RP: Get Lucked

Reserved initially for Gladstone Gander and Negaduck. What a lucky fellow.


Starducks. Such a miserable, soul-sucking place, and not in the way he usually liked.

With his preferred joint recently off-limits for reasons, however, Negaduck had no other choice.

Fortunately, even a fully costumed supervillain blended in to a pre-caffeinated crowd.

"What'll it be?" drawled the teen at the register when he finally made it to the front without killing anyone. Murders, as any criminal knew, generally did not result in well focused baristas.

"Dead shot, from the darkest, blackest bile you've got."

Ideally from last week's roast, fermented in a nuclear core and flavoured with the tears of tiny puppies.

"Would you like our special pumpkin spice essence with that?"

Auto-pilot it may have been, but that deserved a look flatter than the concrete he so dearly wished to smoosh some faces into.

    • Gladstone Gander
      Gladstone Gander

      It started with a little chime of a bell as the door swung open. After which the chipper voice of an employee, who had blessed access to coffee for hours before the line formed, squeaked a congratulations to the person who had just entered.

      "Sir! You've just won our doorprize!"


      "Head on up to the register ignore the line and your order's on the house.  Jimothy will help you right away!"


      "Excuse me, pardon me, oh seems you dropped your watch there friend- oh a priceless heirloom you say, well no of course I couldn't possibly take the rewar-well yes I could, thanks! Much obliged, excu~use me, winner here-"

      And so it went on until a goose in a green suit jacket, with an equally green shirt with the top button left open for a haphazard curl of chest feathers to spill out but in an irritatingly effortlessly charming way, sauntered up next to the villain and leaned casually on the counter.  He grinned at Negaduck before turning his attention to the teen.


      "Jimothy my good man! I've been informed that my order's on the house-" Here he winked. It seemed to charm the barista, look at this lovable scamp. "Get a pen son, I have the taste for a very specific poison!"

      The teen seemed to be at a loss and started scrounging around the desk for a writing utensil.

      • Gladstone Gander
        Gladstone Gander

        “I’ll take an iced Venti Caramel Frappuccino, but substitute the Caramel with Mocha, 2% milk, light on the ice, two big ole’ heaps of that Vanilla bean powder, then I want you to slather that sucker in Caramel drizzle-I see you wrote down ‘extra’ cross that out and write ‘slather’ want me to spell it? I’ll wait-“ he did. “- Good, now after that I want a SMIDGE of Mocha drizzle, a smidge mind you, then a light dusting of chocolate powder make it look like snowfall in a toxic waste dump, a heaping-HEAPING- spoonful of Cinnamon powder- there’s that ‘extra’ word again, ugh it’s fine ‘extra’ will do, a pinch of Nutmeg, some MORE of that Vanilla bean powder, you know what I’m talking about right Jimothy! Ha-ha! Oh no pick that pen back up, there’s more, I want a splash of Cinnamon dolce in there like two finger widths,  a handful of chocolate curls, and hey, you earned it ‘EXTRA’ whipped cream, and drown that all in butterscotch syrup. Simple right?“


        “Uh-“ Squeaked Jimothy sharpie hovering over the blank space on the cup. “Name?”


        “Gladstone Gander.” The teen set off in a daze and Gladstone turned to Negaduck, still grinning. “They ALWAYS spell my name right.”

        • Negaduck

          The only reason Gladstone made it through all that without a slather of bodily maiming was his primary pushee had been blinded by the revolting explosion of good cheer.

          Balloons? Streamers? Ugh. So not in the mood. Ever.

          "Hey buddy." The gander would find himself yanked back and eyeball to already bloodshot eyeball if he were lucky. "Nobody told you not to get between a supervillain and his caffeine?"

          Rhetorical question for the sake of slapping the sucker back to reality. He could of course have jumped straight to dishing out an extra dollop of death but the sweet sounds of pleading for mercy were always more delicious than any damn creamer. 

          • Gladstone Gander
            Gladstone Gander

            "Woah hey there watch the suit-" he tried to remove the villain's grip but gave up after a single tug.  Too much work. "'Supervillain?'" He repeated the word casually as if mulling it over. "You know they might have but darned if I remember. What are your super powers then? Do you like-" his eyes darted to the concerned patrons behind them who were desperately attempting to mime him into silence. No dice. " -wait patiently in line at coffee chains? Verrrry devious."


            Was he being sarcastic? Under the gleeful tone it was hard to tell.

            • Negaduck

              That white hot ball of rage? It flared wildly before he swallowed it, like so much coffee he wasn't drinking. 

              An impressive show of will power for pre-caffeine Negaduck.

