were crazy, called me a freak..." he trailed off, uncertain. "Wait a minute, where was I originally going with this?"
Gosalyn had other matters on her mind, though. "The 20-year reunion? But if you like reunions so much, why didn't you go to the 10-year one? And what's this about St. Canard High not existing...?"
Megavolt, meanwhile, had wandered into the kitchen looking for the coffee and was somewhat distracted. "There was no 10-year reunion; Negaduck was fully in charge back then and nobody would have DARED send out invitations telling the exact address of a gathering--Negaduck LOVES it whenever there's a lot of people in one place. It makes violence more convenient." Having found the coffee filters, he placed one inside the Mr. Java and then looked for the can of grounds. "I think Negaduck hadn't found out about the portal to the Otherworld yet, so he was around here 100% of the time, you see. Life was more dangerous back then than you can remember it being. Even the four of us, with our powers, didn't dare stir from our homes more often than we absolutely needed to, for food and other supplies..." He shook his head. "What turned out to be one of the other St. Canard's worst problems has become sort of a bonus for us--although I know I shouldn't say such mean things."
"But what's this about the high school not existing?" asked Gosalyn again, in that persistent way that little kids have. "And who is Elmo Sputterspark? I thought your name was Megavolt! Maybe they sent the letter to the wrong house...?"
Megavolt loaded some coffee grounds into the Mr. Java, turned the machine on with a short zap from his finger rather than plugging it in, and turned to face Gosalyn directly. "No, I am--was--Elmo Sputterspark," he said, a kind of sad tone in his voice. "And I can tell you what happened to the school. After all..." he sighed. "I was there that night..."

Herman had reached the last letter in his bag and pulled it out, gratefully, thinking that now he could go home and get some breakfast. But then his eyes noticed the address on the envelope...and he stopped short, braking so fast his bike almost flipped over. "WHAT the...?" he said to himself in disbelief, reading the address again to make sure he wasn't seeing things.
1136 Audobon Bay Road, Apartment 3-C
St. Canard, (Normalverse), Calisota, U.S.A.

"What?! Normalverse?" Herman scratched his head, trying to figure out what that meant. To him, the Negaverse had always been the "normal" one...after all, he'd grown up here. Only those denizens of the Negaverse who had heard of the other would even consider calling their OWN universe "opposite". "They want me to deliver a letter to an alternate universe? Oh, come on! I mean, I know we're supposed to be able to deliver our letters no matter what, but this is RIDICULOUS!"
He was about to throw the letter away as a bad joke and go home--after all, it was the last one in his sack--but stopped, thinking. If this was serious, it'd sure be an interesting challenge...
Herman made up his mind and turned his bicycle towards the one place in St. Canard where might be found a person who could help him with such a bizzarre request--
McCawber Enterprises, Limited.

Lightning flashed out of a clear blue sky as, against his better judgement, Herman rode up to the gates of the impressive-looking office building. He jumped, jerking so hard on the handlebars that he nearly caused himself to crash into a tree, but got the bike back under control again. Calm yourself, buddy... muttered the postal worker under his breath, as he parked his bike under the tree and walked nervously towards the gates. You've heard the stories about this place, this is perfectly normal, it's SUPPOSED to do that...
He raised his hand to rap on the metal bars of the gate--ready to flinch backwards at any moment should lightning strike again--but this was made uncessary as a black-armoured cyborg duck with spikes on its shoulder-plates came rolling up to him on one tire. "WHAT is your business here, Citizen?" sneered a melodramatic voice with a slight trace of British accent. "State your purpose here at McCawber Enterprises, or--" a huge arsenal of weapons popped out of various hatches on the metallic suit--"FACE THE CONSEQUENCES!!"
"YIKES!" Herman leapt backwards in fear, but before the cyborg creature could open fire, a soft female voice sounded from behind him.
"Now, now, Metalladuck, I hired you for more...precise violence this week, not as a mere bouncer," said a tall, slender duck woman from the main doorway of the office building. She glided over to the gates in a strange way that made it almost look as if she was floating, even though Herman could see her high-heel-clad feet, perfectly normal... "I am so sorry, this was never meant to happen." she addressed Herman. "Good morning, I am Morgana McCawber, owner and C.E.O. of McCawber Enterprises, Inc. And you are...?"
