A/N: Hello! This is my first Darkwing fic and also my first multi-chapter fic. (Oh yeah, it's special.) Anyway I'll shut up now soon, but first- I do not own Darkwing, he and all others in this story belong to Disney. Yep, it sucks. Now without further delay…
"Let me see here," the massive figure surveyed all that was around him, looking for his next unfortunate target. There were not many structures around this part of town. No matter, he always was up for a little challenge. It had been a while since his hulking figure had preyed upon an unsuspecting citizen of St. Canard, and so today he would be ready to try anything.
He wiped his brow, the sun was a scorcher today, or so it felt to him. He was not allowed in his usual garb during his hunting hours, his superiors would not tolerate that. He did not blame them, what he did was a noble and esteemed job, to him at least. For you see, he did not find his calling to be the bringer of pain and desecration that his victims found it to be. In fact, he was oblivious to their evident pain at his arrival, continuing this near blissful ignorance until his task was carried out. This beast was quite certain of his purpose and the need for people like him. He shifted his the substantial case below his mighty arm with a groan. In the case were the keys to the success of his purpose, his goal, but it was awfully heavy.
Our gargantuan put the case down and sat upon it heavily, continuing to survey the land that laid before him. He turned himself around on his makeshift throne to see a hill, and atop it was a rather large greenhouse. He contemplated it, scratching his head as he did so. It was a stretch, trying to find an appropriate victim in a greenhouse, but it was the only edifice in sight of his gaze. He got up laboriously from his seat, lifted the case up under his arm, and set out to the greenhouse, ready to fulfill his task.
His ponderous footsteps shook the ground as he approached the glass doorway. He peered inside, looking for signs of life. He saw a clock on the wall, Twelve o'clock sharp. As he looked, his eye caught sight of a figure, on the opposite of the green house, looking out the window. He smiled to himself, raised his hand, and knocked.
Dr. Reginald Bushroot, unaware that the ill-placement of his greenhouse was bringing him unsurpassed horror, was busy concocting yet another formula to help his friends in the floral world. Big surprise from the half plant-mutant-botanist, I'm sure. If he got the mixture right, the formula would be able to boost the stamina of the more fragile flowers. He smiled at that prospect to be able to let his friends continue their lives longer and, he thought with a wry grin, if his work load was cut down alongside it he wouldn't mind in the least.
If you get the formula right, he reminded himself as he poured some dangerously bubbling liquid into an even more dangerously steaming topsoil. He held his breath, with no major problem as he really did not need to breathe to live, as he stirred the concoction with a large metal spoon. "One full turn right, then left to reverse the coagulation of the chemicals, quarter-turn, back again, left, right, left, left-no right!" he mumbled his homemade instructions to himself, focused on the task. After a good minute of meticulous stirring he gently placed the bowl that contained his newest creation into a patch of sun that was on the table. Now all he had to do was wait five hours for the formula to settle.
He sighed and glanced at the clock. It was Twelve noon. Five hours, what was he going to do with five whole hours to kill? The Liquidator had already taken care of his plants earlier that day. He smiled when he remembered the kind surprise from the H2O based dog. At the time Bushroot had thought it was great because watering all of his "children" took a lot of time away from his day. Now he wished he did have something productive like that to do. He sighed again and his smile all but vanished. Looking outside, he saw what a nice day it was, even if it was a little on the hot side. Maybe he would take a walk. Spike, his dog-like venus fly trap, would enjoy a walk. His pet had, once again, been shrunk to the size of a dog by one of his experiments, and was also much more energetic than usual.
He got up from the workbench that he had been at during his experiment and stretched. A walk would be nicer with someone to walk with. Someone that can speak, he amended as he glanced at Spike, who was happily chasing butterflies around the begonias. The Liquidator was gone for the day, doing some big heist that he had been planning for a while. Only Heaven (or Hell) could possibly know where the other members of the Fearsome Five were. And may the Lord forbid that he would get desperate enough to even try to contact that ego maniac Darkwing. It was at times like this he wished his friend circle was bigger than Four villains, one ego-centric super hero, and the rest of the plant kingdom. He gazed back outside, I just kinda wish I had someone to talk to right now.
