Oohh, omg hi, I saw that Darkwing duck is in your fandom lists that you write for! So uhm, if it's okay, could i maybe request headcanons for Negaduck, can be either his original version or ducktales 2017, whichever one you would like to write! ( if he's okay to ask for tho, i didn't see any fics of him on your blog yet :0 ) with a fem!reader who's autistic, and a really big horror nerd?? Like for example she knows a lott of facts about slasher movies, and horror stuff in general, and because of that, could literally help him out with certain jobs in his line of work? Would be extra fun if the reader is maybe a raven or a crow, if that's possible??
Also, this is my first time requesting something for the darkwing duck fandom! I did know about the show, but didn't realize there where fanfiction writers until i looked for some XD
Anyways, i hope you have a great day/night! And take as much time as you need, thanks in advance :3
🌤️ — hi! to be honest, um, I'm not sure I'll be able to write something accurately related to autism, but I liked the idea as a whole, so, well, I hope you don't mind that I missed this moment. it's more like original Negaduck
°.✩┈┈∘*┈୨୧┈*∘┈┈✩.°
« Horror is more fun when you're not alone. » 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒
— FANDOM: DARKWING DUCK.
— PAIRING: NEGADUCK x BIG HORROR FAN!READER.
— ROMANTIC/PLATONIC.
— HCS.
— TW: BAD ENGLISH, BAD GRAMMAR, OOC, NOTHING REALLY.
°.✩┈┈∘*┈୨୧┈*∘┈┈✩.°
☆ ┈ Okay, let's be honest, Negaduck treats everyone disgustingly, even his allies. The moments where he treats someone with patience are incredibly rare.
☆ ┈ And it seems you're a damn lucky bird.
☆ ┈ You might be something like the Fearsome Five's assistant, but mostly just for Negaduck himself. Maybe you joined on your own and are treated as an unofficial member, although I had another idea.
☆ ┈ Let's say you're not a villain, but, say, a civilian who's just unlucky enough to be held hostage by him.
☆ ┈ He probably would have noticed you if you had talked to him about your hobbies. For example, by paying attention to his chainsaw, and comparing it to the chainsaw from the movie "St. Canard Chainsaw Massacre", praise his cruelty or something like that.
☆ ┈ Although he doesn't really care about other people's opinions, he likes it when his ego is amused, so it won't be superfluous.
☆ ┈ Negaduck mostly commits crimes for the sake of money or power..But sometimes just for fun. Imagine that since you were rescued, he continues to kidnap you, so that you would tell him all sorts of horror so that he could laugh.
☆ ┈ There aren't many people in this boring city who can really enjoy something creepy..He finds your interest in horror films amusing.
☆ ┈ People never stop wondering why every time someone notices that you have suddenly disappeared, and when there are guesses that you have been abducted, you appear as if nothing had happened.
☆ ┈ (he really doesn't care if you leave or not, he doesn't even keep you in the conditions of being abducted, because he will bring you back soon anyway, and for you it's like a sudden trip)
☆ ┈ In any case, whoever you are, you are essentially the one who makes him laugh. Your dynamic can literally be described as "well, they make me laugh" (yes, Jessica Rabbit reference)
☆ ┈ Some of his allies or just other villains who are aware of your situation find his interest in you strange and compare you to the dumb king and the fool, but no one objects, because usually if someone starts complaining, the sound of a chainsaw makes him change his mind.
☆ ┈ If you haven't joined the criminal world yet, he may be pushing you to do so, confident that you already have tendencies. If you're already a criminal, well, he always has a way to convince someone of something.
☆ ┈ Your chatter inspires Negaduck to commit crimes, but they are real, which means they are scarier than on the screen, often involving you in it. If you like horror on the screen, then you will like it in reality.
☆ ┈ He treats you with condescension, but recognizes that your presence brings him fun, and since the opportunity to cause havoc for fun does not always appear, you are a backup option.
☆ ┈ If you may have problems, but from another villain, he will most likely attack them. He's sure himself that he doesn't really care about you, but he also doesn't want you to disappear.
☆ ┈ You give him an idea, he embodies it with maximum destructiveness, everything is simple. He does not ask you to help him, however, if you want to..Well, you're welcome.
☆ ┈ The usual hobby connected you, funny, isn't it? Well, as long as you keep him amused, so be it.
— "What have you got there?"
— "Oh, it's just my favorite movie. Do you want to-"
— "Let me see."
🌤️ — I'M BACK TO POSTING haiii
🌤️ — not sure if this is good, but I wanted to finally continue working on the requests soo yeah, hope you like it, have a good day ☆
hiii! if ur doing requests still, can i ask yandere darkwing duck and negaduck x GN! reader? were Darkwing is super possessive, afraid reader might get hurt with anything going on in St. Canard, were as Negaduck is super obsessive and yoinks reader away from Dw to flatter them and try to get to know them more, like fave foods, and hobbies and such! sorry if its a lot to ask!!
