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The Tortured Soul (Final Chapter Uploaded, Status: Finished)

The Tortured Soul

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the Darkwing Duck characters, they are owned by Disney, Boom! and Tad Stones, if I did I would be swimming in Scrooge’s Money Bin, only in my fantasies though. I do own Posiwing, Jessica Rivers, her Negaverse double, Negawing along with others, not to mention a bucket of Kentury Fried Chicken.

Summary: It has been ten years since Negawing had vanished without a trace and has been presumed dead by most, ten years since masked vigilante Posiwing Duck, secretly known as Dustin Mallard has been married to his childhood sweetheart and best friend, Jessica Rivers. After nearly a decade of crime-fighting, the descendent of the renown extremist Darkwarrior Duck plans to hang up the cape and settle down with his wife and raise their newborn twins, Delia and Drake.

However, it won’t be easy when a whole new generation of villains have appeared to claim the supposedly late Negawing’s position of power for themselves. Posiwing has dedicated his life to protect his new family from the depraved, the indifferent, the murderous menaces, and the criminally insane that threatened it. However, things become even more complicated when a malevolent ghost from Posiwing’s past has come back to haunt him and will do whatever it takes to extract his revenge.


The both of them had stood on the roof of the SCPD (Saint Canard Police Department) Central Precinct as they held hands, it was where they would meet each-other at every night, it was the same spot here when Posiwing had asked her hand in marriage ten years ago. Their faces had met west, toward the Audubon Bay, where beyond that was the capital landmark, the bridge, and beyond that was Duckburg, Saint Canard’s neighboring city.

Even at this time of night it was bitter-cold, in the middle of the summer, which had been unusual since the nights were often humid. The air was dry and the wind was strong and from the north and it made the condensation from their breathing look more like smoke than steam, whipped away as quickly as it was exhaled.

They both stood quietly, each with their own respective thoughts, thinking about the possibilities of the future they were going to share with each other.

At 11:50 exactly, a bright smile had appeared on the thirty-year-old blue-clad mallard’s beak, his wife’s hand in his own, “I can’t believe how much has changed in the last ten years of our lives, it feels like only yesterday that I kneeled at this spot on one knee and asked you to marry me.”

A similar smile had appeared on the black feathered woman duck’s face, “I know what you mean, I sometimes look back and remember how pleasant the days were when we went to the prom for the first time. It was one of the most wonderful nights in my life, but it is nothing compared when we said our vows.” She then sighed heavily. “Even though hardly anyone has shown up, I have no regrets at all for spending my life with you, Dustin.”

Posiwing tightened his grip on his wife’s hand, not so much to reassure her as to keep himself in check. He remembered the story that his father, Nicolas Mallard, had told him about his ancestor; the dreaded extremist Darkwarrior Duck. Years ago, after he had defeated the newly resurrected cyborg menace, Taurus Bulba, Darkwing had married his girlfriend, the sorceress Morgana Macawber, and shortly afterwards it had been announced that they were expecting a child. Originally Gosalyn had been exciting of having another new addition to her family and was thrilled to have a mother again, but she had started to grew worried that she would have been replaced as her adopted father had paid her little attention and was focusing on his biological child. Gosalyn had feared that the unborn child would have replaced her but had intentionally brushed these thoughts away and soon her fear had been replaced with excitement. It was months later that Draco Mallard was born.

However, during that time Negaduck had returned after being sent to prison after his failed attempt to conquer the city and had sought vengeance. With his cunning intellect and cruelty, Negaduck had exploited Darkwing’s weakness by connecting the link between him and his daughter, and had destroyed it. When Darkwing saw that Gosalyn had been murdered by his worst enemy, he had became blinded with rage and had avenged Gosalyn by ending the life of his nemesis in their final battle. However the death of Gosalyn had twisted Darkwing’s mind and he became Darkwarrior and had conquered the city through martial law. His mind had became twisted, he had sought to rid the city of its crime by eliminating its villainous threats, and had even destroyed SHUSH Central when they had tried to stop him.