Just as the thought went through Bushroot's mind, a knock came at the greenhouse's door. With a slightly awestruck glance at the Heavens, the flustered botanist hurried to the green house door. Through the glass he saw it was a large, out of shape duck, grinning goofily and trying to get a look into the greenhouse through the door. The duck was wearing a suit, and his tie had an extremely tacky print on it. He had a rather large carrying case underneath one arm, the other arm was being worn out by his -slightly- obnoxious banging on the door.
Knowing that if he didn't answer the door soon he'd have to steal a new one, Bushroot walked up and opened it. For a moment there was silence, Bushroot staring at the large duck, the large duck staring at Bushroot and then,
"Howdy there buddy!" The man reached out one huge hand and grabbed Bushroot's leafy one in a bone, or in this case stem, crushing handshake. The big goofy smile that had been on his face got bigger and, horrifically, goofier as he said, "The name's Herb. Herb Muddlefoot. I'm a salesman for the Quackerware comp'ny and boy do I gots some deals for YOU!"
Bushroot winced at Herb's loud, bumptious voice while his vine-like arm was nearly plucked from his body like a flower from a bush. "Um, w-well you see I really d-don't need any-" he stammered, trying to explain, but was cut off by the oblivious salesman.
"Mind if I come in?" He said as he proceeded to do so, completely ignoring Bushroot's sullen "Yes" as he was pushed passed. The Muddlefoot menace then began to unload the case onto one of Bushroot's lab tables, the one that just happened to have the formula on it.
"Hey! Watch where your putting that stuff!" Bushy shouted and ran over to the container. As gently as he could, he lifted the bowl and set it among some cacti that were in the full heat of the noonday sun, giving them strict orders to keep it safe. He turned to the annoyance, crossed his arms, and looked at him, tapping a root against the dirt floor in aggravation.
Meanwhile, having set up his wares, Herb was taking a chance to look around the greenhouse. "Wow mister! You've got yourself some mighty fine plants here," he looked down at the now fuming Bushroot and his smile dropped slightly, his face taking on a puzzled look to it, "Say now mister, haven't I seen you somewhere before?"
Bushroot blinked in surprise at this. Was this man just figuring out who he was now? He could not believe that anyone could be so dense, it wasn't like he had a face you could forget. Of course this Muddlefoot was proving him wrong. Shaking his head, Bushroot straightened his back, trying to look assertive, and stated with as much malice as he could muster, "I am Bushroot, Dr. Reginald Bushroot! Plant manager, villain, and member of the dreaded Fearsome Five." He smirked, surely that would scare the oaf away.
However, to Bushroot's complete amazement, the salesduck's goofy smile came back into place and he smacked Bushroot heartily on the back, nearly sending him careening into the dirt. Herb laughed his nauseatingly loud laugh, "I knew that I had seen ya from somewhere old Bushy-buddy. Now answer me this. As a super villain you need to keep things in containers sometimes, right?"
The sheer stupidity of the duck in front of him had momentarily struck Bushroot completely dumb. He felt himself numbly nod in confirmation to the question. Herb winked and then dove into a sales pitch.
"Well then have I gots some deals for you," he repeated the same line that he had used at the door and grabbed one of the containers on the table. "Now look at this fine specimen of tupperware," he proceeded to shove it in the plant-duck's face, as if he couldn't see it from a reasonable two feet away, "Guaranteed ta make sure that your leftovers won't leak! A steal as twenty-nine ninety-nine! But wait, there's more!"
"Oh I really hope not." Bushroot groaned as Herb went meticulously over each product, alerting Bushroot of such dire information as the functions of the Loose Cap Three Thousand -'Tha latest in ice cream storage technology'- and the Whiffle Whip -'Tha only whip that'll 'whip' those tough eggs into shape'-. Bushroot was also treated to Herb's reincarnation of what his wife, Binky, had thought about each and every product on the line. Bushroot slowly grew to hate Herb and his 'Binkykins' with a passion. He glanced up at the ceiling again, with a slight sneer. The universe, or who ever was running the show up there sure had a sick sense of humor. He had wanted someone to talk to. Of course this "Herb" was far from what he had in mind.
"OKAY!" Bushroot shouted, cutting off the fat duck in mid-pitch, "I'll buy some of these containers. Okay?"
