Murder on the TransDimensional Express

I don't own Quiverwing Duck, Darkwing Duck, or any of the AU DWs. They came from the brilliant minds of Tad Stones, Ian Brill, and James Silvani. Disney owns them all. The Deadly Malicia MaCawber belongs to Vaporish, used with permission.

I am the arrow that never misses, I am the hero, who gives crime the shaft, I am QUIVERWING DUCK

Why does every universe we go to have a Starducks?

No I'm serious, I'd like an honest answer…is there some sort of evil TransDimensional Corporation that desires the pan-universal spread of the Double Venti-Half-Calf-Mocha Latté? I'd really like to know.

It wouldn't bug me so much but the Starducks that I was currently standing in was in the OK Canard…the Wild West universe, protected by Sheriff Deathvalley Duck. There was no logical reason for there to be a Starducks here. Nevertheless here we were, waiting, in the OK Canard. The barista, a cute young duck handed out lattés to the various Darkwings sitting in the café. It probably helped that we had all ordered the same thing. Rorschach Darkwing and Darkwing Doubloon sat at the same table that I did. We'd something of a bond, as I had randomly picked them to be my lieutenants, and gotten to know them fairly well.

I'd…sort of…been elected leader very early on in our journey back to our own universes. Frankly, all the Darkwings had wanted to be leader, but Spockwing Duck had made the case that I was the most logical choice, having been the first to break my hypnosis, and rallying the other Darkwings to Darkwing Prime's aid. Ironically, I was one of the few who didn't want to be the leader. I got outvoted.

So I had picked the two Darkwings standing closest to me and told them to meet me in the Engine of the TDX. I made them my lieutenants, in charge of carrying out any orders I felt were necessary. So far, I hadn't had to do much.

Rorschach Darkwing pulled his mask off his beak and popped a few sugar cubes into it. Doubloon starred at the mallard's strange shifting mask…it was like watching a lava lamp.

"I say old boy," Doubloon asked. "How the devil does it do that?"

"Technology courtesy of Ducktor Mouseton," He replied. "A nigh omnipotent being from my own universe."

I took a sip of my latté and looked around at the dozen or so Darkwings simply sitting around in the Starducks.

"Hey Quiverwing," a nearby Darkwing called out to me. I glanced over at him. His outfit was a bit strange; I believe that in his universe he was called "Jumping Quack Flash" instead of Darkwing Duck.

"How much longer do you think it will be before Bowling Ball Darkwing gets the TransDimensional Express up and running?"

"No clue," I said. "Seems he needs a ¾ pinkney flange to get it running again…"

There was a collective groan from the Darkwings in the room. I smirked, this meant that in their worlds—like in my own universe—it was impossible to find a ¾ pinkney flange if you were looking for one. I was about to comment further when I heard a woman's scream and the sound of shots ringing through the air. With a start, all of the Darkwings were on their feet and rushing through the Starduck's tavern doors.


Quiverwing Duck's Universe, Dubbed "Quiververse" by NegaDuck, 7 months earlier; St. Canard Docks: 2:21AM

"What is all this stuff anyway?" Babyface Beagle asked as he placed a crate in the back of the nearby truck. Four Beagle Boys were rapidly unloading crates from a small ship docked by the pier. A large pickup truck was backed onto the pier, and a fifth Beagle was sitting in the driver's seat, fast asleep while the other four unloaded.

"Who knows, who cares," Bigtime said. "We're getting paid handsomely to steal it. Leaving Duckburg was the best decision we ever made. Stupid Gizmoduck, always mucking things up. Here we can commit crimes without having to worry about stupid-super-heroes."

"What about that one guy?" Burger Beagle asked. "That…I can't remember his name, he wore a trench coat."

"Darkwing Duck?" Bigtime laughed. "Ain't nobody seen Darkwing Duck for over a year now. Never been a better time to commit crime in St. Canard."

Suddenly, an arrow struck the ground in front of the three Beagles. Green smoke began pouring out of the shaft.

"I am the Hero, who Strikes in the Night," a mysterious voice said. "I am the Arrow that never misses its Target: I, am QUIVERWING DUCK!"

The smoke cleared away and the three Beagle Brothers stared blankly at the masked mallard standing on top of the pickup truck cab. The duck smirked and pulled back the arrow that had already been placed in the bow. The Beagles had enough presence of mind to attempt to escape when he released the arrow. They weren't fast enough however. The arrow split open into a net and wrapped around Burger and Bigtime. The four ends of the net spun around and tied themselves into a neat knot, trapping the two Beagles.

Bankjob, the remaining Beagle glared at the green-caped duck and lunged at him. He was too fast for Bankjob though, and nimbly flipped through the air and landed behind the large Beagle. As he flew through the air he strung another arrow, by the time he had landed he had already fired. The arrow split into bolas and wrapped around Bankjob, knocking him flat on the ground.

"Who hired you ruffians?" he demanded. The truck suddenly took off, Bugle Beagle having awakened and, realizing what had happened, had begun driving away.

Quiverwing never even hesitated. He fired an arrow at the back of the truck, it struck the tailpipe, and a blast of high-density foam rubber was released, rapidly filling the truck and clogging the engine. There was a loud BANG as the engine backfired and died.