Oooh! Good one!
"Rivalry!"(Yandere Darkwing and Negaduck x GN reader)
"DW, what's going on?" You asked as he shoved you into the Ratcatcher.
"Taking YOU to safety! It's too dangerous for you to be out and about with all the crime going down recently!" Darkwing explained.
You sighed. He'd always been protective-some said he was OVERprotective-but this was ridiculous! "What about when I have to go to work?" You asked.
"You can work from where I'm taking you!" Darkwing rebuttled.
You sighed tiredly. You would have fought with him about it, but you knew him well enough that you couldn't win with him.
You took your seat in the Ratcatcher, crossing your arms frustratedly. "Don't be like that, you know this is for your own safety." Darkwing sighed.
You grumbled to yourself, sinking in the seat you were sitting in. "It's not fair."
"Neither is crime, my dear!" Darkwing announced, giving you a kiss on the forehead.
Soon, you two headed back to his hideout, Darkwing guiding you to a guest room. You laid down on the bed inside, just wanting to get some sleep.
You got some sleep, being woken up by your window being forced open. "DW, I swear..." You yawned.
"I'm not Dipwing." A low, gravely voice cut through the darkness.
You shook your head, looking at the source of the voice. "Oh. It's you." You sighed.
"Rude." Negaduck frowned.
"So like, why're you here?" You asked, getting cut off as Negaduck picked you up and started carrying you to the window. "Of course." You sighed tiredly.
You relaxed into the seat Negaduck put you down in. It was more comfy than the Ratcatcher, that was for certain.
When you two stopped at his base, he began drilling you with questions. "What's your favorite food? What's your favorite drink? What hobbies do you have?", stuff like that.
You gave your honest answers, noting that Negaduck was scribbling them down. Interesting. "Thanks, babe." Negaduck smirked.
"No troub-" You started, face dropping as you saw a blue cloud of smoke and heard someone begin to talk.
Hey! You're still taking requests, right? If so, may I request some yandere headcanons for Negaduck? Not Jim Starling, though, I mean the Negaduck from the '90s universe. I'm really curious on what your take on that version of him would be like!
Asking Negaduck to tolerate second place is to strip him of his weapons and brand him a hero. Dumping sacks of stolen jewels and cash on his friend's lap merits gratitude in his world, and he expects payment in the form of unconditional loyalty. If someone encroaches on his supremacy in the friendship, Negaduck turns the downfall of the guilty party into a graphic spectacle that is the highlight of the evening news.
Few possess the courage to approach his friend, for Negaduck relishes terrorizing any soul with companionship on the mind. He is not shy about expressing his volatile hatred for everyone else in their life and retains a selfish indifference to their objection. While Negaduck toys with the idea of forming a crime duo, he places far more emphasis on monopolizing their attention than he does on earning their favour.
This public enemy dreams of tormenting the innocent and plundering St. Canard with his friend. Standing atop the pile of rubble it becomes and laughing at stragglers sounds like a prime bonding experience to him. Negaduck goads them into partaking in his violent escapades, sharing the gruesome details of past crimes and bringing heists to their doorstep to compel them to participate.
Romantic:
He wants to see his partner at their worst. He likes to push them to the proverbial edge in emotionally charged situations, twisting the words of others and nurturing a false sense of urgency that leads them to wreck their interpersonal relationships. The logical protests of friends are attempts at sabotage, the rational fears of vulnerable citizens are an inability to accept change, and the protective instincts of heroes are a show of distrust.
Negaduck encourages them to pursue all their nastiest impulses with unbridled enthusiasm. Restraint and reasoning are declared obstacles to their potential, and he enables self-destructive habits to further tarnish the public perception of them. Success entails destroying their every charitable quality and rebuilding them as a villain.
Even when his partner is alone, Negaduck's reputation for brutality acts as an intrinsic repellent. Evildoers alter their plans to avoid speaking to them, and civilians shun them for ostensibly being the cohort of a violent criminal. No one with regard for their life is fatuous enough to kidnap his partner, but Darkwing Duck is determined to rescue them.
hi im the one who requested for yandere Darkwing and Negaduck x GN reader! thank you for doing my req i loved the fic very much <3 if its okay i got another request! Negaduck x GN reader who doesn't like eye contact? specifically Jim starling if that's okay!^_^
JIMMYYYY!!(/pos)
"Are you listening to me?" You looked up at him, but didn't look him in the eyes.
"Yes, sir, I just don't like eye contact, th-that's all!" You sputtered out.
He raised an eyebrow. "Why? Scared of me or something?"
