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Passing Down the Torch

#1
Passing Down the Torch
 
Summary: Taking place over a decade - approximately fifteen years - after the events of “There Was No One Left to Speak Out”, Posiwing Duck had always known that death is a common thing, even when it happens, he must move on. Still those who remember the dead will forever carry a part of them.
 
Disclaimer I do not know Darkwing Duck or any Disney characters except my old OCs and a couple of new ones, otherwise I’d be as filthy rich as Scrooge McDuck and swimming in my own private money bin right about now. I certainly could envision the benefits of being a quad-zillionaire, though. Anyhow, this little pet project is a sequel of “There Was No One Left to Speak Out”. Let’s just say that a certain OC vampiress of mine turned to be wrong, but that's fine since not everyone can be right. ;)
 

Somewhere in the city of St. Canard, hiding under the cloak of night, a lone figure moved through the shadows stealthily, unseen, unheard. Her sharp green eyes surveyed her surroundings, watching valiantly for any signs of trouble. Everything is quiet, but she knew this can’t last.
 
She is somewhat uneasy at the moment. This is her first time out on her own. But, somehow, it felt natural to her, being out in the darkness of night. Then the hush of night is shattered by the sound of gunfire. The shots seem to be coming from the next block. The figure moved quickly. She arrived on the scene, still hidden under the cover of night.
 
Outside a the Last National Bank, police officers are exchanging laser fire with somebody held up inside. Police backup arrived, sirens wailing while police cars screeched to a halt. Officers in bulletproof vests and police dogs jumped from the vehicles, fully armed. The laws show of force is greeted with a small black marble ball tossed from a shattered window of the store. "Incoming!" One of the authorities shouted desperately to his companions. The police officers can only run to evade the violent explosion that followed. Large chunks of debris from exploding police cruisers rain down upon the city streets causing massive destruction. In the chaos, nobody noticed a lone caped figure stalking around the back of the building.
 
Inside the store, standing amidst the broken glass and rubble, a large figure watched through the broken windows, with great amusement, as St. Canard’s finest are helpless to stop him. He was a massive jaguar with muscles that made his triple extra-large clothes seemed painted, hulk of a man. He had shoulder length onyx black hair with a matching mutton chop, right green eye, and was wearing a pair of brown boots, desert cammo pants, a black t-shirt, a bandolier of bullets strapped around his chest, and a desert cammo jacket. He had a scar running from his left eyebrow to his cheek and a ebony eyepatch covering his eye. He stood laughing in the room for a while, then caressed the contents of his opened sack, which have been money, gold, jewelry, etc that stood behind him. It’s quite apparent that these are the spoils from his earlier plunders that night.
 
“Buffoons!” He taunted in his deep, menacing voice, “Do you losers really think you’re a match for Major Demolition? Ha, in your dreams. Not even SHUSH’s agents could defeat me!” He touched every piece in the bag more than once, sometimes looking down with guilty pleasure, other times with deep satisfaction, but most often laughing maniacally. Looking at a gold and diamond-encrusted pocket watch, he paused in his jubilation and frowned. “Tch, this is almost too easy nowadays,” He grumbled bitterly to himself. “I was actually expecting better opposition, but I suppose that’s what happens when this city's last hero has kicked the bucket two decades ago. I was hoping to bring out the heavy artillery.”
 
“Major Demolition?” A voice echoed from the darkness.
 
Major Demolition startled. Picking up the pocket-watch again, he hastily tucked it into his jacket. He pulled out a black bazooka with a red trim as he spun around, looking for the owner of the voice. “Who’s there!” The jaguar demanded harshly. “Come out where I can see you!” There was no answer. Major Demolition is growing nervous with each passing second. “I said, ‘who’s there?’ Don't make me repeat myself thrice!" He screamed again, his clawed finger tightening the trigger of his plasma cannon.
 
Silence… for a long moment he is answered with only silence, then… “you are Major Demolition, the most wanted terrorist in Calisota?” Came the voice from the shadows, in a questioning tone.
 
“Yeah, what of it? Stop cowering in the shadows and meet your marker!” Major Demolition retorted anxiously. He felt like the prey being stalked by an unseen predator. It’s usually not a feeling that the anarchist's accustomed to.
 