"Oh boy! Now won't my Binkykins be pleased with that! What did you have in mind Bushy-buddy old pal?" Bushroot pointed at a few things at random, hoping he could get some use out of them at least as flower pots. He watched in agony as the fat mallard totaled up his amount. It came to fifty dollars even. Bushroot winced and reached inside a bag of loot that was almost empty, mourning the loss of fertilizer that the money he was giving away would be able to buy. However, once the fat duck had the money, he showed no signs of leaving. In fact he sat down!
Sighing in contentment from a job well done, Herb started to talk, "Really appreciate it Bushy-buddy you know that all of my sales this year are going into a vacation fund? Oh yeah, I'm hoping to take the little misuses and the kids on a whopper of a relaxer this summer. Summer is really getting close I know, and my funds aren't really there but I think-"
"Um yeah that's great," Bushroot cut off the duck, "but shouldn't you be going now?"
Herb looked at the clock, which was now showing Twelve Twenty-seven, and shrugged, "Oh gnaw! I figure I have some time to spend. Besides I haven't even shown you pictures of my kids yet!" And with that Bushroot was tugged down next to the nuisance and spent the next thirteen minuets looking at pictures of two kids and hearing what had to be the most boring baby stories ever about them. Those thirteen minutes felt like an eternity to poor Bushroot.
At Twelve Forty Bushroot had begun to get desperate. After faking an excuse to get away from Herb, he called Spike and quickly scribbled a message onto a small piece of paper.
I have a big problem at my greenhouse. Please come quickly. I'm at the end of my rope! Help!
After sealing it in a plastic back so that no drool would get on it, he knelt down and put it in Spike's mouth. "Go get this to Liquidator, quickly. He might be the only one that could help me right now," he mumbled to the fly trap. He heard his name being called by Herb from the other side of the greenhouse and hissed, "Hurry."
He watched Spike scurry off for a moment, pushed himself from his kneeling position with a grunt, and headed back to his unwelcome house guest. When he arrived he saw that Herb had been exploring, and now the salesduck was standing next to a medium sized metal box.
Herb had found the T.V.
"Quackerjack give that back to me right NOW!"
There was chaos inside the Fearsome Five's warehouse hideout as an angry Megavolt chased a cackling Quackerjack around the premises. Quackerjack held a light bulb in one hand, the other gripped loosely around the handle of a pogo stick that he was bouncing around on, and was staying out of the furious rat's reach. The rat, Megavolt, was simultaneously screaming, running, and shooting electricity at Quackerjack, trying to get his precious bulb back.
"Give her back! Don't worry Socket I'm coming! Quackerjack you let her go!"
A mischievous gleam came into the already crazy eyes of the demented toymaker. He jumped up onto one of his monster-truck sized teddy bears and looked down at Megavolt with a chuckle, "Let her go?"
Megavolt stopped and warily nodded his head. He was having trouble believing that Quackerjack would come around so quickly.
The toymaker laughed and let the bulb hang upside down, holding onto it with only his thumb and index finger, "Ooooookay! You want me to let her go?"
Megavolt's frazzled brain put together what Quackerjack meant a moment before it happened. "No no no! Wait that's not what I-"
"Going DOOOOOOOOOOWN!" the jester yelled and dropped the bulb.
"No!" Megavolt screamed and dove for his plummeting friend. Unfortunately at that moment the Liquidator had glided into the room, only to see Megavolt lunging at him. Neither of them had anytime to react and they collided, making Megavolt short circuit and the Liquidator to burst into a puddle. The bulb landed harmlessly two feet away on another of Quackerjack's, much more normal sized, teddy bears and rolled to the floor.
Quackerjack himself was in stitches as he looked at the mayhem he had caused. Megavolt got up shakily while the Liquidator pulled himself together, literally. Once the liquid canine had reformed, he spun around to face the dazed rat. His watery eyes were narrowed in distaste. "Nine out of ten physical therapists recommend for an eclectically charged rodent to not run headlong into The Liquidator after he has been defeated by Dripwing Duck on a heist. Not only is it hazardous to your health, the side effects are most unpleasant." He growled in his salesman jargon, advancing on the wet rat.
"It wasn't me it was Quacky! He had Socket and- Wait. Socket!" Megavolt looked around, alarmed. He spotted the light bulb on the floor and quickly snatched it up, holding it protectively against his cheek, soothing it, "Shh it's okay you're not with the mean Quackerjack anymore. No you're not. It's okay."