Despite her best efforts of pleading to her former husband to listen to reason, Morgana had been casted out of Darkwing’s life. In order to save her young child, she had went to Transylvania where her family had resided, where she hoped she could raise her child away from Darkwarrior’s twisted reign of terror. Eventually Draco’s own children had moved away from Transylvania, and Posiwing’s own father, who is now in his early seventies, with hair feathers now more gray than white and a face that had lines etched from a thousand different crime scenes, had been a police officer all of his adult life since leaving the Marine Corps. Nichola’s career had started in Duckburg, a young rookie on a rough force, but just over thirty years ago he had moved to Saint Canard, a new lieutenant in a department wallowing gleefully in its own corruption.

He had once told Dustin that it had been the single most important decision of his life. He had often told him of the cases he had done when he was active. Now Nicholas has retired from his life when he realized he no longer had enough physical endurance to maintain his life-time career.

When Nicholas had first arrived in Saint Canard he had almost immediately hated his new job position, hated the people he was forced to work with even more. He had hated the crime and apathy and desperation that seemed stamped on every street of his new home. He had hated the arrogance of the public servants who had turned their backs on the people.

But Nicholas had fallen immediately in love with Saint Canard herself, with the vibrancy of the city, with its character and its history. Saint Canard is an American city, with streets full of people of every species, stores that are catered to every culture. Saint Canard has a strong pulse, a heartbeat, a soul. Its buildings stand tall and bold as if it reaching for the heavens in the light of day, art deco architecture a block from Jacobson, a street from the neo-classical, abutting the baroque. Saint Canard had glamour and sass, yet the brassiness of a longshoreman beneath it all. Posiwing could see why his father had loved it so much. When Nicholas had first arrived at the city, he had realized he would never leave it, indeed, that he could not. He’d known that Saint Canard was to be his city. He did known he would serve her, like his ancestors before him.

Within that year Nicholas had made captain and overseen the purging of one of the most corrupt police forces in the nation’s history. He had made new enemies along the way as well as new allies, he had even married Catherine White and together they had a son who grew up to be a hero, just like Darkwing all those years ago.

However, when Negawing has shown for the first time, his parents had started to grew worried since the young mallard menace was almost like Negaduck in every way. They believed history would repeat itself and the rivalry that had been established between them would somehow push their son over the edge, and would follow in Darkwarrior’s footsteps and become a tyrant.

However, with Negawing gone for good, the chances of their nightmare becoming a reality were not much likely.

Being the Negaverse version of Posiwing, Negawing is considered to be the archenemy of the hero and was aware of the thin magical blood that had flowed through his veins, being a descendent of Morgana Mallard. Negawing had once created a device to amplify the magic in his blood and harness it for his sinister purposes, however in the resulting battle a explosion had occurred and the device was destroyed. Since then Negawing had disappeared without a trace, telling Posiwing that he had not seen the last of him and would return before debris had seemingly fell from the ceiling and crushed the wicked mallard. Posiwing had hoped that this would have been their final encounter had been really their last and Negawing had been defeated permanently, but he knew that deep down inside as he managed to survive the explosion, if he could survive a collapsing building so could Negawing. He had a knack for always coming back shortly after to wreak havoc, but never had he vanished for such a long period of time, he was usually back after his defeats to attempt to conquer the city again or destroy it. But one incident had proved from six years ago that his adversary was not laid to rest…especially when he had assaulted him.

That was a story for a different day, though, and something he didn’t want to think about now.

Soon after Negawing had ‘died’, a new brand of super villains had started to appear in the city. A demented person who called himself “Misery Maker”, had dedicated to inflict misery in people’s lives (even his own as it seems) and had been seen as more of a public nuisance than a villain. Then there was Major Demolition, a villain who had worked for Unknown, he was a anti-government terrorist and believes he could handle any solution to any of his problems is to by ‘blowing it up’, and as such he is an expert in explosives.

There were other threats too, such as the rogue vigilante Ghost Hunter, whom he had several encounters with before. Unknown, a crime boss who is never seen without his armor or helmet and had run nearly the entire criminal underworld, and then there was the Red Armed Gang, a bunch of crooks. There was also the vampire known as Sonia, whom tried to stay out of Posiwing’s way, since they didn’t’ often see why to see since she kills people by drinking their blood in order to stay alive. But one enemy that he had feared more than the others was Black Widow, a villain who had attempted to kill Posiwing after she had believed he had killed Negawing, she had even claimed she was his former archenemy’s girlfriend, which was something hard to believe, but her similar ability to produce weaponry from thin air and cruelty might be an indication she was telling the truth.