"Herk--" Herman cleared his throat and tried again. "I'm nobody important, just a mailman, but--"
Morgana tossed her shoulder-length, silver-streaked black hair back and stood up, giving the messenger a cold look. "I have all MY mail delivered by a special service. Good day." Then she turned to walk back into the building, as if the messenger no longer existed.
"Wait!" said Herman, feeling stupider and stupider about his choice to come here as he did so. But I've come this far, I can't give up now... "I've...I've got a favour to ask of you! It has to do with magic!"
THAT got her attention. "Magic?" said Morgana, striding back over towards him at an unnervingly fast pace. "Why, whatever gave you the idea that I have anything to do with magic? I am a perfectly ordinary--although, of course, very very successful--businesswoman." She started gently steering Herman towards the building as she spoke, however, the gates opening by themselves. Herman didn't notice--he was too freaked out by the fact that Metalladuck, the legendary mechanical supervillian of Duckburg, was following RIGHT behind him...with the weapons out again. "I don't know WHERE all these ugly rumours about my having 'supernatural help' to build my empire came from, I really don't..." Morgana continued on, as she kept steering Herman where she wanted him to go.
Finally, they reached a small meeting room inside the building. There were no lights or light-switches in evidence--and no windows either--but Morgana pointed her finger at the door, shutting it, then snapped her fingers and made a glowing blue ball of light appear. It floated to a point roughly in the very middle of the room and then stopped, hanging in the air. "We're alone now," she snapped, leaning across the table towards the bewildered Herman. "TALK."
"Um, well, you see, I, er, I have this letter that says it's from the, you know, the Other universe, and, I was just thinking, maybe, you know, with what they say you can do with your magic, maybe...you could...?"
"Open a portal to the Otherworld?" Ms. McCawber leaned back in the leather office chair and steepled her fingers, looking at the young mail-bird through hooded green eyes. "Hmm. Normally I would've kicked you right out or let Metalladuck here do what he wanted to you, but I practically NEVER get requests about magic from normals..."
Herman looked around the room nervously. It looked like a perfectly ordinary conference room--save the lack of lights and windows--but that floating ball of blue light wasn't showing the _whole_ room, and he couldn't shake the feeling that Something...or perhaps somethingS...were watching him from the shadows. "So, uh...will you do it?"
"What's in it for ME?" she countered. When Herman just opened his mouth and stared at her, trying to work out how much of his meager savings he'd be able to spare, she went on, "I am a businesswoman, Mr. Herman Spoonbill. Whatever else you may have heard about me--the crime rackets, the hostile takeovers, the sudden...disappearances of my main competitors, my supernatural connections and other, even less savoury rumours...I am a businesswoman. First and foremost. So I ask again: What's in it for me?"
"Um...um...um..." Herman thought frantically. "Um..." Businesswoman... he thought. Wait, that's it! "If you open a portal to the Otherworld," he said aloud, "You'll have a whole other universe's worth of business opportunities to explore!"
Morgana blinked, surprised. "Fascinating." she said as calmly as if she hadn't just heard the best idea of the decade. "There may be hope for you yet. Have you considered working for MY organisation, Mr. Spoonbill?"
Wait, how did she know my name? Herman thought, finally noticing. "Um, not really, but well, I mean, the pay isn't very good working for the Post Office, so..."
"You may just want to consider it." said Ms. McCawber, standing up and smoothing out an imperceptible wrinkle in her conservative dark blue blazer. "For now, I'll only be opening a small portal--not big enough to send a person through, just the letter itself. Magic ingredients are so expensive, you see, and I'd hate to waste a powerful spell before things have been properly prepared for my new business ventures..."
"So, do we have to go into your dungeon to do the spell?" asked Herman, now starting to get into the spirit of things.
"Dungeon?" laughed Morgana. "Oh, what old-fashioned notions you have. This is the '90s, my dear boy. A MODERN witch wouldn't even dream of lurking in dungeons or stirring smelly bubbling cauldrons all day."