Cocking an eyebrow the watery dog looked up at the hysterical duck on top of the teddy bear. "Tired of your old routine? Want to get your ass kicked? Then try Quackerjack's handy 'How to piss off your partners in crime' instructional training. Guaranteed to end you up in the hospital, or your sanity back," the canine growled as he began to climb the bear. In a fortunate turn of events for the toymaker, Spike arrived. Knowing his master wanted him to hurry, Spike wasted no time with Megavolt, who was still sitting on the floor comforting his light bulb, and went straight for Liquidator.
The venus fly trap nudged against the canine's watery calf, snapping the Liquidator from his plans of vengeance. His ears perked up in curiosity when he saw the dog-like plant. "Well, if it isn't Spike, Reggie's one of a kind companion, not likely to be available in pet stores near you. What are you doing here?"
As if he could understand the sales jargon, Spike spit down the plastic covered message.
What's this? Liquidator picked up the message and read it. His ears pinned back and a burble of discomfort came from his throat.
From above, the high pitched voice of Mr. Banana Brain piped up, "What's got you out of whack, Jack?" Putting the doll back into his pocket, Quackerjack descended from his perch and snatched the plastic bag away from Licky's watery grasp. Quackerjack gasped dramatically as he read, pulling out Mr. Banana Brain who asked the dog, "What are you going to do, Stu?"
"Do with what?" came Megavolt from the ground, joining reality again. He put the bulb away in a cardboard box before walking over to the two villains. Liquidator, who had pulled the note away from Quackerjack with a growl, said, "It seems that profits are plummeting for our green partner stocks."
"Bushy's out of whack, Mack!" Mr. Banana Brian clarified as Quackerjack nodded in agreement.
"Out of whack?" Megavolt rubbed his head, "Bushroot's in trouble? How?"
"Our current information is too vague. The message was very short. Courteously delivered by the ever efficient venus flytrap mail delivery service! Rain, sleet, or snow, nothing stops this plant." Liquidator quipped as he headed for the door, Spike at his nonexistent heels.
"Where're you going?" Megavolt asked.
"Bushroot's. Where else?"
Grabbing his pogo stick in one hand and Megavolt's wrist in another Quackerjack shouted, "We're coming with you!"
"We are?" asked the still damp rat sliding out of the crazed jester's grip.
"Coming or not, do it fast. Reggie's need for help could be for a limited time only. Act now!" And with that he swirled out the door, Quackerjack and Spike close behind. Megavolt followed mumbling about only coming if he could recharge before they got there.
Master is troubled.
The fat duck is troubling Master.
Should we do anything?
Should we Master?
Bushroot heard the whispers of his children around him. He sighed, which was hard as his lungs were squeezed between the arm of his small sofa and Herb. He really could stand to lose a few pounds. He then directed his thoughts towards the questioning plants, No, don't do anything. He's not so bad. The last thing we want is to hurt him and then to have him go running to the police. I guess this is could be considered home invasion on Herb's part... But who would believe me? Besides, Licky should be here soon.
He looked at the clock, it read Twelve Fifty-five. It was amazing how fifteen minutes with Herb seemed like hours. They had been watching Herb's favorite show 'Pelicans Island'. Supposedly, there was a marathon on and the salesman had made himself comfortable in order to watch all of it. Apparently the thought of huffing from door to door in the heat appealed to the hefty duck much less than watching his favorite show for free. Not to mention Herb had proclaimed that Bushroot looked like he could use, 'Some educational T.V. and comp'ny'. He scoffed silently, if he wanted this kind of education he would've gone to clown college. I wouldn't wish this guy on anyone! Well... maybe Darkwing Dunce but what are the odds that he of all people would ever meet Herb anyway?
Noises at the front of his greenhouse made his hopes soar. Wriggling out from next to Herb, Bushroot excused himself for a minute. He rushed to the front and saw Liquidator standing inside his greenhouse, he hadn't bothered to knock of course, with an anxious look on his face.
"Thank God!" the plant manager shouted and hurried to his partner in crime.
As soon as the Liquidator saw his leafy friend, his look of concern transformed into his trademark cocky, charismatic smile. He ruffled Bushroot's petals, "Dangerous intruder in your home? Not sure what to do? Call the Liquidator! Expert at exterminating pests big or small. Where is it?"