You shook your head no violently. "No, I-I just...don't like it...it feels too...intimate..." You explained.
"Hm..." Jim hummed, putting a hand to his chin and tapping his foot in thought. "How can we get around this..."
You stood there worried. What was he planning? "Uhm...sir...?"
"I'm thinking." He said sharply. "I wanna see how we can get around your dislike of eye contact."
You were surprised. He typically never compromised on things. "Oh!"
"What? I love you, dammit, I'm not gonna be an asshole to you." He frowned.
"I know, you just...never make compromises, sir!"
He chuckled. It sent shivers down your spine, despite knowing it was a happy laugh.
"...and you do scare me a bit, sir. That is one reason." You muttered.
"...can I find a way to make it easier for you? If I didn't look scary, would you make eye contact with me?" Jim asked, brightening up.
"Maybe!" You shrugged.
"...I need to make a visit to Quackerjack." Jim smiled.
I really love your Jim starling fic! What would the aftermath be (ie the others’ reactions and the recovery)? Not many yandere writers talk about the outcome 🤔
Yandere Jim Starling | Negaduck (Romantic Scenario - “Rendezvous in Cold Blood 2: The Hero’s Sacrifice”)
A.N. – It only took four months, but it's finally here. I poured my soul into framing this exactly how I envision a showdown between Drake and Jim would have gone if the series were Mature.
Horror infiltrated Drake’s figure when Jim made a beeline for you and Launchpad.
The vigilante leapt in front of the mad duck and outstretched his arms on either side of himself in a frantic attempt to abate the former actor’s bloodlust. "Please, Jim! It doesn't have to be this way!" Darkwing Duck shot his predecessor a look of compassion, pleading for a peaceful resolution.
Jim halted and shifted his frenzied gaze to the caped crusader before erupting in screams of malevolence and swinging the chainsaw at him wildly.
“Don’t you dare patronize me!”
A cry of terror escaped Drake as he scrambled backwards like a terrified child. Beads of sweat began to cascade down his forehead, a quiver rattling his body.
A fresh gash in the centre of his costume exposed his teal undershirt and chest plumage, a sliver of crimson beginning to leak from the laceration. The vigilante peered down at the wound with eyes as wide as saucers and winced, a strenuous grunt slipping past his lips despite his best efforts to repress it.
Eyes snapping shut, he pressed a hand against the slash before meeting Jim’s malicious grin with determination. “I’m not going to fight you.” A tandem of misery sank into the depths of his stomach as the duck he had once revered as a hero mirrored the villains he swore to vanquish.
"Good."
The actor tilted his head with a smile, eyes narrowing in amusement.
The young mallard's insistence on preaching to his humanity drew gales of laughter from a part of himself that deemed such compassion a deformity of the naïve mind.
"I'll be done with you in no time."
A silent moment of acknowledgement registered on Darkwing Duck's face, a grim serenity permeating the air. The burning in his chest brought a ripple of acceptance as his hopes for a truce dwindled to dust. Perhaps his wishes would see fruition tonight, but not without first defiling the code he clutched to his being like a lifeline.
As he gazed at your crippled form, face contorted in distress and blood trickling from your leg, and Launchpad's conflicted visage, faith torn down the middle like a flimsy piece of paper, he decided it was a sacrifice worth making.
“Take them and go—” Drake had begun to turn towards Jim only for metal teeth to clip the edge of his bill and kick his head back in a movement too rapid to be harmless. The vigilante was knocked onto the concrete and clutched his beak with trembling hands, slowly uncovering it to reveal a jagged, vertical scar shaping the corner of his lip.
“Darkwing!”
Before you could blink, you were plopped onto the sidewalk. Agony rocketed through your crippled leg as the exposed bone collided with the frigid concrete.
Launchpad was unaware of the damage he had inflicted, for he rushed ahead to intervene before any more blood was shed.
Both ducks paused and spared a glance at the pilot.
Jim realized that the comment was directed at Drake and grit his teeth with a silent wish for vindication.
Darkwing Duck’s eyes widened in horror, and he extended a hand with haste. “No, Launchpad! Get out of here!”
The former actor’s breathing hastened, his grip on the chainsaw tightening until the tool began to shake violently. The growling of its motor mimicked a rabid, snarling dog.
Drake hissed and clutched his chest, blood secreting from the incision and curling around his digits like a serpent.
Stretching the muscle had prompted a fresh surge of pain to erupt in his injury. White feathers were stained a rich shade of crimson as strings of pain trailed down his abdomen and slipped inside cracks in the pavement. One look at the warm droplets oozing from his flesh brought a wave of nausea crashing upon his figure.
Jim reared the mechanical saw and aimed for the vigilante’s neck, swinging with fervorous strength.
“Darkwing, look out!”
