RP: Living on Borrowed Crime

RP: Living on Borrowed Crime

Reserved for: Negaduck and Malicia

Ah, an exceptionally muggy night for an exceptional night of mugging. The week-long heatwave presently holding St. Canard in its soupy grip had rendered the streets vacant of villains and useless crime-fighters alike. They, much like the rest of the city's population, were holed up inside their air-conditioned homes or, as was the case for the less fortunate, crowded inside malls and rec centers across the city to desperately wait out the hot humidity. 

Pah! What a bunch of wimps.

Even after the sun had set, the sticky moisture hung in the air like a fog. This suited Negaduck just fine, and he made a point of that as he strolled up to the warehouse in his several layers of impeccable fashion, not a trace of sweat on his brow. The heat never bothered him anyway. A possible side effect of living in a dimension where global warming had long surpassed an inconvenient truth; it was a way of life. 

Or perhaps it had to do with the present company he kept. 'Kept' being a very loose term in this context, much like the hostess of the house he was currently blowing a hole through. Knocking was also for wimps. 

It was evident by this loud entrance that Negaduck could not care less about whether he was discovered. On the contrary, this was his customary greeting when dropping by to visit Malicia. Well, that and wordlessly sneaking up from behind with a well-prepared quip and a slap to her generously padded posterior. The latter also being a reason why he was so accustomed to what essentially amounted to hip-thrusting into the surface of the sun.

But today was not a booty slapping day (that's on Thursdays). Negaduck had plans that somehow surpassed the size of Malicia's big arse, and that was saying something. And as much as he would've liked to continue internally narrating several more bottom-reaching jokes for another two paragraphs, he had bigger priorities. Yes, even bigger than Mal's-- okay, fine let's get to the point. Quota reached. 

"HEY LARDY GAGA." He shouted up the stairs to where Malicia was no doubt admiring herself at length. "You know you'd have to stand at least 6 miles away from the mirror to get a full view back there, right?"

Okay that one wasn't said narratively and therefore doesn't count. 

    • Negaduck

      Either her immense.. vanity was too predictable, or the camera he had installed in the toilet was getting a good signal, for within her boudoir came a shriek befitting a hundred damned souls, followed by a fireball hurled in his general direction.

      Wherever he landed, a claw hooked under his turtleneck to hoist him the substantial distance to the sizzling eye level of Malicia Macawber.

      "One more large joke out of that monstrous bill and I will RIP THAT TINY PEA BRAIN FROM YOUR HEAD AND EAT IT."

      Dropped like a suit-encased sack of dung, she turned her ladylike and totally not ragebeast attention to face the damage that pilfering little pest had made to her entrance.

      "A stampede of horn covered snicklebacks would cause less havoc in my home than you." A snap of her fingers and a bookcase scampered block over the hole, fortunately not made by a larger mallard. She would have to see to further reinforcement later, perhaps even some bunny-launched decoys. "Do you think my magical reserves are bottomless?"

      A rhetorical question, and one that would do him absolutely no good in answering. 

      • Queen Malicia of St. Canard
        Queen Malicia of St. Canard

        Too bad he was all about the no-good. "I don't think there's any part of you that's bottom-less." Preemptive dodge of the claws that were likely reaching for his neck at that very moment. 

        "But enough foreplay, I've got something that'll make that gaping hole well worth my entrance." He readjusted the hat she had so carelessly tantrumed off his head. "If you ever bothered paying attention to anything outside your own reflection, you'd know the whole city is having a collective heatstroke. Which means every safe and jewelry case in St. Canard is ripe for the picking. Even Dipwing Dunce and his attention-starved ego can't handle the heat."

        "But..." Risking mortal peril now as he slid his hand down the smooth curve of her waist. "I know I can." He purred lowly over her shoulder. "And between the both of us, we'll stuff our hands into every money-stored crevice of the city without breaking a sweat."

        A pause to add as an afterthought. "Not to mention all the excess power consumption shorted out three city blocks, including the Basset Robins Creamery. Pity about all that ice cream going to waste. Hopefully someone will come along to Ammonia Pine the area with their mouth." Yes, let that imagery sink in for a moment. 

        • Negaduck

          That did sound appetising. While the poor populace bathed in their own sweat, she would be bathing in shiny things. Also icecream.

          Malicia knew better, however, than to trust a Negainvitation any more than a sign reading 'FREE DEMON TREATS'. 

          "You've never needed help stuffing your hands into all manner of crevices before." His lecherous roaming tolerated out of curiosity and not because those gravelly invocations of badness made more than Basset Robins Cream. "Why, Negaduck, are you sharing?"

          A cuss word in his books, no doubt, and a new page in Rebarka's if there was any truth to it.

          • Queen Malicia of St. Canard
            Queen Malicia of St. Canard

            No doubts confirmed as he instinctively recoiled at the very notion. "I think you've been huffing one too many souls from that freaky collection of yours." Or at least he assumed that's what she did with them, because that is what he would do. Nothing takes the edge off quite like the spiritual essence of Dead Duckling, amirite?

            "For once in your extensively long life you're actually right, Malicia." He sneered. "I don't need you, never will. So sorry to disappoint." How's that for invocations. "But the two of us can cover more ground and fleece every inch of this city before sunrise. Besides, if I go it all alone you know I'll have to bring along the thermal detonators. And if the blast wave just happened to topple over the buildings housing all of St. Canard's designer shoe stores, well..." He shrugged nonchalantly. 