Bushroot smiled, his own worry melting. He gestured behind him where Herb was. The door-to-door salesman was unable to be seen through the heavy foliage but they could hear the sounds of Bushroot's television, "He's at the television. He-" Bushroot began to explain, but the Liquidator had already gone to inspect the problem with a swish. It was then that Bushroot saw that Quackerjack and Megavolt had been standing behind the Liquidator in a fierce argument that had to do with some sort of socket. Bushroot cleared his throat to alert them of his presence. They looked up at him. Mr. Banana Brain was the first to speak.
"What's going on, John?" he asked as Megavolt shot the puppet a look of loathing. He hated Mr. Banana Brain.
"Yeah, what's this all about?" the rat followed up after he had finished giving the doll the evil-eye, "Need anything fried?" His gloved right hand sparked at the idea.
"N-no. No frying required. I just needed Liquidator to help me with something."
"What?" Quackerjack asked, getting in the plant's face, who could only stutter and stumble backward. Meanwhile, Megavolt was looking at the assortment of containers in the table, "What's with the Quackerware?"
Bushroot had just opened his mouth to answer when Liquidator's gurgling laughter reached them. The plant-duck's eyes widened and he dashed to the scene. What he found was not encouraging. A hysterical Liquidator was on the floor while a smiling Herb looked down on him confusedly. "Oh Hey there Bushy-Buddy! This your friend?"
At the sound of 'Bushy-Buddy' the Liquidator was thrown into another fit of laughter. "This was your emergency? He- he- he's a door-to-door salesman."
Bushroot's face began to turn a darker green as he blushed. Behind him he heard Megavolt and Quackerjack sniggering. He crossed his arms and looked at the laughing puddle on the floor, "Finished yet?"
"Okay, okay I- I'm sorry," Liquidator said as he got up, trying to smother his laughter, "Reports show that when you said you had a big problem, The Liquidator thought it was an actual problem."
"Ha ha, I do have a problem," Bushroot said glancing at Herb, the conversation was flying over the oblivious duck's head. "He's my problem."
"You got a problem Bushy-Buddy? What is it?" Herb asked, settling back down on the sofa.
"Yeah Bushy-Buddy," Quackerjack's glee-filled voice piped up, "what's your problem?"
"Maybe he's discovered that he's allergic to tacky clothes," Megavolt chimed in, noting the pattern on Herb's tie. The three villains burst into hysterical laughter again, this time joined by Herb, who was completely unaware of what the joke was about. Gritting his teeth and rolling his eyes, Bushroot walked over a distance and motioned for his three mirthful associates to join him. They walked over, still chuckling, and he tried to explain.
"Look, I know it seems impossible, but I can't get rid of this guy."
"Of course, what use is one scientific college graduate with super powers against the mighty force of an unintelligent salesman." Megavolt said sarcastically, earning him a growl from Liquidator.
"The Door-to-Door salesman is not to be confused with the superiority of the average -or not so average- salesman in question." the Liquidator sated, defending his reputation, "The fine print clearly shows both the minute and extremely great differences to the two. I could get him out of here in a flash."
Bushroot glowered at him, "Then why don't you try it then, you're so smart?"
"I will." The Liquidator sloshed over to where Herb was sitting. Putting on his most convincing smile the Liquidator began, "Hey there! Love to watch T.V.? Tired of the smell of mulch and fertilizer? Then why waste your time here when you can enjoy a full television watching experience from the comfort of your home? Go now! Go today!"
"Well, I don't think my Binkykins would like for me to come home so early." Herb said scratching his head. "She'd want me out working."
"Then what are you doing here? In your business it's all about location, location, location! This is hardly the place to find any new customers."
"Yeah I guess you're right. I'll just go then." To Bushroot's complete astonishment Herb got himself off of the couch and started toward the door. Liquidator had just turned a smug smile towards his leafy friend when Herb stopped.
"Wait a minute!"
Liquidator's smile vanished and he and the three other super villains looked at each other uneasily. Herb turned and looked at the three newcomers with new hope in his eyes. "Hey Bushy-Buddy doya think your friends would be interested in some Quackerware?" Without pausing to hear Bushroot's answer, he went to the table and began, "Well then boys, have I gots some deals for you!" After three minutes of his sales pitch the villains regrouped, whispering.
