RP: Deep Fry Her

[[Continued from Angel's message board.]]

The sliding door was slid shut with a slam. Away from prying police eyes, Negaduck tossed Angel and her new devastatingly deadly accessory aside to check on the Negavat's progress through a side window. 

Fifteen or so minutes, he assessed, before he had enough lard to take out the crowd of controllers outside. More than that, the more of the city he would crisp. 

Easy. The cops would take fifteen minutes simply going through the paperwork process necessary to start Supervillain Action Plan Sierra. 

"Looks like the only waiting you'll be doing today is sitting here, not trying anything, and waiting not to die."

No hint of flirting there. That was an order. More than that, a threat. 

She had been right. He was trouble. Big trouble. 

    • Angel McDrake
      Angel McDrake

      Angel landed on the floor with a thud and glared up at Negaduck, fighting back the urge to say some harsh words she knew were unwise to say at this moment. Jeez, what have I got myself into now?, she thought. Her plans for the day sure hadn't included being taken hostage by the psycho known as Negaduck. She had heard all about the chaos and mayhem he caused. The big question was, how was she going to get out of this mess? And who was going to save the city from being deep-fried?

      • Quiverwing Duck
        Quiverwing Duck

        "You know... my first thought was that someone was trying to promote the overall health of the city by removing its saturated fats." The disembodied voice sounded like a smoother and much less brutal Negaduck, but the words were certainly not coming out of the masked mallard of mayhem's mouth. It was unclear where the words were coming from. Sort of 'up-ish', if one had to guess. "I should've known. This is the obligatory request that you please release your hostage and surrender, Negaduck."

        • Angel McDrake
          Angel McDrake

          Angel looked up at the sound of the voice, trying to ascertain where it was coming from and who was speaking. It had to be one of St. Canard's or Duckburg's heros, she thought, but who? She knew about the local heros from the TV and newspapers: Darkwing Duck, Quiverwing Duck, even Gizmoduck fought villians in St. Canard. She thought she recognized the voice from a news report on TV: could it be? Quiverwing?

          • Negaduck
            Negaduck

            It wasn't merely the voice that gave it away. It was the mystique, the chivalry, and most of all the lack of cheesy smoke filled introductions.

            "Have you taken over Darkwing's beat entirely now, Quiverwing?" he addressed the up-ish vicinity. "Man, I bet he's pissy about that."

            So that was a no to the request. Being - for want of a more impolite word - indiscriminating, however, Negaduck was not about to get picky in who he punched into a bloody pulp. Share the love, as they say, the they having never met him in a dark alley.

            To Angel, he said, "Change of plan, toots - how about you rustle us up a couple of coffees. Black. Got to give our guest a nice, warm welcome."

            You know, before the pulping.

            • Quiverwing Duck
              Quiverwing Duck

              "Not entirely, no. But you're correct about his disapproving attitude regarding it." Quiverwing Duck, because that had to be who this was, sounded faintly amused. If there was a single thing the masked mallards had in common, it was 'being annoying to Darkwing Duck', albeit to very different degrees.

              The source of the voice seemed to have shifted slightly, as if he were having a look around in the ... whatever he was in. Air vent? Ceiling? "You don't have to go to any trouble on my behalf, miss. Oh... about that," his disembodied voice said, as if he had only now remembered something he'd wanted to address. "Couldn't you at least do the hostage release part? I could swap places with her, I don't mind."

              • Angel McDrake
                Angel McDrake

                Angel, for her part, rolled her eyes at Negaduck's coffee request. "Seriously?", she said in an annoyed tone, "You gotta be kidding. For our mystery friend, I'll happily make coffee. But for you? Sorry, but you can make your own!"

                • Negaduck
                  Negaduck

                  A hand shot out to seize Angel. Painfully hard. Any smooth talking sultriness abandoned like so many social media platforms.

                  "Useless!" Negaduck snarled. "And believe me, doll face, in this scenario you do not want to be useless to me."

                  There were other uses for a hostage, and not all of them required leaving her in one piece.

                  His non-throttling hand, meanwhile, thumped strategically down on the corner of a percolator plate, launching the boiling hot container and all its contents on a vector he calculated it would most likely intercept their mystery friend.

                  He was a mallard of many talents, most of them unfortunate, and reading caped crimefighters was one of them. At least, when it came to Darkwing.

                  "You think I'd trade that mug for hers?" Handsome as he might be, there would be no comparison for comeliness, particularly once Negaduck was done with him. "Hah! You want her, come and take her!"