The caped crusader turned his head, a glimmer of steel reflecting in his eyes before a massive force rammed into his side.
Drake tumbled across the sidewalk, groaning and gasping as sanguine fluid slipped through his fingers and trickled onto the concrete in puddles. He bolstered himself by his elbows and had begun to stagger to his feet when the howls of the chainsaw quieted. The vigilante peered towards the noise with a mixture of alarm and bewilderment, only to feel a coldness envelop his form.
Launchpad was lying on his stomach, eyes shut and limbs splayed. The scatterbrained duck sported a gash along his arm that stretched from his shoulder to his wrist.
As blood began to stain the sleeve of his bomber jacket, Jim gawked and took a step back. He lowered the weapon to his side and scrambled for words, a flash of remorse slipping into his image before it was obscured by indignance. “Why would you do that, you buffoon?!”
Launchpad lifted his head and looked at his idol with somber conviction. “It’s what a hero would do.”
The former actor stared at him, eyes wide yet crinkling with disbelief. He slowly shook his head, straightening his posture and proclaiming in a low tone, “Villains don’t deserve mercy.”
As if cementing the statement, a cry of outrage resounded from behind.
Jim whipped around with a scowl, only to find himself staggering backwards. His forehead was enveloped in a wildfire of pain, and his vision churned like fruit in a blender. Panting drew his gaze to the sight of Drake, eyes narrowed and fists clenched.
A frenzied smile bloomed on the mad duck's bill. "So, you finally grew a backbone?" He revved the chainsaw and lunged for the vigilante, striving to enlarge his earlier work. "Well? Don't leave me in suspense!"
Flinching at the cacophony of cackling and howling echoing in the street, you dragged yourself to the nearest streetlight. The metal was frigid underneath your touch, but having something solid to grasp provided a sense of comfort. A haze had been developing within your mind, each drop of blood stolen by the concrete below draining another sliver of consciousness.
A muffled voice mumbled at your side, stained with a frantic insistence you were blind to. A scrap of awareness penetrated your body only when your hand was seized and a small object was planted in it. The jolt of adrenaline cleared your ears long enough to hear, “Take my phone. Call Mr. McD.”
* * *
“I’m not saying you can never see them again,” cried Drake, leaping aside to evade a swing with the power of a speeding truck behind it.
Jim’s eyes remained intertwined with his, not daring to gaze upon you before eradicating the pest. “Don’t try to bribe me with lies! I know your gimmick.” His tone dropped to a grumble. “Make me lower my guard with pretty words." He swung the chainsaw at Drake, who backflipped towards a streetlight. “Then, stick a knife in my back!”
The failure earned a howl of frustration. “Oh, I bet you’d love it if I kicked the bucket, wouldn’t you? All the fans, all the fame, all for you.” The length of the fight was beginning to antagonize the mad duck's tired bones, but the fury boiling in the pit of his stomach acted as a natural steroid. “Sorry to disappoint, but you’ll have to kill me first.”
The weight of his fists seemed to hold the entire world as Darkwing Duck dodged a slash at his legs. “I’m not taking them! I’m saving them! Keeping them locked up in your house, never seeing anyone but you--it’s not right!” He bowed his head for a moment of contemplation before looking at his childhood hero with desperation.
“You’re sick, Jim. But I want to help you. You just have to let them go.”
The former actor refused to meet Drake's gaze, eyes obscured by the rim of his red fedora. “Let them go, huh? Awfully convenient for you.” His fury was reignited with an indignant edge. “I bet you’re dying to get me out of the picture! Guess what, you hack," sneered Jim, spitting the insult with such frigid animosity that Drake flinched.
"Only one of us is leaving here with a pulse. So—” he smiled “—may the best hero win.”
* * *
“Why do you have my chauffeur’s phone,” inquired Scrooge, voice heavy with suspicion.
Glancing at the sound of metal teeth tearing fabric, you shook your head to dispel the fog seeping into your thoughts. "We were attacked," you murmured, pausing after each syllable to breathe. Your lungs acted as if they were incapable of retaining oxygen for more than a few seconds.
"Wait a moment, I know your voice." Shuffling reverberated through the phone as the trillionaire moved to a more private location, silencing the background chatter. "Is this one of Launchpad's friends?"
A tandem of frustration sunk into your voice, both from your battle for consciousness and the wealthy waterfowl's leisurely attitude. "Both of us are injured. I need a hospital, and—" You slid down the streetlight but caught yourself with a shaky arm, nearly dropping the device.
"Easy now," cautioned Scrooge, urgency entering his tone when he heard you gasping for breath. "Where did you say you were?"
Whispering the street address was the last effort you managed before being yanked to your feet. The phone was snatched from your grip as Launchpad clutched your shoulders, sporting an expression of panic.