"Okay, okay so he's a harder customer than I thought. So sue me." Liquidator said defensively to the I-told-you-so look that Bushroot was giving to him.
"Why don't you just tell him to get lost?" Megavolt asked.
Bushroot rolled his eyes, "You don't think I tried that? He either ignored me, thought I was being funny, or it just completely went over his head. He's making my petals droop with stress."
Quackerjack, who had been uncharacteristically quiet throughout the conversation, suddenly chuckled with glee, "This is great!"
"Please enlighten me as to the humor here," Bushroot said, looking at the crazy toymaker incredulously.
"Weeeeeell, what makes everything better?"
"The Super-Powered Energy Saving Light Bulb Polisher Five-Thousand?" Megavolt guessed.
Quackerjack stuck his tongue out at the light bulb obsessed rat and hissed, "Guess again."
"Money?" Liquidator guessed with a shrug.
"Nooooo but close!" Quackerjack teased.
"Just tell them your plan, Stan!" squeaked the voice of Mr. Banana Brain from Quackerjack's pocket. "Fine fine, spoilsport." Quackerjack huffed, but he forgot about his mood when he motioned them closer. After he glanced at Herb, who was lost in the world of his sales pitch, Quackerjack told them, "A game!"
Bushroot slapped a leaf to his beak. "How is a game going to get rid of Herb?" he asked, his panic causing his normally low voice to raise a notch.
"Because, I suggest that we have a little competition to see who can get this guy out of Bushy's house and keep him there!"
"Ah ah ah! As any good enterprising villain will ask. What's in it for me?" the Liquidator piped up, his greedy money loving side kicking in.
"Not only will it be oodles of fun and Bushy here will have one less pest in his house, the winner will get..." Quackerjack thought for a moment, "Aha! The winner gets all of the loot from the losers in the next big heist Negaduck plans!"
The Liquidator's watery eyes seemed to light up, "I'm in."
"Me too I've always wanted to try roasted duck." Megavolt's hand sparked again as he chuckled maniacally.
"Hold it, hold it." Bushroot held up a leafy hand, "Before I go along with this crazy scheme we need some ground rules."
"Aw! Like what?" Quackerjack pouted as Bushroot stated his terms.
"Okay first off, no maiming. The last this I need is for one of us to get rough with him and have him tromp off to call the police."
Quackerjack frowned, and muttered, "No fun." However the Liquidator was ready with a loophole.
"How about accidents? Say this Herb accidentally slips on my puddle like form out the door and breaks his hip, or there is a slight miscalculation on a super bounce ball demonstration? If he gives the O.K. then management cannot be responsible for any subsequent maiming that may follow."
To Quackerjack's great delight Bushroot nodded. "Fine, but it has to be unable to be called anything but an accident. My only other term is no killing the man."
"Oh come on! A roasted duck is just the answer for your problems here!" Megavolt whined.
"No, I'm not having death on my hands again." He thought sadly of the last time murder had crossed his path, "And even if I don't do it personally it's still on my property and therefore I would still be held responsible."
"Fine, fine we agree to all terms." Quackerjack said impatiently. the other two villains nodded as well, devious smiles coming onto their lips. "One more thing, no game is funner than one with a time limit. How long do we have Bush-brain?"
Bushroot looked at the clock, it was five after one "Just about four hours, I have a very delicate experiment to continue after that."
"Oh goody! That gives us each an hour!" Quackerjack squealed, only to be shushed by his team mates, "And it leaves us an extra hour besides."
"What?" Bushroot looked puzzled as he stared at the demented duck.
"Well you've already had your hour so you're done." he said, ignoring the plant-duck's protests and pushed him over. "I'll go first with a time penalty since we ran over with our little chat. Now," he chuckled as the group, minus Bushroot as he was still mumbling angrily on the ground, turned around to face the still oblivious Herb Muddlefoot, "It's Plaaaaytiiiiime!"
A/N: Okay! That's it for now! Good? Bad? Please review to tell me how I can make this better or anything I might have goofed up on or forgotten. Thanks for reading!
:Update: I'd like to thank Irule for pointing out a minor bobble in this chapter that I have now fixed. So... Thank You!