              "No, wise guy. It's waiting patiently and then shooting anyone who doesn't drop to the ground, now."

              Look who had joined the party. Bertha II! That was his favoured automatic shotgun, discharged twice into the ceiling then swung over the quickly compliant crowd. See, satisfying. That's how you cower. 

              "Although I wouldn't be surprised if I get an award for community service for wasting somebody who orders anything with the word 'drizzle' in it!"

              Not that he ever in a million years would want his bad name seriously attached to such a thing as service, but a felon could appreciate the irony.

              • Gladstone Gander
                Gladstone Gander

                Well, that escalated quickly.  Gladstone winced with each discharge but still remained conscious and upright, which was a big deal.  While Bertha surveyed the crowd a pile of whip cream with a cup presumably underneath was slid covertly across the counter to bump into the gander's hand. His spirits were immediately rekindled to brightness rivaling solar flare.  His immaculate order in his hand he returned his attention to Negaduck who had by this point casually threatened his life. Gladstone's formidable eyebrows lifted in surprise, this might be a record, it usually took more than a few minutes to incite this much ire in people.


                "Oh, yes, cowering." He nodded unconvincingly and took great care to sit comfortably on the floor, his ankles crossed and leaned his back against the base of the counter.  "Fire away, preferably figuratively, if you know what's good for you." Broadcasting his unconcern at full blast he started to drink his monstrosity.


                • Negaduck

                  The staff seemed to know the drill as well as the customers, and before long a sack with the store's cash was pushed over to the caped crook. Along with his cofffee, because why tempt fate. 

                  Ah. Smell the bitterness.

                  That first taste did so much to calm Negaduck's ever unstable mood... and yet this guy was still sitting like a moron with his equally moronic drink, happy as Larry. Happier, even. 

                  That could not stand. 

                  "Gander, was it?"

                  A question to capture his attention, if the barrel under his bill didn't do it.

                  "Looks like I'll be getting that dead shot after all."

                  And squeezed the trigger, as if to prove he didn't even know what escalating meant. 

                  • Gladstone Gander
                    Gladstone Gander

                    The barrel pressed to his person most certainly did get his attention.  It shocked him even, the NERVE.  He sucked in a gasp, scandalized, which would have gone smoother if he wasn’t drinking while he did so.  Which resulted in him inhaling whipped cream and the sickly sweet contents below.   As Gladstone started spluttering and hacking Negaduck pulled the trigger, in reply there was an odd little noise like “sprOING” from within Bertha’s probably pristine mechanisms.  No doubt she was the cleanest gun that had ever jammed.


                    Reflexive tears were forming in the Gander’s eyes as he struggled through his coughing fit, something had lodged itself in his throat and he pushed the gun barrel aside with a calm hand as if was simply irritating. As soon as he was cleared of the blast radius the shot fired, taking out a chunk of the counter and the display of baked goods with it.


                    ”Ooh-“ Gladstone crooned through his hacking, sounding slightly sympathetic. “-that was a nice try though, better luck next time?”


                    Here he gave one final, deep chested, cough and a diamond the size of a walnut popped out of his mouth  into his palm.He cleared his throat to compose himself, his free hand wiping his watering  eyes. 


                    “Huh. Must have been in with the ice.” Gladstone held it up to appraise it. “How many karats do you think this is?” 

                    • Negaduck

                      Click. Click click click.

                      "Let me.. tell you when I.. take it off your hands..." Negaduck grunted as he worked to reload and clear whatever malfunction had occurred. 

                      No rounds in the chamber. No rounds in the ejection port. How was that even possible?

                      Coming to the more unlikely causes, he slammed the pump action back, only for the entire weapon to fall apart in his hands like so much soggy biscotti.

                      "No, no no no!" Falling to his knees to catch little bits of Bertha. "This can't be-"

                      Technically, separated entirely from its working parts, it should have been completely safe to peer into the barrel for blockages. Technically.


                      When Negaduck came too, blinking through the soot covering his face, he would find himself staring up at a mob.

                      St Canardians could be oblivious. Fearful. Sheeplike, even for actual sheep. But you still didn't want to face them at the wrong end of a pitchfork.. unarmed.

                      • Gladstone Gander
                        Gladstone Gander

                        Gladstone watched the tableau unfold like a particularly proud parent during a school play. He almost felt bad for the villain, almost.

                        “I tried to warn you.” He reminded Negaduck, flicking the diamond into the air like a coin and catching it once more. “I’m the luckiest person alive, so, don’t take it so hard. I’m sure the next guy you point that-“. He eyed Bertha’s parts dashed across the floor, “well... maybe not THAT gun but the next one will like...KAPEEW” he shot an imaginary gun and immediately swapped to acting a victim clutching his chest nursing a wound. His charade complete he dusted himself off and stood. “But, not today. It’s just not your lucky day I guess.”