She pushed a button under the table and part of it flipped over, revealing a computer keyboard--black, with arcane runes in silver on the keys rather than normal letters, numbers, and symbols. Morgana tapped on it for a bit, causing other panels to open up in the table as she did so. Bowls of mysterious ingredients--ingredients that Herman frankly didn't want to KNOW about--popped out of those panels and mechanical arms put precise amounts of said ingredients into a circle-shaped depression next to the computer panel. She pushed some more buttons, and the arms stirred and mashed up the ingredients into a gloppy grey gook. "And 10 cc's of monkey drool," she said to herself, and tapped one last button. The last ingredient was added, and, with a bang, the potion gave off a small mushroom-cloud of bright pink steam. "Place the letter here, boy." she indicated the potion.
Herman put the letter in the built-in bowl, then yanked his hand out of range, afraid of what might happen if he was too near the spell.
Morgana typed in a few more keystrokes. There was a great flash of light, the potion started glowing, then smoke streaked with spiral stripes of dark blue and vibrant yellow began to climb out of the bowl in a column, seeming almost solid, and faint ghosts of voices floated through the room, just on the edge of hearing. The letter floated up on this smoke, being carried gently around inside it as if in a slow-motion tornado, and when the smoke reached the ceiling of the room, it and the letter simply...disappeared.
Morgana gestured, and the table was back to normal as if nothing had ever happened. "There. That should do it. I programmed in a bit of a time-spin on the spell, too, so it'll arrive earlier in the day over there. It wouldn't do for the regular mail-carrier in the Other St. Canard to see the letter just appear, after all."
"Well, uh, thanks, really, so glad you could help me out, and if you don't mind, I'll be going now, heh, busy day, gotta get back to it--" Herman was cut short by a machine-gun rifle being pressed firmly against his long beak.
"No, I'm afraid you won't be going ANYwhere..." said Ms. McCawber, gliding up behind him, as Metalladuck blocked the doorway, weapons out. "When I offered you a position in my company...that WASN'T a request." She gestured, and the walls all suddenly sprouted laser canons. "You CAN'T leave here now...you know too much."
Herman gulped and backed away a step from Metalladuck. "Well, in that case...what kind of dental plan does your company offer?"

It was an early April morning in St. Canard--that special time between night and dawn, when the people of the night have gone to bed but the people of the day haven't quite started to wake up yet. The city streets were still mostly clean and quiet, the shining skyscrapers cloaked in pale grey shadows. Winter hadn't quite packed up its bags and left yet, so it was a bit chilly, but otherwise very pleasant.
For most people, that is. The occupant of a small, run-down apartment near the St. Canard docks, however, was in a foul mood and not about to let some wimpy nice morning ruin it. An axe thudded into the opposite wall and stuck there, its handle quivering, as the thrower wandered over to inspect his handiwork. A black-masked duck's face was reflected in the blade. "Hmm, six inches in, not bad," mused Negaduck, looking at how deep the blade had gone into the wall. "Not my best work, but not bad."
He stood up and stretched--but didn't yawn, as he wasn't just waking up; he had been awake all night, as usual. "Man, I gotta think of something really destructive to do today, or else..." snarled the yellow-jacketed supervillian, as he stomped around the apartment, pausing briefly to admire each of the weapons in his impressive arsenal as he did so. "But first, I think I'll go steal some breakfast from that restaurant down the street and hel-LO, what's this?" He bent down to pick up an envelope that had just suddenly appeared on the floor. That's stupid talk, thought Negaduck to himself. Things don't just APPEAR. It must've been slipped under the door sometime during the night. But WHO could know about my latest hideout...? All these thoughts were put on hold, however, as he opened the envelope and began to read the letter inside.

"So, what happened?" asked Gosalyn, tugging on the sleeve of Megavolt's jumpsuit. "Come on, we have time. I'd love to hear your old stories. You guys never talk about your pasts..."
"Maybe it's because we're not that proud of them." said Megavolt, looking out the window rather than meeting Gosalyn's eyes.
Gosalyn just stood there and gave him a big sad "puppy-dog-eyes" look. He ignored it as long as he could, but eventually gave in. "Okay, fine, I'll tell you the story..."
"What story is that?" came a chipper voice from the front door. Megavolt turned around--and groaned. Quackerjack stood in the doorway, holding a box. He's ENTIRELY too cheerful for this early thought the electrified rat, irritably. Morning people should be OUTLAWED. "Well, since you're here, you might as well hear it too," he sighed.