                  No swappsies, not after how that went last time.

                  • Quiverwing Duck
                    Quiverwing Duck

                    As an example, one use for a hostage was to threaten them in a manner that would draw out the person who was trying to rescue that hostage. When Negaduck roughly grabbed at Angel, the lights in the diner flickered for a moment, as if the building itself were giving Negaduck a disapproving look.

                    Negaduck's calculations were on point. A figure appeared in roughly the area he had aimed for, and while it was unclear as to where it had come from, 'the ceiling?' was a pretty solid guess. Quiverwing Duck was already dropping when he noticed that he was on a collision course with a catapulted coffee carafe, and that was a problem because the ability to dodge in mid-air was a limited one if you couldn't fly.

                    Quiverwing interrupted the burgeoning billow of his green cape by grabbing at the edge of it, and sweeping his arm up before him so that the fabric shielded him just as the carafe struck him. His arm continued its somewhat circular motion in a flourish that made the half captured container roll along the outside of his cape as its contents began to splash out.

                    The coffee pot smashed somewhere behind the masked archer, just as he landed boots-first on one of the short divider walls that partitioned off the booths. Much of the coffee had streamed off of Quiverwing's cloak much like water off a duck's back, but it left him steaming. Not in the sense of being angry, although he was that, too, but there was literal steam rising from his cape as it finished its dramatic billow behind him.

                    Quiverwing Duck was giving Negaduck a reproachful glower for so many reasons, but when he looked to Angel, his expression was one of concern as he politely tipped his hat to her. The glance lingered for a moment on her explosive girdle, something that had kept him from immediately pressing his attack, in case Negaduck was poised to press a detonator.

                    • Angel McDrake
                      Angel McDrake

                      Angel was thankful to see that it was in fact, Quiverwing Duck, gave him a relieved smile. She wasn't sure how, but she was sure he'd figure out a way to end this situation and save St. Canard. Right now though, what she was really wished she could do was smash one of those carafes over Negaduck's skull, but she knew that wouldn't go over well.

                      • Negaduck
                        Negaduck

                        "Daaaw, don't look at me like that."

                        Mostly because it's too hilarious. Seriously, A+ for entertainment.

                        "I'm just warming you up."

                        The key word being a cue to launch - what else did they have in a diner kitchen? Oo, a rack of very sharp knives - right at Quiverwing, from the biggest butcher blade to the nastiest paring knife. 

                        There was enough of them he even attempted to pull lead, hot dang.

                        Just when the barrage was over, or when Quiverwing might have thought it was, Negaduck followed up with a couple of uncooked eggs. To add egg-sult to injury.

                        • Quiverwing Duck
                          Quiverwing Duck

                          Dodging a single projectile, or even two, was not difficult for Quiverwing Duck. However, more projectiles meant an exponential increase in difficulty, especially when they were being launched in clusters. He was pretty good at that kind of thing, but even he had his limits.

                          The end result was something like a cross between a knife thrower's target board at the end of a demonstration, and a chalk outline of a victim at a crime scene. Quiverwing was outlined against the wall by a series of sharp implements, but in a somewhat contorted manner to avoid getting terminally perforated. The butcher's knife in particular very nearly got too personal.

                          With some areas of his costume essentially nailed to the wall, the masked archer could not avoid the eggs. Getting one yolk per eye was a clammy experience, but there were worse things to get hit with. Like butcher's knives. Leaving his cape pinned where it was, Quiverwing dropped to the floor and swept his index fingers over his eyes to clear them.

                          "I'd be annoyed if eggs weren't such a beneficial conditioner for hair and feathers. However, I still cannot forgive you for wasting a whole pot of perfectly adequate coffee as you did." Quiverwing seemed almost friendly, but he grabbed the handle of the largest knife and pulled it from the wall. He smiled in that way he had, when he was mildly cheerful and, from the way he was now stalking towards Negaduck, about to literally kill a guy.

                          • Angel McDrake
                            Angel McDrake

                            Angel couldn't believe what she just witnessed Negaduck do to Quiverwing. Throwing knives at someone? Wow, this Negsy really IS a psycho, she thought. And the eggs, really? She was really starting to rethink the smashing a carafe over Negaduck's head thing, if only to help Quiverwing. But that would likely get her killed, given what she'd seen with Negaduck.

                            • Negaduck
                              Negaduck

                              Who was he kidding? Like a guy in tights could look intimidating. 

                              It was purely a matter of expedency that sent Negaduck ducking behind his hostage, that was all.