"The Ratcatcher is on one of these roofs. I—I don't remember which, but I'll find it." He glanced at Jim kicking Drake to the ground. "I'm gonna try to take down Jim, but you need to be ready to run." The pilot had begun to sprint towards the two ducks when he paused to send you an apologetic look.
"Uh, scratch that. I'll carry you."
* * *
“You want to know why I don’t let them leave?" Jim loomed above the young mallard with a vicious scowl, wide eyes reflecting a bottomless pit of contempt. The mad duck pressed his foot against the vigilante's chest, twisting it back and forth to chafe the wound. "Because the world is full of villains like you just waiting to steal the life of the hero!"
The former actor seized the front of Darkwing Duck's costume and yanked him forward. "They don’t need your help. They don’t need anything from you, so why—”
Jim slammed the back of Drake’s head into the pavement.
“—won’t—”
In the silence of the night, it was a sound louder than any scream.
“—you—”
The vigilante's eyes began to flutter shut.
“—just—”
His hand fell, slapping the ground like a slab of raw meat.
“—die already?!”
A pair of arms wrapped around the mad duck's torso and heaved him across the street, his yell combining with the screeches of the chainsaw as it bounced off the asphalt. The metal teeth hissed and punctured the road, showering him in sparks that singed his costume and plumage.
Launchpad's cries failed to penetrate Drake's fractured skull, the young hero hanging limp in his grasp. After a moment of deliberation, the scatterbrained duck retracted his arms.
The vigilante stood motionless before leaning on his heels and collapsing onto the concrete.
A series of apologies poured out of the pilot's beak as he slung Drake's arm around his shoulder and lifted him from the ground.
Groans escaped the mallard, his eyes cracking open like eggs over a frying pan. Slurred questions trickled from his mangled form as he scanned the area for his opponent. Before he could voice his concerns to Launchpad, headlights enveloped the street.
Everyone squinted and retreated into themselves, raising arms to their eyes and turning away.
The yellow glow swerved to reveal the limousine of Scrooge McDuck, pristine black paint shimmering in the moonlight. The tires squealed and left a trail of rubber in the shape of a circle. The car door was flung open, and the trillionaire planted his spatterdashes on the asphalt while the vehicle screeched to a halt behind him.
"What's this about an attack?"
A gasp escaped Launchpad when Darkwing Duck leapt free of his grip and pointed a finger to the sky, legs wobbling and tongue protruding from his bill. "Mr. McDuck, I've apprehended the suspect!" Head lolling, a groan fled his form as he plummeted to the ground.
The trillionaire squinted and eyed him with perplexity, shifting his gaze to you when his chauffeur collected the vigilante.
The pilot steadied Drake with a worried frown, clenching his shoulder and draping an arm over his chest. "Mr. McD, I humbly request to ride shotgun—"
Scrooge raised a hand. "I'll drive."
The howl of a chainsaw engine spurred Launchpad to sprint to the passenger side and coax a reluctant Drake into climbing inside.
"We have to save them," he muttered, placing a hand on the limousine and resisting Launchpad's push.
The pilot managed to ease him into compliance with the reply, "I'm going to them right now!" True to his word, he rounded the front of the car with urgency in his step, only to find you limping in his direction.
Scrooge had begun to approach, arm outstretched and casting apprehensive glances at the mad duck marching forward with a chainsaw reared above his head. The trillionaire tugged you to the backseat and nudged you inside with all the care he could summon in the frantic situation. The moment you shut the door, he dove into the driver's seat and put the car in reverse.
Launchpad clambered into the seat next to Drake, careful not to allow his head to ricochet like a dodgeball in the gymnasium.
The vehicle whirled around and proceeded to speed down the road when the rear window shattered into a wave of jagged blades. Hundreds of tiny knives cascaded down upon your figure as a cherry chainsaw soared past the bumper and crashed through the side of the automobile. Pain erupted all over your body, and Scrooge narrowly missed a fire hydrant.
An itch ascended your leg and sank its claws into the piece of tendon dangling from your fractured tibia, culminating in a painful fusion of tingling and phantom bites. A stifled whimper got caught in your throat as you winced and dug your fingers into your thighs. The sensation grew more intense with each second of neglection until the wound felt like it was infested with hundreds of microscopic insects burrowing into your flesh.
Scrooge glanced at the motion in the rearview mirror multiple times before spotting the exposed bone. He was a thin step short of slamming his foot on the breaks as his jaw dropped to his neck and his eyes reached the brim of his top hat.
Anxiety flooded your system when the wealthy waterfowl's initial shock morphed into furious bafflement.
The trillionaire extended a hand in your direction, palm pointing to the wound. "Did he do that?!"
A morsel of shame crawled into your frown as you lowered your gaze to the injury, nodding.