"I said, WHO hired you?" Quiverwing demanded.

"We don't know his name," Bigtime cried out. "Honest, they just call him The Asterion. We don't know his real name."

Quiverwing turned towards Bugle Beagle as he got out of the car.

"I'm letting you go this time," Quiverwing said to the Beagle. "You tell your boss I'm coming for him."

"You kidding, I'm not taking orders from a Robin Hood wannabe," Bugle said as he turned to run. Quiverwing rolled his eyes and fired a bola arrow; it wrapped around Bugle and knocked him to the ground. He turned towards Bankjob.

"Gotcha," Bankjob said nodding his head rapidly in abject terror. "Go tell boss you're coming for him."


Across Town, at the Malicious.

A red haired duck in a black dress downed a martini and smirked. She looked around at her nightclub: it was packed tonight. Business had gone up since the disappearances of Darkwing Duck and the Quiverwing Quack over a year ago. Criminals felt safer without the dynamic duo interfering in their affairs.

She looked over her turnout for the evening, mostly petty thugs from Quackerjack's carnival of crime, but there were some big time names here tonight as well.

She spotted Bushroot and Rhoda Dendron, the dangerous plant duo in the corner, enjoying a candlelight date. Megavolt was sitting at the bar, the battery on his back plugged into a transformer. She even saw Quackerjack himself sitting in a chair near the front. They got all kinds at the Malicious.

The curtains opened to reveal the dancing girls, and there came a whoop from the audience. She snickered to herself, boys were so easy to please, criminals doubly so. Only Bushroot's eyes were on something other than the girls. Well, Bushroot's and Malicia's herself. She was the only one who noticed when a tall cockerel in a black suit with a metal beak walked in flanked by two thugs.

Malicia scowled. She had been having a good night…why did this stupid fowl have to go and…fowl it up.

"Steelbeak," she hissed sliding up to the cockerel. "I told you before you're not welcome here. The girls don't like you."

"Yeah, sure-ting toots," He crooned in his typical smooth-talker voice. "And when I'm a normal patron, feel free to enforce dat rule, but tonight I am here on office-e-al busy-ness."

A chill went up her spine. She knew all too well who Steelbeak worked for, and she didn't want to ever cross him.

"What does Taurus Bulba want with me?" she demanded.

"I do not what you are talking about," Steelbeak said in his most unconvincing tone. "Taurus Bulba is dead. Every-one knows this."

"Don't play games with me you stupid cocky cockerel," Malicia hissed, magical energy gathering around her right hand. Steelbeak smirked. That was one thing he loved about being Taurus' enforcer. His name brought fear to everyone.

"Relax babe," Steelbeak said. "He just wants to inform you that he will be taking 40% of the profits from now on."

"Forty percent!" Malicia hissed. "That's outrageous!"

"If you don't like it," Steelbeak said taking a comb out and using it to straighten his natural comb. "Take it up wit him."

"Okay then I will," She glared at him. Steelbeak jerked in surprise, dropping his comb.

"W-what?" he stammered. He had not been expecting this reaction. "Nobody but nobody sees da big man."

"You just said I could," Malicia said. "So I will. Take me to see him."

"All right toots," he said. "It's your funeral."

Malicia silently followed the cockerel out of her club.

Elsewhere, The Silver Cauldron Restaurant.

"Closing time, Jake," Morgana MaCawber said as she turned the open/close sign around on the door. She waved her hands and cast the simplest of cleaning spells. Broomstick with arms marched out of the closet and began cleaning up after the customers.

"Miss Morgana," Jake said stepping out of the kitchen as removed his apron. "I want to thank you again for hiring me and giving me a chance in your restaurant."

"Think nothing of it Jambalaya Jake," she said. "Everyone deserves a second chance."

"Thank you anyway miss Morgana," Jake said placing his toque on the counter and leaving the back way.

Morgana looked around as the broomsticks finished their work and returned to the closet. Jake was the talent, cooking up Cajun delights for the customers, but she was the hostess, working the tables in her slinky black dress. She opened the safe in the back and put the night's profits in it, and then she casual took her revolver out of the safe and slipped it into her purse. The Silver Cauldron may have been 4 star restaurant, but it was in a very seedy part of town. It was the best she could afford with her own rap sheet.

She locked the door and slipped out into the cold night. She froze, looking around in surprise…she sensed a presence…someone she hadn't felt in a while. She looked around frantically, hoping against hope…but she saw no one. She sighed, knowing it was too good to be true.

She did not see the figure looking down on her from the rooftops above. Quiverwing Duck pulled out an arrow and fired it at the building across the street, creating a zip line to the next building.


"It can't be," Doubloon said. I had to admit it, I couldn't believe what I was seeing either.

I frowned as I looked down, still in absolute shock at what I was seeing. The hot desert sun pounded away, oblivious to what was going on beneath it.

"Looks like we're not going to be leaving anytime soon anyway," Rorschach Darkwing said popping another sugar cube in his mouth. "Even if Bowling Ball gets the train fixed."

"Yes," Sherlock Darkwing said shaking his head. "The evidence is quite clear…Deathvalley Duck has been murdered."