                              Even with Angel between them, Psychowing was drawing uncomfortably close, when a sound rang out from the back.

                              The Negafryer was ready.

                              "Saved by the beep."

                              With no need to be stuck on the spot any longer, Negaduck hit a button on his victim's explosive belt, and practically threw her at the incoming hero.

                              "Too bad we can't say the same about you!"

                              Indeed, much more beeping of the ominous kind was enemating from Angel's midsection, indicating an explosion was imminent. And, of course, he had superglued it to the poor girl, just for that extra level of annoyance.

                              While Quiverwing had his hands full, he would be powering up the superweapon and making short, crunchy work of the police. Bonus being that this dogooder didn't have any sidekicks to get in the way at the last moment.

                              Ammendum: this dogooder didn't have a sidekick any more. Bahaha.

                              • Angel McDrake
                                Angel McDrake

                                Oh crud, not good, not good, thought Angel, realizing the button on the belt had been pushed. "Quiverwing, help!", she screamed, trying desperately to pry the belt off.

                                • Quiverwing Duck
                                  Quiverwing Duck

                                  Lulling Negaduck into the big sleep would have to wait until later. Quiverwing caught Angel when she was shoved at him, mindfully holding the knife aside so she wouldn't be accidentally impaled.

                                  "You lousy--" Quiverwing bit down on the imprecations he was ready to hurl at Negaduck, briefly considered hurling the knife at Negaduck, then focused on the more important matter which was to avoid having Angel explode. As someone who regularly worked with explosives, Quiverwing was no stranger to disarming bombs. Ideally, you ensured no civilians were nearby when tackling that task, but when the bomb is glued to the civilian your options become limited.

                                  "Miss, I am very sorry for this and I hope you'll consider forgiving me if we survive." Quiverwing sounded sincerely apologetic as he grabbed the girdle of C4 and brought up the knife in his other hand. Quickly but adroitly he slashed at Angel's blouse, politely attempting to leave as much of her clothing as intact as possible to protect her modesty.

                                  In a singular, sweeping motion, Quiverwing suddenly whipped the explosive belt and attached bits of fabric off of Angel and flung it as far across the diner as possible. Without waiting for it to land, he scooped up the young woman and dived behind the closest counter for what cover it could provide, shielding her with his body in what was appropriate and expected hero behavior.

                                  • Negaduck
                                    Negaduck

                                    BOOM.

                                    Or more accurately, SPLORT.

                                    Ground zero looked like a multiple fatality, or someone opening an elevator in a horror movie. 

                                    Thick, red ooze covered the walls, ceiling and dripped off the counters. Worse though was the smell. Sweet.

                                    It was sauce. Ketchup, to be precise.

                                    What? Holed up in a diner, criminal geniuses are going to improvise.

                                    Besides, going off past experience, the staining to his wardrobe would be far more annoying to Quiverwing than severe shrapnel damage.

                                    Meanwhile, Negaduck was already half way down the street, cackling atop his giant deep fryer / high pressure hose machine, turning the squad cars outside into hashbrowns.

                                    "What'd you know, time fries when you're having fun! BAHAHA."

                                    Fun indeed.

                                    • Angel McDrake
                                      Angel McDrake

                                      Angel winced at the explosion, and was stunned by all the ketchup everywhere. "That was too close for comfort!", she said. She breathed a sigh of relief that she hadn't been blown to bits. Thank goodness Quiverwing was here, she thought, he really is amazing. She saw her coat lying on the ground nearby, and quickly grabbed it to cover herself. But what was going to be done about Negaduck and his deep fryer, she wondered?

                                      • Quiverwing Duck
                                        Quiverwing Duck

                                        Quiverwing Duck averted his eyes while Angel got her coat and covered up. It was easy, though, since there was a lot of other stuff to look at. A lot of ketchup to look at, if looking at ketchup was your idea of a good time. It wasn't Quiverwing's idea of a good time.

                                        "He really has a sick mind," the masked archer remarked. He shook off spatters of ketchup, although the stuff was never easy to get rid of, and he looked like a victim of multiple stab wounds without the perforations. His cape, which was still pinned to the wall by knives, was a lot less fortunate and almost completely concealed by ketchup as if it were cafeteria meatloaf. Quiverwing glowered at the sight of that; no amount of dry cleaning was going to rescue it.

                                        "I hope you're not hurt, miss." Quiverwing turned to Angel. "Please pardon me for a moment, I need to thwart Negaduck. You might want to stay in here, in case what I try has... some kind of 'splash radius'." He tipped his hat to her and hurried out through the front door.