Scrooge returned his gaze to the road with a scoff, clenching the steering wheel and pursing the corners of his beak. "I don't know what sort of relationship the two of you have, but it's not good."
* * *
A light rain descended from the heavens, tiny droplets of water soothing the bit of scorched flesh on his cheek. Jim opened his hand to the liquid and peered into a world above his own before exhaling. A glassy veneer accumulated in his eyes, reflecting the scarce slices of silver light peeking through the grey clouds.
The occasional clap of thunder echoed in the distance like the roar of a great beast far beyond his imagination. A gentle breeze carried the tips of his cape as he lifted the chainsaw into his arms, shutting it down with a groan. The guide bar reflected the image of a stranger. It was stained with streaks of blood, but the rain washed away any doubt.
A low chuckle reverberated through his chest and wafted from his mouth like the silky smooth locks of a newborn. The actor swung the tool to his side and exposed his face to the drizzle, sighing.
Thanks so much for answering my ask! I was going to request some Mark Beaks next but you've got me feeling some kind of way for Jim Starling. Maybe his darling got out from house arrest and, when (cuz we both knows that's a when not an if) they're caught they pretend they went out looking for him because they were "so scared". They were worried someone had hurt him.
Yandere Jim Starling | Negaduck (Romantic Scenario - "Rendezvous in Cold Blood")
A.N. – Zoinks. I effectively wrote this backwards, and it was one of the strangest experiences. Anyway, this guy is a treat to write, so thanks for the request.
"Worried about me? That's rich," spat Jim, teetering towards the nearest corpse and scowling at it as if daring the cadaver to so much as twitch. "We both know you can't stand the sight of me."
His words escaped in a snarl, but the underlying pain in the former actor's voice made you suffer a fleeting twinge of regret.
You glanced at the streetlight and took a deep breath before hesitantly meeting Jim's sharp gaze, tightening your grip on the flip phone in an attempt to pacify your pounding heart.
"That's not true, Jim. You know that's not true."
The volatile duck remained silent as he stared at you, one of his cyan and lime eyes twitching slightly.
"Then why do you make me hunt you down?"
The adrenaline rush left you feeling as light as a tail feather, and your mind was beginning to float away. Struggling to keep yourself grounded, you nearly broke the flip phone in two. After relieving that bit of tension, your thoughts began to replay all the nights you spent mentally rehearsing dialogues to save your hide rather than sleeping.
"If you're so worried, why don't you come a little closer?"
Jim smiled darkly and extended a hand to you, his manic gaze taunting and malicious. The former actor continued to stalk forward like a prowling leopard, and your gaze dropped to the never-ending midnight stretch of the street.
It was becoming nearly impossible to retain eye contact with his mad image.
He interpreted a twitch of your head as a rejection. "Oh, why not? I could be in terrible pain and just want some comfort. That is why you came, right?"
The former actor's jeering mocked your crumbling facade of compassion, giving way to the primordial fear lurking beneath the surface. Barely repressing the urge to blurt out a vehement refusal, you reminded yourself that your life depended upon selling your desperation as concern for him.
"I heard Darkwing Duck—" a scowl flashed across Jim's face "—started patrolling these streets, and when you didn't come home, I was so worried."
Drake had surely received your message by now and was on his way.
As you slipped the flip phone into your pocket, the thought gave you solace enough to raise your head and look the mad duck in the eyes for a moment, feigning relief. "But I can see I was just being silly, so I'll head home now."
The former actor scoffed as you went out of your way to walk around him.
When you came within a few steps of him, he abruptly jumped in front of you. "Oh, really? And how exactly did you know that dunce would be here? I don't recall telling you."
You spared a glance at the mangled corpses behind Jim and the blood-stained chainsaw in his clutches, the itch in his voice to explode for hearing you say the name of his most hated nemesis causing a lie to spill out. "He's watching the whole city, right? So, I figured he'd come to this neighbourhood, too."
The former actor sneered and regarded you with skepticism, narrowing one eye and widening the other. When his gaze drifted towards your pocket, you turned and attempted to hurry past him, but he seized your forearm in an ironclad grip.
"Why don't we head back together?"
You peered over your shoulder uneasily, face steadily draining of colour as the mad duck smiled widely.
"Nice night for a stroll, wouldn't you agree?"
Drake was not going to arrive fast enough, and if Jim discovered the flip phone, you would be lucky to keep your kneecaps.
The intersection at the end of the street was your best bet, but the former actor's prolific history as an action star had pitted him against people much more athletic than yourself. There was a snowball's chance in hell of you managing to round the corner and find a decent hiding spot, yet as Jim released your arm and reached for your pocket, you found yourself sprinting down the street.
Manic laughter echoed from behind, and a flash of yellow and red dashed past you before you came face-to-face with the mad duck.