                        • Negaduck

                          "Heh. Damn straight it's not," said a rather beefy man who had collected the crook by the back of the collar. Perhaps not a sensitive description given the man was also a bull, but at least it was accurate.

                          "N-now hold up a sec." Even for the most fearsome of criminals, talking down an encircling mob was never easy. "I was doing you all a fav-AH! OOF! OW!"

                          Remember, if you're going to cream a wanted felon with your coffee, use a recyclable mug. It's good for the environment. 


                          A few days later, lynch mob escaped and his ribs re-set, Negaduck was back on the same street, except not so much on the street as above it, watching for a certain smug face from the rooftops.

                          "'Luckiest man alive' eh? Let's see him fit any of those descriptors when I'm through with him!"

                          Or more precisely, when the thousand pound anvil suspended by a pulley over the sidewalk was through with him.

                          Times like this called for the classics, for keeping it simple. No firing pins to malfunction on this baby!

                          • Gladstone Gander
                            Gladstone Gander

                            For a while the sidewalk remained Gladstoneless. The street however-

                            Pedestrians scrambled with shrieks as a bright green brand new Lamborghini convertible tore down the avenue and swung into a controlled slide and inexplicably stopped, perfectly parallel parked between two cars with about a fraction of an inch separating each vehicle. The driver side door swung up making the car resemble an irritated mantis and Gladstone, in an entirely new green suit finally stepped onto the sidewalk. He adjusted the fancy super reflective sunglasses on his bill and looked up and down the street to see people were gaping at him. He snapped and fired a few finger guns as he ambled along toward the coffee shop. After that sleepy “villain’s” thrashing the other morning one of the mob like patrons had approached him and plans were quickly made to meet at the Starducks today and move on to an “authentic” St. Canard bar. (“No, no, no drinks are on me, it’s my honor to buy a round or five for someone who actually DID something about that menace for a change.”) and a bevy of onlookers chimed in, he felt pride balloon up inside him. If their eager faces were any indication, he had inspired a pub crawl. He’d also probably be puking in three hours but... such was celebrity.

                            So far... Not a bad way to start a stint in a new city that was for sure. Gladstone strode along, unknowingly positioning himself directly under the anvil and leaned against the wall awaiting his adoring public.

                            • Negaduck

                              "Look at him," mused the villain above. "What a happy chappy."

                              For a moment, that pure loathing that Gladstone's cheerful countenance increasingly festered in him seemed to lift.

                              For a moment. 

                              "Soon to be a flatty matty!"

                              One swift slice of the rope, and Gladstone would shortly feel a rather large weight upon his usually carefree shoulders.

                              At least, that was the plan. 

                              • Gladstone Gander
                                Gladstone Gander

                                Gladstone took a deep breath, appreciating the fresh air and sunshine, man it was good to be alive. A particularly harried passer by dashed past him, dropping a small white envelope in their wake. He trotted after them scooping up the envelope.

                                “Excuse me Ma’am-“ he began but the deafening smash behind him made him jump nearly out of his skin. He turned to look at the anvil over the top of his glasses numbly. That was close, even for him. He saw the remnants of a rope attached to his would be execution device and looked up with a cocked eyebrow.

                                “Strange weather we’re having.” He muttered to himself.

                                • Negaduck

                                  Indeed, added to by the miniature storm cloud brewing over the head of one very moody mallard.

                                  "Blast!" His outrage channeled into striking what remained of the pulley system, which only spun around neatly on its pivot and beamed him upside the back of the head.

                                  That could've been worse.

                                  And then it was.

                                  What followed was a demonstration of why the adage 'if at first you don't succeed' generally isn't endorsed by insurance companies.

                                  Round bombs in a bowling alley that redefined bumper bowling.

                                  Rerouting an entire train track through a building only to deliver a faster express service.

                                  Colour-homing rocket knives that were, in fact, red-green colour blind.

                                  "That is the last time I'm ever using Acme," Negaduck declared, bending the last of the stab marks out of his hat. "I don't care what Villains League referral discount that coyote gets."

                                  Having relocated his target, as well as his senses, the villain whipped out what could've been a kid's remote control car. "I'm going to do this properly."

                                  A button press - lord he loved those - and for a moment the sun seemed to be glinting extra harshly down on wherever the gander found himself.

                                  Until the glint solidified into a red, scorching beam, with about the same coverage as a double bed. No auto-guidance on this thing, he would direct its destruction himself.