It was the same never ending battle against the forces of evil, it seemed no matter how many times Posiwing had send them behind bars they would soon shortly escape prison to inflict terror upon people’s lives. He was growing weary of this war but he knew he had to keep fighting to protect his family from harm.

Jessica gave his hand, almost reflexive reassurance jerking Posiwing back from the past. He looked away from the bridge and Duckburg, in the distance to look at her. A few months younger than him, twice as pretty as when they’d first met; looking at her he could felt his heart beat just a little faster. For a brief moment, the temptation to bury his face in her black hair, and the familiar fee; of her feathers, was almost overwhelming for him.

But the sensation had gone away as soon as it appeared. They both can’t act like foolish love-stricken teenagers at a time like this. They have a city to protect and serve.

Besides, that could wait another time.

Jessica Mallard, Detective Third Class, and raised in Saint Canard, the child of Dominican immigrants. Jessica was one of the best police officers in her force. His father had a strong paternal pride in her, he had prompted her himself, overseen her assignment and training. There marriage had seen more rocks dug up than an quarry, and there were times when Posiwing had wondered if they kept returning to each other simply because no one else would have them. She was more than his wife and more than his friend and more than his lover; Jessica, he had realized, was his equal.

How could he not love her most of all for that?

There were at least five minutes left before its showdown, Posiwing had mentally thought to himself, as he clenched his right hand into a fist. He had always gone on patrol at midnight since it was the bewitching hour, where crimes at its worst would operate in the shadows at the darkest hour. He was determined to stop their crimes before they were even committed.

“Five minutes, honey,” Jessica said, briefly glancing at her weatch. “Are you nervous? It’s okayto admit your feelings, no one’s listening.”

“Only a little,” he had admitted, “but it’s nothing. I can handle this as long as I have you with me there’s nothing I can’t accomplish.”

Jessica smiled softly as she rested her head against his shoulder as he draped an arm around her neck. She had then patted her large stomach softly, “So what are we going to name the new addition to our family?” She asked.

“I’m sure we’d think of something when the time comes,” he said with a soft chuckle as he brought a hand to her hair, stroking it gently and affectionately. He was looking forward to being a father, he knew it would be difficult but he had a feeling that everything will turn out better at the end.

The problem, as far as Takeshi Robbins was concerned was with his watch. It was a good watch, and he knew that. A expensive Rolex, shock-resistant and waterproof and accurate like you wouldn’t believe. That wasn’t the problem.

It was that he had to wear the darn thing on his wrist, even when he was in costume. Even when he was the Ghost Hunter. There was just no other accessible place to put it where he could reach it in a hurry. In a pouch on his belt, for instance, would require both having a free hand and the time to reach it. So it stayed on his wrist, below the launcher on his forearm that fired razor-sharp spikes with a blast of compressed air that had been laced with a deadly poisonous concoction, and he had long ago resigned himself to all the problems that created; Takeshi couldn’t even count how many times he had to have the watch crystal repaired not to mention the pain that came from blocking a punch with a lump of metal wrapped around your wrist. Posiwing, he was certain, did not wear a watch to work.

No, he had some fancy heads up display in that silly blue mask of his, something that kept perfect time, tied to the atomic clock in Duckburg, and that was visible day or night but never obscured his vision. Probably a gift from that techno hero with the cybernetic suit, whatever his name is. All Takeshi had behind the demonic feline shaped mask of his he wore as Ghost Hunter were third-generation startlight lenses, and they only worked half the time.

He doubt that blue-clad clown had any of the issues like he did. Posiwing had all of the cool equipment, and all the skills to use it, which had annoyed the panther. Shortly after Negawing believed to have been perished in a explosion, which was something he didn’t believe since the mallard menace had survived the worst in his time like Negaduck before him, Posiwing had made it clear that Takeshi Robbins would never had the liberty of using his technology, no matter what the situation was. Takeshi had never seen himself as a vigilante, since he was employed as a mercenary by the government he would often depose of wanted criminals that were so dangerous that even they could not stop. Negawing had been one of them, he was instantly labeled as a threat when he had somehow seized the city in his clutches. And yet, he had survived their encounter and had returned to wreak havoc months later and that had ruined his reputation as the hunter that never misses his prey.