He pressed the chainsaw against your chest, playfully pushing you back. You wasted no time in leaping away and whirling around to flee in the opposite direction. "Where to now? Home is this way," shouted Jim tauntingly. His footsteps picked up into a brisk pace, and the sound of a chainsaw coming to life sent spears of terror coursing through your veins.
"Taking the scenic route? Well, don't leave without me!"
A sudden clattering caused you to pause, and you glanced over to see the flip phone lying on the street a few steps behind. Jim was approaching rapidly, but you knew any punishment he dished out would be exacerbated tenfold if he saw the messages. It was a risk you were not willing to take, so you darted forward to snatch the device and had begun to stuff it into your pocket once again when it was suddenly knocked out of your hand by the guide bar of a chainsaw.
"Come here," whispered Jim, his deliberate steps abruptly hastening into a sprint as he revved up the chainsaw and brandished it at you. The grating screams of the machine raked against your eardrums like nails on a chalkboard, but the former actor was in his element. You scrambled backwards, nearly tripping over your own feet in a frantic attempt to dodge the maw of the mechanical saw.
Jim repeatedly swung its steel jaws back and forth in front of your legs, bellowing out a feverous cackle as you yelped in terror and beseeched him to stop.
Your panicked cries only egged the mad duck on, and he shot you a frenzied smile before swinging the cherry chainsaw upwards in a bisecting motion. Your eyes instinctively snapped shut, as you anticipated the searing agony of a thousand, metal teeth diving into your abdomen and splitting your face apart.
No pain befell your body, and you remained oddly idle. The roar of the chainsaw's engine drowned out the thumping of your palpitating heart and drilled into your mind like the screeches of an infant, but the noise had become stagnant. As your eyes fluttered open in confusion, an immense force slammed into the side of your knee.
A sickening crack split through the air as an unbearable pain suddenly shot up your leg.
You collapsed immediately and howled in anguish, hands instinctually clutching your throbbing joint. Mind becoming clouded by the panic and distress, you merely gaped at the exposed bone protruding from the side of your knee. You felt the flip phone pressing against your back as if reminding you to keep it a secret while you continued to groan and whimper.
Hearing Jim click his tongue in mock sympathy, you hastily extended an arm and attempted to drag yourself away. You had begun to draw your arm back and heave your body forward when your crippled leg was abruptly pinned to the street.
"Trying to run again, are we?" His voice was devoid of compassion and remorse, carrying only glee and taunting undertones as he dug his heel into your maimed knee.
A cry escaped you, which prompted him to press down on your broken joint harder.
"I thought you knew better than to connive with villains," mused the former actor, beginning to restart the mechanical saw, "but it looks like you need a refresher."
With the return of the engine's howl clamouring in your ears like cymbals, you spun your head around only to catch a glimpse of the downward swing of a chainsaw. The guide bar lunged for your throat, spurring you to twist onto your side and envelop your neck and face with your arms. The crunching of bones remained an unfulfilled promise, but you refused to test fate by letting your guard down.
At any moment, metal teeth would plunge into your stomach or slice your limbs in half. The throbbing in your knee felt like it was tearing apart and shattering all over again, but the weight of Jim's foot suddenly receded.
When the roaring of the motor began to die down, you hesitantly lowered your arms only to be greeted with a chilling gust of breath. A low chuckle soon accompanied it. As Jim's smug countenance came into focus, the pit of your stomach dropped.
"Thought I was about to whack you like one of those yahoos," he teased, tilting his head towards the carnage behind him with a prideful glint in his eyes.
"Not tonight."
You shot him a horrified look, at which he merely snickered, his shoulders bobbing and leaving you to ponder the legitimacy of his thinly veiled threat. The steel teeth of the mechanical saw hung a few, measly inches from the edge of your chin, but the steady chugging of the quieting engine stirred up a phantom sensation of pointed metal slicing into your flesh. Even as the ravenous motor slowed to a standstill and an oppressive silence settled over the expansive vacancy of the street, you dared not move.
The former actor pressed the chainsaw against the underside of your chin and began to draw you closer, leaning forward and narrowing his eyes. "How about we leave the stunts to me from now on?"
You recoiled into yourself and drew in your functioning leg, quietly whimpering as you discretely reached for the flip phone.
Jim shifted the chainsaw to one hand while extending the other to help you up, sporting a falsely sympathetic smile.
When you merely fidgeted, he grasped your arm and pulled you to your feet. You winced as your maimed leg twisted at an unnatural angle and went limp immediately, causing you to fall forward and collide with the former actor. The mad duck's smile widened, and he hoisted you onto his shoulder, turning and strolling down the street. You fumbled through your pocket for the flip phone and held it below your face, trying to limit the glare from the screen as much as possible when you passed a streetlight.