                                  NEGA DEATH LASER. FROM SPACE.

                                  "Let's see you out-luck something that's not even in our atmosphere!"

                                  Mwahahha. Eeehehehee. Not getting carried away at all.

                                  • Gladstone Gander
                                    Gladstone Gander

                                    Somehow, inexplicably, Gladstone’s luck had been even better lately? First he’d found that envelope chock full of scratch offs -all of them winners naturally- near that anvil. Then he’d bowled the best game of his life which was saying something. The transportation system was very accommodating what with the final stop being his hotel lobby. Had he even known about the knives he probably would have been delighted in some way as well.

                                    Hell if he had known about any of the many, many attempts on his life he probably would have been flattered. It was like he hadn’t a care in the world, except for the current smudge on those super reflective mirrored sunglasses. He stopped to buff the smear off the lens. That looked better, he held the glasses overhead and peered through them inspecting their clarity. Clearly this was the exact moment the beam of impending doom impended it’s way clear off the lens and surely made Negaduck’s life a tad uncomfortable. The universe even rewarded him with a twenty dollar bill flying past his head, he caught it with two fingers. This city was KILLIN’ IT.

                                    You’re doing great sweetie.

                                    • Negaduck


                                      Both the villain and the controller fried to a blackened crisp like so many Mothers' Day pancakes.

                                      That. Was. It.

                                      Not even waiting until recovery had occurred, as soon as the agony subsided enough to move, Negasoot stomped right on down there.

                                      The shadow of one seared supervillain fell over Gladstone, red eyes a-glow with evil intent and also self-battering induced bloodshot.  


                                      Normally the sort of foreboding accusation by which people addressed him.

                                      "You are going to tell me one thing."

                                      No matter how lucky his mark was, he wasn't escaping this.

                                      This being.. a breakdown into uncontrollable sobbing?

                                      "Why won't you die?"

                                      The only thing at that point holding the fiend up being his death grip on the gander's green collar. 

                                      Well this was frankly embarrassing for all concerned.


                                      • Gladstone Gander
                                        Gladstone Gander

                                        Gladstone's glasses skewed as he was jostled with the shockwaves of the sobs.   Well this was something.  What? He wasn't sure. This poor... homeless? Person?  He patted the top of the soot covered hat in a sort of half sincere comforting gesture.

                                        "There there uh... guy? What do you mean?"   He was completely baffled.  "Who are you?  Wait!" He snapped his fingers. "Were you the valet I gave that Maserati to the other day? I can't really recognize you under all that..." he waved his hand in a vague circle. "...scorched...ness. Would you like a tissue? Or... are you just going to keep on using my shirt?"

                                        • Negaduck

                                          The questions largely seemed to float over his head unlike so many space-fired lasers as the inconsolable mallard collapsed uninvited into bench behind. 

                                          "Can it be - the world's most fiendish felon, Negaduck, losing his touch?"

                                          Nosy nose/bill blow on, well, whatever Gladstone had to offer.

                                          "I mean, I've dealt with my share of superheroes who refuse to be slaughtered-" A flare of anger at the very thought. "But you- you're just a regular schmuck, right?" 

                                          Side-eyeing the other with newly roused suspicion. 

                                          "You haven't come from some far away death-resistant planet? Not bitten by any radioactive chipmunks recently?"

                                          That would certainly be preferable than the alternative explanation.  

                                          • Gladstone Gander
                                            Gladstone Gander

                                            Gladstone searched his pockets for anything that might save his sleeves from being used as a kleenex, ah this will do. He handed the deed to a diamond mine to the friend-er-fiend that is.

                                            “That’s right, Get it all out, keeping that stuff all bottled up can really mess with your blood pressure.” So thoughtful. As Negaduck commiserated the goose brushed the residual soot off himself and plopped down on the bench next to him. Not an ounce of apprehension, or self preservation.

                                            “Oh don’t be so hard on yourself, I’m sure you’re very scary. Loads of people probably think so.” A mother holding a child’s hand started to stroll by but upon seeing the inhabitants of the bench the stroll turned into marathon sprint with a dash of screaming, the kid trailing behind in  mid air like a kite. Gladstone smiled kindly. “See? Women run away screaming at the sight of you.”

                                            Comforting. 10/10. Would comfort again.

                                            When the conversation  switched to a more interesting topic (i.e. himself) he brightened up even more.

                                            “Oh I’m an alien now? I mean, I do travel a lot but I rarely find myself removed from terrafirma. Sorry to bust your ufo friend, I’m actually a native of ‘planet’ Duckburg. Alien, hah, what a kidder. No sir I’m just a regular guy... except for my unbeatable luck that is.”