A silhouette moved in the shadows of the unlit room. Without hesitation, Major Demolition fired cylinders of red plasma, repeatedly. When he ceases fire, he’s sure he’s hit his target. He’s wrong. He felt a hand tapping his shoulder from behind. Major Demolition jumped in surprise and spun around. In the glow of the moonlight that shone through the shattered windows he can vaguely make out the form of a lone mallard that had a distinctively feminine shape, slender waist, a short beak, and was dressed in contrasting shades of blue with a white cape with blue lining, a wide brimmed ivory fedora on her head, cyan double breasted over a lavender turtleneck with a matching cloth strip mask, and steel-toed boots. She had long black hair with white streaks in it, which was braided into a ponytail dangling from out underneath her hat and surprisingly, she was rather slim being at 5’7. There is something strangely familiar about this girl, but Major Demolition can’t quite put his finger on it… at first.
 
Through the moonlight, the answer is staring back at him, that outfit and those sharp ice-cold green eyes glaring at him in defiance. Major Demolition knew this person all too well, but it’s impossible! “What?! N-no, that's not possible! You… you’re not… you’re not him! He’s dead! You can’t be…”
 
“You’re right for once, I can’t,” the figure agreed as she landed a spinning kick to Major Demolition’s forehead, knocking him backwards by a few feet.
 
The jaguar’s jaw dropped; his eyes filled with disbelief as his enemy slowly advanced towards him. “No, this can’t be happening! You’re not real! You’re not real!” Major Demolition screamed, his eyes glinting with madness. He hurled a marble-sized grenade at the figure, who deftly moved out of the explosion's radius just in time.
 
“You can deny it all you want, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m bringing you down. This night will end when you’re placed behind bars… or a straitjacket in a padded cell at Duckham Asylum,” The blue-clad mallard proclaimed as she pulled out her own equivalent of a gas gun, only this one matched the color scheme of her outfit perfectly. She fired a bolt of cobalt energy at the anarchist, who dodged it at the last possible second.
 
“I don’t know how you came back from the grave, but there’s no way in hell that you're going to prevent me from taking down this corrupted system,” Major Demolition growled threateningly, his single eye blazing with contempt.
 
The blue-clad mallard blinked several times. “Corrupted system?” She repeated, scratching the back of her neck in confusion. “Seriously, I've no idea what you’re blathering on about,” She came up to Major Demolition and launched a punch directly underneath the villain's chin.
 
The jaguar stumbled back from the force of the blow. “You don’t see that news leading to us about the world and that corruption is feeding us communist propaganda!” He growled, wiping some blood from his lips with the back of his hand. “I sacrificed the best fifteen years of my life by fighting in the Middle East for this country only to realize that I’ve been stabbed in the back when I was dishonorably discharged by my superiors for being a ‘loose cannon’ and disobeying their orders! Well, they’re dead wrong! It’s their fault that got my brigade killed, not me! This entire city’s infected with a disease and the best treatment for it is to cleanse it with fire so it can be reforged from the ashes like a phoenix! You, the police, the politicians, and the rest of St. Canard must be destroyed so the city can be reborn!” Major Demolition ranted as he fired his weapon repeatedly, and the caped duckette barely dodged the several streams of scarlet energy.
 
“I can see that your psychological profile wasn’t exaggerating Major, because that might be the craziest thing I ever heard! It’s definitely the looney bin for you,” The blue-clad mallard commented as the anarchist redirected his aim and pulled the trigger repeatedly in a blind fury. He watched with surprise as the woman effortlessly backflipped several times, dodging each particle beam with dramatic flair. But with every attempt Major Demolition had made, his opponent kept dodging the scarlet blasts, determined to avoid his enemy’s attacks until his plasma cannon began to click rather than fire. The weapon’s energy cells have been depleted. He frantically reached to his belt to retrieve his marble-sized grenades, but it was too late.
 
Not paying as much attention as he should have, Major Demolition gave the heroic mallard an opening for a flying kick. Bringing his plasma cannon in front of him to block the blow, he was startled when his opponent vanished entirely from sight right before impact. “What the-?” He exclaimed incredulously. “Where did she-?” Looking around wildly, he was unprepared for the hard blow to the back of his head. His opponent had used a low-level teleportation spell to get behind him and land the final blow. The villain froze for a moment, then he smiled drunkenly and groaned wearily, "Rubber baby buggy bumpers..." Weakened from his enemy’s blows, Major Demolition's eyes rolled upward before he collapsed forward unconscious, the jaguar's bulky body hitting the floor with a heavy *thud!*. Just like that, the battle was over.
 