Drake had texted you a few minutes prior, saying that he was bringing backup. You began to reply with news of your broken knee but paused upon realizing that you had stopped moving, peeking over your shoulder at Jim to see him looking straight at you.
It took one moment too many for you to comprehend that you had been smiling.
The former actor immediately dropped you and tore the flip phone from your grasp, whirling away with a swish of his black cape. His expression promptly became one of manic fury, and he threw the device onto the ground.
You watched with a sinking feeling of dread as the mad duck repeatedly smashed his foot into it and slashed it with the chainsaw until it was a miserable pile of scrap metal.
He continued to stomp and slice far after the phone was destroyed and lay in pieces, the metal teeth creating multiple lacerations in the asphalt and sending sparks careening through the air in every direction.
All at once, the assault ceased.
The former actor stood over the rubble with his back facing you, panting. A deranged burst of growls escaped him before he slowly peered over his shoulder, eyes wide and brimming with ire. "So," muttered Jim, gradually turning as his form shook with a bubbling rage, "you were sneaking out to go collude with that hack."
The mad duck spat the term with boiling hatred and spun around on his heels, head arching back like a pit viper about to strike. "And you had the gall--the nerve--to claim you were worried about me!" His outcry reverberated through the street and melded with the rebirth of the chainsaw engine as he raised the cherry tool above his head and began charging forward.
Frantic whines and grunts tore through your throat as you scrambled in the opposite direction, staggering to your feet and dragging your limp leg across the street. Even as a mix of apologies and protests instinctively spilled past your lips, you knew all too well that there was no point in trying to reason with the former actor while he was in this state. A string of whooshes resounded from behind you while the mechanical saw sliced through the air, and you dove forward to narrowly avoid a sideways swing aimed at your lower back.
Your stomach collided harshly with the sidewalk, a fresh sensation of pain shooting up your maimed limb when it slammed into the concrete. In a last-ditch effort to save yourself, you rolled over onto your back and reared your healthy leg, preparing to kick Jim square in the chest.
Before you could perform the deed, you caught sight of a small, spherical object sailing through the night sky and barrelling towards the two of you.
It had originated from the roof of a lanky building directly across from you on the opposite side of the street. A shadowy figure descended onto the parallel sidewalk a moment later, and you glimpsed a pair of shining golden buttons before Jim abruptly whirled around and punctured the circular projectile with the chainsaw.
The object exploded upon impact, and the area was instantly consumed by purple smoke.
Both of you broke into a coughing fit, but you used the momentary confusion to crawl further down the sidewalk unnoticed, while Jim raised his hackles and quickly acquired a defensive stance. "Using my own tricks against me?" The former actor smiled and chuckled as he said this, but there was nothing more than unadulterated malice in his words.
The glow of a nearby streetlight was suddenly obscured, and a large shadow draped over your form. You began to look up only to feel yourself be effortlessly lifted off the ground and placed onto your feet as if you were as weightless as a pillow. For a wild moment, you thought it was Jim. When the person's tall, muscular stature and brown bomber jacket came into view, you were met with the immensely relieving realization that it was Launchpad McQuack.
The scatterbrained duck had been a good friend of yours until Jim decided it was in your best interest to be isolated from the outside world.
When Launchpad started to let go, you immediately lurched forward and clutched his outstretched arms in a frantic attempt to retain balance. His worried expression shifted to one of bewilderment, gaze drifting down to your legs. Upon spotting your broken knee, he settled on a countenance of sorrow. The scatterbrained duck stared at the injury, visage contorted with anguish and guilt, and you got the sense that his distress did not stem solely from sympathy.
"Can you be any more unoriginal, Darkwing Dunce?"
The caped crusader emerged from the recesses of the fading purple smoke, fists clenched and eyes narrowed. He eyed his predecessor uneasily, gaze flickering to the roaring chainsaw shaking in his grasp before closing his eyes and quietly sighing. Darkwing Duck briefly glanced to his side, discretely monitoring Launchpad and you from the corner of his eye.
The pilot wordlessly lifted you into his arms and crossed the street, steadily approaching the vigilante.
Drake exercised a facade of composure in the face of Jim's thriving malevolence. "I don't want to fight you, Jim, but you have to let them go." His tone was deadly serious, a thinly veiled layer of desperation seeping into the final words.
The mad duck sneered and recoiled like the thought repulsed him to the core. His manic gaze locked onto your current position in an instant, and a look of absolute betrayal crossed his weathered face before being replaced by pure, seething fury. The former actor began panting, eyes becoming more akin to a feral animal's while the chainsaw revved up as if sharing its owner's ire.
"You don't want to fight, huh? That's too bad. Let's dance, Dead Meat Duck."