"Oh, I didn't mean to interrupt," said Quackerjack, stepping forwards and tousling Gosalyn's hair with his free hand. "But I was downtown buying some new parts for my latest toy and thought I'd get a box of doughnuts for all of us--well, for all of us who NEED to eat, that is." Megavolt reached into the box and grabbed the one lemon-filled doughnut--his favourite kind. Gosalyn politely waited until the box was offered to her, then took a chocolate one and started to nibble at it in a dainty fashion. "But since you mentioned a story, let's hear it. I always do like a little entertainment with my meals!" Giggling, the jester-duck set the box down on the kitchen counter and turned handsprings over to the living room sofa.
Megavolt leaned against a wall--he preferred to stand rather than sit, most of the time--and began. "Well..."


Elmo Sputterspark barely looked where he was going as he maneuvered his way through the halls of St. Canard High between classes--he was too absorbed in the notes for his latest science experiment. There was a loud THUD behind him, and the long-haired rat boy turned to look, vaguely interested.
"What's the matter, Drake the Dweeb, too chicken to fight back?" sneered the voice of Moe Bernard, one of the school's many bullies, as his cronies flapped their arms and squawked behind him. Drake slid down the locker he had just been slammed into, and slid slowly to the floor.
The hot-tempered young duck leapt to his feet almost immediately, however, and grabbed the lead bully's collar, yanking him down to his own face-level. "Get out of my way," he snarled in a surprisingly deep, gravelly voice, "or else I'll--"
"You'll WHAT, dweeb?" laughed Moe, easily freeing himself. He grabbed Drake by one bell-bottomed leg and hauled him into the air, dangling the small duck boy upside-down in the air. His cronies left off their "chicken" impersonations and burst out into hysterical sniggers.
"Let me down you...you...YOU!!" shrieked Drake, getting angrier and angrier.
"That's enough, Bernard." came a voice behind them, and Moe--still holding Drake in the air--turned around to see the large figure of Hamm String, captain of the football team. Prina Lott, the hall monitor, stood just to the side of him. "Or do you want me to cut you from the team?"
"Er, no sir, Hamm, sir," babbled Moe nervously. Football was the only thing in school the neanderthal-like dog boy was good at and he was hoping to get into college on a sports scholarship, so he couldn't take his chances. "I'll just put him down, now--" he dropped Drake on his head ("Ow!") "and be getting to my next class..."
Hamm reached down to help Drake to his feet. "You all right?" asked Prina, concerned.
"GET your lousy paws offa me!" snarled Drake, picking up his books from where they had scattered as he stood up. "I don't need your condescending looks; I don't need your pity! I KNOW you think the same of me as everybody else here does--'Drake the Dweeb', the biggest loser of St. Canard High! 'It's okay to kick Drake around, he's weak, he won't be able to do anything!' Well SOMEday, someday soon, I'm gonna start kicking BACK! You all just wait and see!" He shook his fist as he stomped away.
"I was just trying to help..." said Hamm, in an injured tone.
Elmo turned back to his notes and continued on his way. Such things were of no interest to him. The weak were always being bullied--it was the way of things. Natural selection, and all that. He, however, had more important matters to think about.
Prina Lott whispered to her boyfriend as Elmo walked by, evidently under the impression that she could not be heard. "He's always scared me, that one. He's so creepy...like some mad scientist from a movie or something."
Hamm String nodded. Everyone had always been a little afraid of Elmo Sputterspark. Technically he was the Science Nerd and should have been fair game for the bullies, too, but...there was just something about him that made people back off. A coldness...no, that wasn't it--more like...disinterest. As if he barely even noticed your existence, and when he did look at you, it was like he was looking down through a microscope--as if he considered other people to be only vaguely interesting as cases to study, nothing more. And then there were the rumours about what he got up into the science lab, after hours...
"Well, let's talk about more cheerful things, Hamm," said the auburn-haired girl nervously, as she and the large pig-boy walked down the hallway together. "Like, when you're going to pick me up for the prom tonight?"

Elmo Sputterspark looked up at the clock as he entered the science lab later that afternoon. 4:00 pm. Good. School had let out a full hour ago, so nobody should be here anymore--he would be able to do his latest experiment in total privacy. It wouldn't do for the public to find out about THIS new breakthrough...at least, not until it was already too late...
As Elmo removed the secret panel in the science lab's floor and started to pull out the exotic equipment needed for the project, he reflected bitterly over the life that had brought him to this point.