Within the next few moments, Major Demolition's snoring deeply as he was tied up on the floor of the Jewelry Store for the police to find. The stolen bag of money, gold, and jewelry was lying right next to the fallen villain. The mysterious heroine is gone.

 
An hour later, in a vacant park on the edge of the city, we found our twenty-year-old heroine now sitting quietly at the base of a monument that stood in the center of the park. She had made a quick stop at the safehouse that the government had provided her - which looked like a converted warehouse – so she could changed into fresh set of clothes. Her hair ran past her shoulders, and has one blue hairpin on the right side of her head. She wore purple lipstick on her petite bill, red oval-shaped glasses, bracelets on both of her wrists, a black tank top with a checkered pattern, a black mini-skirt, a pair of large boots that went up her calves, and a red scarf intended to protect her face from the chilly breeze. While Major Demolition was dressed for war, she didn’t. But then, she preferred fashion over function.
 
She didn’t considered the events that had taken place earlier that day. She felt fatigued now, and this concerned her. She will need to get some much needed sleep soon and with sleep came the dreams. The dreams of a past and a life that are not her own.
 
She recalled every dream so vividly, although they were a little hazy most of the time. She dreamt of battles she never fought, people she’s never met. She knew secrets that were never passed down to her. All this she saw through the eyes of another, one who no longer walked among land of the living. She recalled that he was a vigilant like her, thwarting a crime here or there. Even the memories of his confrontations with the notorious mercenary Ghost Hunter, his deceased diabolical double Negawing Duck, and Major Demolition from the earliest period of his criminal record, whom she herself had never met until that night. Yet, somehow, she knew the anarchist all too well.
 
More over, she saw an entire life, that is not her own, passing before her eyes in a fleeting moment. And at the end of that moment, she caught a glimpse of a utopia that awaited on the other side of Heaven... with turquoise waterfalls, and grassland as far as the eye could see. Farther, she saw mountains covered in snow. This was his fantasy, the place that he always wished existed. It was an enrapturing paradise. Her thoughts were interrupted by the whirring sound of an armored jeep hovering above the parking lot and landing fifteen feet behind her. The motor hushed, soon she heard a door opening and shutting. She never bothered to look back as the sound of scraping footsteps leaving the pavement to tread upon the soft grass, moving towards her. Soon, the footsteps stop only a few feet away from the black-clad woman. She gazed into the darkness, nonchalantly. “Hello Director Phosphorus,” she greeted in a timid tone. Only now did she lifted her eyes to look at an elderly cougar towering above her. He was sporting a high-ranking military black outfit and had a graying crew cut.
 
“Greetings Agent Delilah, we monitored your performance at the Jewelry Store.” He beamed proudly down at her. “Bringing down Major Demolition single-handedly was an impressive feat, considering that he’s at the top of our most wanted list.”
 
“Thank you very much, sir. I hardly used my magic and martial arts to take him down, although I’ve still got much to learn when it comes to sorcery and crimefighting since it’s apparent that I require more training,” the young woman bowed respectfully, trying to look polite.
 
The elderly cougar smiled understandingly. “That’s fine. You’ve shown great potential tonight, Delilah. You’ll be a great hero someday.”
 
“But I can never be him or Darkwing. You know that don’t you, sir?” Delilah sighed, softly motioning toward the statue.
 
Director Phosphorus gazed fondly up at the marble statue that was mounted upon the monument. “When Darkwing Duck tragically died in the final showdown against Necrowing, only then did the government realized how much we needed him. Then eleven years later, his successor - Posiwing Duck – perished after taking down the entire branch of Neo F.O.W.L. With Darkwing’s team long dead and gone, Morgana Macawber and Sonia Zimmerman disappeared without a trace, we needed a savior so badly that SHUSH attempted to create one… hence the name “Project Genesis”. By using a few feathers from the original Posiwing Duck that we extracted several months after his death, our top geneticists were able to grow those genetic materials into a full-bodied organism, thus creating you.
 