            "Tell you what, since I'm feeling mighty generous I'll let you keep any extra shiny treasures we come across." Because Hades knows how much of a pain in the ass it is to fence that cheap flashy crap anyway. "Even the rings." That won't fit around those massive hoofs you call hands. 

            His hand was snaking along the length of her tail now. "And if you're a good girl, I'll give you plenty of melted cream to lap up when we're all finished." This final proposal emphasized by his fingers deftly working their way to that special spot at the base of her prehensile appendage. A little flick of the finger here, a bit of applied pressure there... 


            • Negaduck

              Knee him in the Baby Huey and throw him in the Bay. That's what she should have done.

              Yet, for reasons potentially linked to her endless self interest, Malicia turned the proposal over instead.

              "I could use some new-" What did they call it? "Bee-ling. Something truly exquisite for a glamorous, sophisticated lady such as moi."

              The fitting component of that would always be the challenge.

              "But we are not taking that flying eyesore of yours." Yes, its gaudy design and not the sheer deathly terror it instilled in her was the problem. "This time I will be making an entrance befitting this city's finest queen."


              It was atop a converted school bus, atop an equally bus sized heel, covered in metallic spankex and flanked by the furling of a dozen fiery flags that she finally rolled into town.

              What, she had researched this and it was how the interwebs told her queens made their customary appearance these days.       

              "MAKE WAY BITCHES!" Hollered from her Jimmy Choo-Choo chair. "Malicia Macawber in da house!"

              Did that work for an outdoors arrival? Where was that Suburban Dictionary when she needed it. Whatever, she was going to own it. Bring on the shinies!

              • Queen Malicia of St. Canard
                Queen Malicia of St. Canard

                Negaduck had opted to remain a safe distance from the vehicle, partly because he did not trust the demonic diva behind the wheel but also to avoid a severe case of second-hand embarrassment. Malicia knew how to make an entrance, but that didn't make her good at it.  

                Instead, he went with the more tasteful option of a heavy-duty Negatank, complete with snarling duck face on the front emblazoned in his signature red, yellow and black. It lumbered behind slowly, which gave him time to cherish the way in which the treads popped and squished anything that dared wander in his path. The only downside being there weren't many citizens around to flee in terror. 

                "The Bank of Calisota is coming up on our left, I'm gonna blow through the wall so keep your fat arsemobile out of dodge. Or don't. Both options would be satisfying, really." He barked into the two-way radio. The turret swung into position as the Negatank lurched onward. It's blasting time!

                • Negaduck

                  "Not the first time you've exploded over the brickwork prematurely."

                  Malicia's expression switched from cold scoff to exhilaration, however, on spying a well-dressed hare far down the street. 

                  "Oh my gods it's famous designer Ralph Warren!" The hare in question froze mid-step. "Ralph, Ralph darling, come here I have so many things to show yooooooouuuu-"

                  Propelled by her not insubstantial weight shifting in the shoe chair, the bus rolled forward, abandoned as it was by the poor Duber driver who had fled on spying the Negatank. Nobody got paid enough for this, even for a five star rating. In his haste he had, however, left the handbrake off.

                  "EEAAAAAHHHHHH!" screeched the demon as the bus picked up speed down what was an exceptionally steep hill, Mr Warren and curious onlookers diving for their lives. "Negs! HAAALPPP!"

                  Sense of terror overriding logic and common sense, it seemed. 

                  • Queen Malicia of St. Canard
                    Queen Malicia of St. Canard

                    He face-palmed so hard it nearly knocked his hat off his head. "Utterly useless demonic ditz..." His muttering continued as he spun the tank around and pointed the turret skyward. Slamming the big red button (ooohbaby that's the stuff) the large-calibre high-velocity gun sent a guided missile straight for the underpass that Mal was presently barreling toward. It hit its mark, and the tunnel instantly collapsed. 

                    The good news: Mal's descent would be halted in its tracks. The bad news: This was due to the fact the unseemly bus was just passing through the tunnel and was instantly crushed beneath several tonnes of cement. 

                    Totally didn't time it intentionally so that it would decimate the vehicle. Noooope not at all.

                    He swung the tank back around, not even bothering to check whether Mal had clawed her way out of the rubble. She'd been crushed by a lot worse, not to mention she was as durable as a dump truck. For now, the bigger priority (figuratively, because Mal was still crowned for literal) was the bank. 

                    He spun around again and fired off another set of rounds. Ah, pushing the button never gets old.

                    Perhaps, however, he might have been just a tad too trigger-happy. It only took one missile to bring down the wall, but he had sent several more for good measure (and because why not). The entire building came crashing to the ground, sending a surge of dust and debris in all directions.

                    Two cave-ins created in 30 seconds. Not bad, but he could do so much worse. 

                    But now was not the time to challenge his own personal record. St. Canard was known for its exceptionally sturdy vaults and this proved to be the case even now. He could just barely make out the gleam of metal beneath the rubble, where the vault remained intact and waiting to be plundered.

                    "Bwaha! Time to make an early withdrawal I can actually get behind."

                    • Negaduck

                      Speaking of behinds, the rubble pile exploded as Malicia burst forth like a cement and dust covered phoenix.

                      There she let forth a screech that suggested something may have been amputated, but whatever that something was it was not her vocal cords.


                      Flicking away a boulder sized bit of rock to find a bit of broken glass to examine her reflection.

                      "LOOK WHAT'S HAPPENED TO MY HAIR."

                      The downside, aside from the murder of style, was that itty bitty boulder she had flicked with her ladylike strength had been sent right towards her partner in crime. Not a problem. He was about as durable about her, right?

                      The tank, on the hand...