He remembered the conversation he had with Posiwing as clear as day. Two months after Negawing’s death when he had been crouching on the roof of a vacant warehouse, overlooking Aubudon Bay, surveillance on a group of drug smugglers getting ready to move some cocine off the docks. He hadn’t even see the puff of silver smoke appeared behind him and was startled when its owner spoke, making him almost hump half out of his costume.

“Ghost,” he said, just the one word to startled the panther and the tone of it made the fur on the back of his neck stand. Then, he’d glanced briefly at the electric-powered katana that he was holding and he scowled at him.

Ghost Hunter had answered. “I was hired to take these lowlifes out of the picture, one of their victim’s mother had paid me in advance when her son had died, I intend to honor my arrangement with her by fulfilling my job.”

“No one dies tonight,” Posiwing said with a stern look on his beak. Just like that. Just like he was laying down the law. “If you kill even one of them, I swear I will do whatever it takes to put you behind bars like any other scum.”

It had made the panther furious, even before had anyone treated him this way as if he were a child. Suddenly, the judgment in his tone of voice, the command, “I am not afraid of the likes of you and I don’t listen no one!”

“Then we have a dilemma on our hands,” Posiwing had said, walking away from him. “Heed my warning, Takeshi, or there will be consequences. This is my first and last warning; do I make myself clear?”

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that, you are not my superior!” He’d gotten to his feet without thinking, blowing the hiding, blowing the hours of surveillance. “You may dress the same style, but you’re far from being Darkwarrior, you’re nothing but a cheap knockoff! How dare you of all people presume to judge me!” He had raised his sword, ready to strike him with all his might.

The movement had been so quick he hadn’t even see it coming, the blur of cape so fast it might have been a shadow. And then the sword was knocked out of his hand, and Posiwing had tossed it across the roof, not bothering to look face-to-face with the panther. When he saw the scowl on his face, he felt his body froze with shock, it was the first time he’d felt intimidated by him. How was it even possible to be scared of a duck who had posed no threat to him in the past, and yet now he did? For the first time in his life he didn’t had an answer.

“You kill for a living,” Posiwing hissed, the sneer in his voice.

Ghost Hunter had surprised himself by finding his voice, “And your point is?”

“That doesn’t happen in my city.”

“Is that why you treat me with the same contempt as anyone of your enemies? Look, I have every right of depending myself, even if it means I have to kill a four-time loser with murder on his mind that is stupid enough to pull a gun on me. Is that why you hate me because I can take a life without a second hesitation, because you’re afraid you might become something, like your predecessor had done all those years ago?”

Posiwing’s jaw had clenched further. It was like ice when he spoke, “Yes, but don’t you even dare mention that monster’s name among my presence again.”

“Then you’re more paranoid then I’d even thought possible.”

“I am not going to stoop down to your level, I’d make sure that I’d never become anything like Darkwarrior as long as there is breathe within my body,” he growled, and the tone had stunned Ghost Hunter, the way his voice had dropped, he had sounded exactly like his evil twin. But before the panther had been able to respond, he’d already turned and then was gone, dropping off the roof with a snapping of his cape and landed on his motorbike, then sped away to the distance and had vanished from his sight.

The mercenary had known better than to try to follow him, and since then there had been no encounters between them. He had stayed away from Posiwing as much as he could, in fears that the blue-clad duck would keep his word by turning him over to the authorities, he had decided to abandon his appointed task and returned the money back to it angry owner. Instead he had taken his usual government tasks; by eliminating criminal threats in other cities, and had little to none problems with its protective heroes, and now he was back in Neo Canard after traveling around the state of Calistoa for ten years doing various tasks, he has returned to the place he had considered his home. And this time he won’t let anything stand in his way, not even Posiwing Du k would intervened his career. He had grown stronger over the years and was confident he could slain the so-called hero, if given the chance.

His mission would begin around midnight, it was nothing he could not handle, all he had to do was to kill a restaurant manager who had failed to pay his debt to a bunch of loan sharks after he had took too much money from them. They have gone through extreme lengths when they have hired Ghost Hunter to silence him forever.

He’d realized he’d been staring at his watch for over a minute now, not registering what the miniature hands were telling him. Five to midnight, five minutes until he would track down the manager to his home after closing the doors of the Rose Cafe, he thought. The mission is so simple it would consider to be child’s play to the professional mercenary.