                                            Something about this guy seemed so vaguely familiar. An image of a gun and a coffee shop fluttered through his memory.

                                            “Don’t I know you from somewhere? Were you ever on the soap opera ‘Brews and Bruises’? The one about the biker gang that owns a coffee joint?”

                                            • Negaduck

                                              The wringing wet parchment discarded without a thought as to what it contained. There was a point where littering wasn't only a bad habit but a lifestyle.

                                              "Unbeatable?" Easing away from the bawling as easily as Negaduck eased away from the other's line of query. "You've had a good streak, I'll give you that, but there's no way your luck is 'unbeatable'..."

                                              Gears turning like the cogs of a super doom machine run on slyness and oiled with sweet, oozing treachery. 

                                              Not that Gladstone had anything at all to worry about. Not with his luck.


                                              • Gladstone Gander
                                                Gladstone Gander

                                                Gladstone seemed heartened by this. 


                                                "Oh yeah that's the spirit! You pluck up!" He stood for emphasis and gestured to the mallard who most certainly looked the worse for wear. His eyes were so red from... tears? Third degree burns?  Hot sauce eye drops just to get nice an angry every morning? Who knew?

                                                "I wish I could to something to-" He cycled his hands a bit as if trying to figure out the right word. "-cheer you up."

                                                Be careful what you wish for.  At that exact moment a crook plowed straight into Gladstone. The two of them tumbled to the pavement. But... what was this?  The weapon the crook had just been holding flew out of his hand on impact,it made several slow motion spins before landing, directly, in Negaduck's hand.  Semi automatic shotgun, right off the production line with bone inlay detailing, never been fired, only driven by an old lady to Satanic rituals on the Sabbath, the gunmetal twinkled lasciviously  The crook untangled himself from the groaning Gladstone and turned to kick him but seeing Negaduck scrambled away.  Gladstone got unsteadily to his feet.

                                                "Watch where you're OOF-" another crook slammed into him, sending him spinning. 


                                                The bag of loot he'd been carrying spilled it's contents at the criminals feet.  This unlucky sap like the first saw Negs and booked it.

                                                • Negaduck

                                                  "Oh you've cheered me up plenty." Negaduck shouldered the pretty little piece he would be having quiet words with later, and scooped the sack into the same hand. 

                                                  "You're new here, you said? How about I give you the tour."

                                                  Taking the green-suited guest by the shoulders for a stroll, a friendly and entirely unmenacing gesture that did not foreshadow doom at all.

                                                  "Least I can do," he declared. "For such a pal."

                                                  Such a term so rarely uttered, but why look a gift gander in the beak.

                                                  • Gladstone Gander
                                                    Gladstone Gander

                                                    The goose that laid such golden eggs was too dazed to argue. He stumbled trying to regain his balance but was steadied by this good Samaritan in the funny clothes. 

                                                    "Oh-hey, yeah that'd be dynamite! Get an insider's look at the place!" Did he not see the gun? The Loot? Or did he just not care? It was hard to tell. 

                                                    "STOP THIEF!" A couple of police officers were trotting toward their location, in lazy pursuit of the thieves, unluckily for them the threat level had moved up from chartreuse to neon pink. (it was a confusing system).  Both officers skidded to a halt nearly bowling each other over.  Neither one seemed to want to reach the scene first.  After a quick game of rock paper scissors one officer drew his gun. "Put the gun down and let the hostage go Negaduck... please?"

                                                    "Hostage? Thief?  Look piggily wiggly you got it all wrong." 

                                                    "WHAT'S HE SAYING?" Yelled the other cop from halfway down the block.

                                                    "I THINK HE'S AN ACCOMPLICE!" The nearer of the two shouted back.

                                                    "OH! THAT'S BAD!"


                                                    Tell me about it.

                                                    • Negaduck

                                                      Calm and collected in the face of false accusation. Yeah, that's what it was. 

                                                      "I'll clear this up," Negaduck said to his accompli- acquaintance. "Just raise your hands up like this and-"


                                                      While Gladstone's movements had (hopefully) distracted the officers, the shotgun had been discharged into the base of a nearby sculpture. By accident, of course.


                                                      The sculpture, as it happened, was a metal frame of the Earth, a good storey high, and wrapped quite prettily in green vines. The fine upholders of the law would have a chance to inspect it up close as it rolled right for them. 

                                                      How unlucky. 

                                                      "Look at that, they've decided to try a new kind of zorbing instead." 

                                                      Much more relaxing than, say, trying to take down the city's most wanted, plus friend.