We were unable to retrieve any DNA samples from Darkwing, which is why we chosen your progenitor as we hoped you’d be an exact replica of his descendant. We foolishly thought we could, in a sense, bring at least one of those Masked Mallards back from the grave even if the cultivation process took decades. But now we know that can never be as it turns out that our cloning technology’s has many flaws.” He sighed, sorrow rising in his voice. “They’re gone… forever.” The SHUSH Director drew a ragged breath. “You are what you are, my girl, and you’ll continue to progress with the right amount of rigorous regimen. You have Posiwing’s DNA, Morgana Macawber’s and Darkwing’s, and it has served you well… all you can do is your best.”
 
“I’ll always try my best, Director Phosphorus…” She said, closing her eyes and bowing in respect once more.
 
“I know you will, my daughter, I know you will.” He smiled confidently, patting Delilah on the shoulder. “C’mon, let’s get back to the regional headquarters before somebody sees us. Heck, I’ll even treat you with rocky road ice cream on the way there since I know it’s your favorite. You still have much training ahead of you before you’re ready then we’ll assign you with a new codename, which we both know is for the best. It’s a good thing that the police wouldn’t believe Major Demolition as he will without a doubt be soon spouting tall tales of your progenitor’s ghost haunting the city since there are no such things. There’s a good chance that nutcase will probably be carted off to Duckham Asylum for a good portion of his life instead of prison. I know I won’t lose any sleep over it, that’s for sure, as it means it's one less megalomaniac causing troubles and a lot of citizens will be sleeping better tonight."
 
The elderly cougar winked knowingly before he turned and started towards the hover-craft. The young mallard smirked, shaking her head in amusement and standing to her feet. She looked up at the statue thoughtfully. She studied the carved granite figure of a duck in a purple, pink and gray costume and mask, complete with cape and fedora. She lowered her gaze to the inscription etched in the pedestal. She could not read the words in the darkness, no matter she knew them by heart: “In Honor of Darkwing Duck, Launchpad McQuack, Quiverwing Quack, Magnesium Mallard, and Posiwing Duck. St. Canard’s True Heroes. We will never forget you and your team, the Terrors That Flaps In The Night.” Delilah swallowed hard, feeling a lump rising in the back of her throat. She carried more than just Posiwing’s DNA with her. She carried his memories, even unto death and beyond. The torch has been passed down to her, and soon a new Masked Mallard with a different name will rise to defend St. Canard from threats like Ghost Hunter, Major Demolition, and many others that might threaten her beloved city in the foreseeable future.
 
Delilah recalled Posiwing’s final moments in this life after he took down Neo F.O.W.L. with everything he had, despite the fact he was at a great disadvantage when his arsenal malfunctioned. Inside Neo F.O.W.L.'s central command, bodies of Eggmen, Agents and the Dark Legion - General Marcus, Kleiser, Caibon, Timsu and Beelo - lay strewn about as they were either unconscious or in great pain. Posiwing himself was sitting on the floor with his back against the wall, having sustaining internal bleeding and severe injuries from the brutal battle against the Dark Legion supervillain mercenaries. Despite being heavily battered and his body broken, the young man wasn’t afraid in the slightest. Ever since he first donned the cape and mask he knew of the risks that came with the job that he signed up for. He had always known that death is a common thing, even when it happens, life must move on. Still those who remember the dead will forever carry a part of them. However, he felt concerned for the loved ones he leaves behind. Mostly of his family, his wife Bianca, his daughters and son, and hoping that they will find happiness in their lives, ones they will have to live without him. But in that fleeting moment as Posiwing crossed over into the afterlife, he had one last plea from the heart, “Please, don’t forget me.”
 
“Wherever you are right now Darkwing and Posiwing Ducks, I hope that you can see this and I hope you know… you both and the rest of our family are remembered and your legacy will live forever. I swear I will do whatever it takes to defend St. Canard.” She vowed, a determined look resting on her features.

 
The End
"You want to know something funny? Even after everything you've done... I would have saved you." - Batman

"That actually is... pretty funny.""- Joker
(Batman to Joker before the latter's death in Arkham City video game, 2011)
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Passing Down the Torch - by Ghost Cat - 04-12-2020, 07:54 AM

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