Growing up in the Negaverse was hard, even for a normal person. After all, it was not a nice place. Crime was rampant, the police were too scared to do much of anything, and in the schools, bullying wasn't against the rules; it was the way of life. (Or, rather, it technically WAS against the rules, but the teachers were too afraid of the bullies to do anything.)
But Elmo had never been normal. All his life he had been much smarter than the average person, and because of that, a bit...different. Always more interested in whatever invention he was working on than what was going on around him, Sputterspark--derisively called "Sparky" by the few kids who spoke to him at all--had always been seen as a weirdo, a freak, a nerd...and was teased and beaten up accordingly because of it. None of his classmates ever defended him, he had nobody to talk to...because he had no friends. He was too busy with his science projects, and too shy, to have ever gotten around to making any friends. His parents loved him and were supportive of his experiments--they even got him high-tech gadgets for his birthdays sometimes (helped a good bit by the fact that his mother was a physicist at the university and was allowed to take the less-succesful machines home--which Elmo then improved into working ones, of course) but they couldn't protect their little boy all the time...
After being slammed in the head with a baseball bat during gym one day, Elmo came to a decision, as he was lying there in his hospital bed--if his fellow students thought he was a weirdo, then he was going to BE a weirdo. He was going to be the freakiest weirdo they had ever seen!
And so, in 5th grade, he started cultivating an image for himself as a "mad scientist"--giggling weirdly, wearing a lab coat whenever he thought he could get away with it, looking at people in a really creepy way--and it worked, in a way. He still had no friends, was still all alone...but the kids who would have been bullying him backed off. And nobody ever called him "Sparky" anymore. In fact, nobody called him much of anything...
By now, in his senior year of high school, the 17-year-old genius had been playing this role for so long he'd almost FORGOTTEN who he really was. He had practically become the sinister mad scientist he was pretending to be. But inside, the real Elmo Sputterspark was still lonely and hurting. Inside, he still craved the acceptance he could never have--however, he was convinced that he could never have friends; he was just too "different". This made him decide him to go for...REVENGE. If he couldn't have friendship, at least he could have attention.
So, having been driven to the point of desperation...thinking that he had nothing left to lose...the young rat-boy tossed his ponytail over his shoulder and began to assemble the machine that would "show them all".

"Whoah, whoah, whoah, time out!" said Gosalyn, putting her hands together in a "T"-shape. "You mean you used to be a VILLIAN? How awful!" She backed away from Megavolt, towards the kitchen sink. Water began flowing out of the faucet on its own, without her turning the handle...and then formed into the approximate shape of a blue, watery dog, which slid onto the floor. "GAH! Licky, you startled me!" said Gosalyn, leaping backwards.
"Let him finish telling the story, Gosalyn," said the Liquidator in his strange bubbly voice. "After all--inquiring minds want to know!"
Megavolt took his cup of coffee out of the Mr. Java. "YOW! that's strong. Anyway," he continued, making a face as he took another sip, "I wasn't a very nice person back then, no. But all that changed, that fateful day in June..."

Elmo looked around the room at the huge tangle of wires and large items of handmade equipment, satisfied. It was all set up, or nearly so. Soon, he would be able to--the young scientist was distracted by the sound of voices in the corridor outside. Voices? thought Elmo, panicked. Nonono, I can't have people coming in here NOW...!
"Hamm, it's NOT that important," came the unmistakeable whine of Prina Lott, as she and her boyfriend both opened the door of the science lab without knocking. "Let's just go home; the prom's in only a few hours..."
"Hey, it's not my fault practice ran late today," shrugged the large pig boy, as he made his way into the room, stepping carefully to avoid all the wires. "But the team is doing really well lately, you know, and I don't want to discourage them...I'll just get my 'Captain Electron' comic book that I left in here and--" He finally looked up. "Say, what's WITH all this weird stuff, anyway?"
Prina caught sight of Elmo, standing at the back of the room where he hoped he wouldn't be seen. "Sputterspark!" she gasped. "Er, this is...some extra credit assignment you've got set up here..."
Hamm String picked up the comic book that had been left sitting on one of the desks, then absentmindedly put it down again as he looked around the room. "Say, yeah." The jock walked over to the nerd, impressed. "Wow, pretty cool. So, what is it, exactly?"