                                        As he walked onto the road between police vehicles that were a crispy golden brown, Quiverwing took his bow in one hand and drew an arrow from his quiver with the other. There was a subtle 'scrit' sound as he did this, like the surreptitious striking of a match. On the end of the arrow was a small stick of dynamite, the fuse already crackling and burning down. He nocked it, aimed, and fired at Negaduck's vehicular vat of oleaginous doom.

                                        • Angel McDrake
                                          Angel McDrake

                                          "I'm alright Quiverwing, and thank you so much", Angel called out to Quiverwing as he raced off after Negaduck. Wow, he really is amazing, Angel thought as she watched him leave. She looked around at the mess of ketchup everywhere. Man, Jim is going to throw a fit if he sees this, she thought, thinking of her boss and how he'd react if he saw the ketchup disaster zone that was his diner. She went over to the window to watch what was going down outside with Quiverwing and Negaduck. 

                                          • Negaduck
                                            Negaduck

                                            The sudden plugging sound caught the attention of the maniac at the controls, and he whipped around to view what was happening from the glass dome cockpit.

                                            And laugh.

                                            "That's your best shot? Fry me a river! That's triple-coated heat resistant plating! Don't you think I'd make sure an enormous vat of flammable liquid was fire-"

                                            BOOM!

                                            "-Proof?"

                                            Fireproof it might have been, but whatever was on that arrow packed enough of a punch to cause the smallest sliver of a crack in the container's surface. Under pressure, the crack spread rapidly and soon the entire hull disintegrated like an eggshell that was also thrown into a vat of superheated oil.

                                            This left Quiverwing with at least two problems.

                                            The wall of fat barreling down the street like a tasty tsumani.

                                            Secondly, the supervillain responsible who had managed to scramble onto a V shaped piece of superweapon debris and was clinging pathetically to it like a lion cub atop a very burny wildebeest stampede.

                                            Ah yes, the circle of strife.

                                            • Quiverwing Duck
                                              Quiverwing Duck

                                              A grim smile curved Quiverwing's beak as he watched the tank burst like a giant tick full of boiling fat. His primary concern now was that someone would get swept up and sautéed by the sizzling surge of scalding oil. The masked mallard looked back to make sure Angel was still safely indoors, and to check that most of the citizenry had fled once Negaduck started his rampage. Except, of course, for a little old lady crossing the street, because there was always one of those.

                                              Firing a grappling hook arrow, Quiverwing swung over to where the little old lady was waiting for the 'Walk' sign to turn green, even though there was a complete absence of traffic that would have roused the curiosity of anyone who had been paying attention. He grabbed her from the ground as he swept by, and by the time Quiverwing was landing on a low rooftop, the woman was belaboring him about the head with her purse.

                                              "Unhand me, you scoundrel!" she snapped, giving him another clout that knocked his hat off.

                                              "Sorry about that, ma'am," said Quiverwing, setting the woman on her feet and glancing down over the parapet in time to watch his hat disintegrate in the river of hot oil. He avoided further scolding by leaping away again and firing another grapnel arrow; on the subject of ungrateful rescuees, there was another one he still had to deal with.

                                              Quiverwing swooped down, and at the nadir of his swing he grabbed Negaduck and plucked him from his perch before the debris could sink entirely. "You realize that anyone lurking in the sewers today is going to be very upset about this," said the archer, in a conversational manner.

                                              • Negaduck
                                                Negaduck

                                                It was an extremely rare moment, for Negaduck had nothing snarky to say. He was too focused on the bubbling death brew immediately below them to even complain about being swung away from there damsel style.

                                                As they landed atop a roof, the deviant deposited in a far amount of disarray, not that seemed to matter. He was staring at his saviour.

                                                "You." Not spat with the usual truculence but something more akin to awe. "You saved me?"

                                                SPLORCH.

                                                Spare sauce bottle to the eyes!

                                                "Sucker!"

                                                And off he flew, leaving Quiverwing to deal with the clean up of both his face and the streets.

                                                All in a day's work?

                                                • Angel McDrake
                                                  Angel McDrake

                                                  Angel was still watching what was going down from inside the diner, wishing she could do something to help. But what could she do about the hot fat flowing through the streets? The only thing she could think of was using something cold to put out the heat from the fat. But the only thing in the diner cold enough was all the ice cream for the sundaes, milkshakes and ice cream floats the diner sold. Hmn, I wonder, she thought.