Elmo considered just brushing them off, but then decided to stay in character. If I'm going to be a mad scientist, why not go for the old melodramatic cliches? "Well, I might as well tell you all the details of my scheme. After all, it's not as if you'll be GOING anywhere." He pushed a button, and the door slammed shut behind the two. He ignored their gasps of alarm and continued.
"All the wires you see here are not my invention--they are merely meant to gather energy for it. They will drain electricity from everywhere within the school, and use it to charge this miniature dynamo. It's powering up now, even as we speak." He pointed to one of the devices on the floor. "Once that's done, I will flip this switch--" he indicated what looked like a perfectly ordinary light-switch, except that it was built low into the wall rather than where a light switch would normally be "--and it will feed the power into this antenna, once I get it in place that is." He pointed to a long, thin metal rod lying on the floor.
"And then what?" said Prina, morbidly curious.
"And THEN, the antenna will broadcast a special pulse all over St. Canard...and everybody currently touching, or near, anything electrical will get the SHOCK of their life! HAHAHAHA!!" Elmo burst out into an insane, high-pitched giggle. "Oh, sorry, that was a bit too cliche. I apologise--it just kind of slipped out."
"WHAT?! But that's terrible!" exclaimed Prina, backing away.
"I can't let you get away with this!" said Hamm String...and then stopped, embarrased. "Geez, did I just SAY that...?" he shook his head. "Never mind. I still have to try to stop you..." and he lunged towards the skinny rat-boy.
"Hey! No! Stop! Get away from me!" shrieked Elmo. He struggled, but--being small and out of shape--he was no match for a 250-pound football player. Hamm looked around for something to tie the desperate science nerd up with...and his eyes lit on one of the many electrical cords strewn about the floor.
"No! You can't! Not with that! The antenna isn't set up yet--the energy will just build up and have nowhere to go! It'll cause a feedback loop!" shrieked Elmo, but Hamm didn't listen as he tied the boy to the nearest handy object--the unattached antenna. "NO! PLEASE!! I'll shut it down, I promise! Just LET ME GO!!"
"I'm sorry, but I can't." Hamm shook his head. Abruptly, the dynamo's engine got much louder, and the noise went up an octave in pitch. "You've gone crazy, Sputterspark. You're just too dangerous. I can't let you go free--you might try something like this again, someday."
"Let's get out of here, Hamm!" quavered Prina, and they both rushed out the door. Luckily for them, Elmo hadn't thought to lock it.
Inside the lab, things were getting stranger and stranger. The dynamo was going at a disturbingly fast rate, and all the pieces of paper from people's assignments started to float through the air...over to Elmo. The posters and charts came down off the walls as well, and soon after, every loose metal object in the room flew over to the metal antenna and stuck to it as well. Then the metal objects that WEREN'T loose--the screws that held the teacher's desk together started to unscrew themselves and flew through the air, as did the thumbtacks that had been holding the posters on the wall...the stapler (which had been INSIDE the teacher's desk)...all the paper clips... Elmo barely managed to duck his head out of the way of the sharper objects, but the others hit him. And stuck.
"Oh, PLEASE, let the school's electrical system run out of power before the dynamo overloads and sends all the power BACK along these wires...let there be a loose wire, a bad connection, a burnt-out fuse somewhere in the system...PLEASE...?" whimpered the frightened young rat to himself. His hair was starting to stand on end, and an unpleasant burning, tingling sensation--as if fire ants were crawling on him--spread all over his body. Sparks started to fly off the dynamo, and soon, over everything in the room, crackling in large, bright arcs from object to object.
I'm going to die. was Elmo's last conscious thought, before the dreaded feedback occurred, completely melting the rubber coating on the wires...and ALL the electricity of St. Canard High surged through him in one enourmous jolt.

"Wow..." said Bushroot, who had come into the room about halfway through this tale. "How did you ever survive that?!" Quackerjack, the Liquidator and Gosalyn were all hanging on Megavolt's every word, too.
"I'm not quite sure I did," said Megavolt, somberly. "After all, the me that woke up after that shock...wasn't the me from before..." He shook his head quickly, trying to clear the cobwebs. "But enough about me for now. Let's iris out to the next scene and let the OTHER main character of this story tell his piece."