He left the cuff fall back into place, smiling despite himself. Even though the job was relatively simple for him he was looking forward of doing it. Looking forward of seeing the results of his training. He felt like he had been away from the city for far too long, but now that he’s back in action… he plans to stay, and no costumed clown is going to tell him otherwise. He wrapped his trenchcoat around himself a little tighter, trying to stay warm, then he had sunk back into the shadows.

Not in my city… The words echoed into the back of his mind like a haunting tune. He checked his watch again. Only three minutes to go.

What is truly sad if that moron thinks he could push me around, he thought bitterly, will he is dead wrong. He plans to settle the score between them, he will succeed which every supervillain, even Negawing, or common criminal had failed to accomplish: to slain Posiwing Duck. It will have to wait though another day, once he was prepared both physically and mentally for the battle of his life.

He touched the cross at his throat, the one part of his costume as Ghost Hunter that carried over into the life of Takeshi Robins. He said a quick Our Father. Then he took a deep breath and prepared to go hunting for his prey like the predator he is.

Ever since he was created; Roger had a strong belief that he wasn’t crazy, he was practically normal. It was everyone else who was crazy, and those sad miserable beings had yet to notice it.

Roger had been the result of an experiment gone horribly wrong when the professor known as Roderick had cloned him so he would transfer his mind into his body to extend his own life. However, Roger had been the polar opposite of Roderick, he was strong where Roderick was physically weak, he had ten strings of red hair instead of five blue strings, and his scales were a slightly darker shade of blue and his eyes were buldging, although he was still the same size, but more importantly he was insane.

Upon being created Roderick had deemed Roger as a failure and intended to dispose of him until Roger had fought back and killed him. He then took the identity of Misery Maker, a purple-clad fish who swore to inflict as much amount of misery in people’s lives, including his own. His reign of terror had been short-lived when Posiwing had arrived and defeated him. Now here he was, stuck in a prison cell and was bored out of his mind.

The voices were starting to get to him, which vaguely was puzzling since every day and for as long as he could remember, the voices had always been his own. But he was relatively sure that the voices he was hearing now, though; of course they concerned him, were not actually his own.

He turned his head on his pillow and listened. Yep, voices. In the hall, outside the cell he was imprisoned in.

“Keep it down out there, you lazy teenage hippies!” he shouted, “some of us have to go to work in the morning!”

Somehow outside, down the hall, someone had the nerve to laugh at him. Whether, it was one of the simpleton guards or another comrade-in-arms he wasn’t certain.

“You’re too kind,” he said, dryly.

Earlier today there had been a wild commotion, with angry shouts sand what had appeared to be the sounds of gunfire. Then there was an explosion somehow in the facility, then the lights in his cell went out, rain or shine, it didn’t matter what you might be doing at the time and there was no illumination leaked through the door, so he guessed it had to be near midnight. Once back when, after that blue-clad goodie two shoes hero had captured him, he’d been put in a cell with a lovely window. The window had been barred, of course, but at least at night he could see the stars and when he stood on the commode he could look down at the ground. And whenever he had slipped while on the commode, his foot had gotten stuck in the toilet, and that had been funny. Really funny.

Toilet jokes were always funny, after all.

When he had done that a few moments ago, one of the doctors from the night shift had quickly came to check up on the demented fish. The moment when the doctor had opened his cell, he had brought out a mallet from nowhere and whacked heron the head, instantly knocking her out. Then he had proceeded to pushed Doctor Patterson’s head through the bars in an attempt to remove her ears, to sort of, you know, peel them off. It had worked, but the doctor’s skull had been crushed as a result. Which had been twice as funny to him and it had been worth it. The look on the assigned guard on his floor when he came in that time and saw the doctor just dangling there, death rattle and all, limbs jerking around all crazy like. Then the guard had looked around and see him sitting there on his cot, looking innocent as one could be, just plain old Roger, aka “Misery Maker”, minding his own business, and wearing Doctor Patterson’s ears, of course,

Now that was funny.

The memory of it made Roger laugh. None of the irritating voices told him to shut up.

He pivoted off the bed, then did a pratfall while getting up, tripping over his own feet, and taking a header into the closest wall. It was still pitch-black and there was no one to see his performance, but it was worth a laugh, and Roger though he pulled it off quite well.

“Well I’ll admit I was disappointed there had been no one to see my wonderful performance, but it could had been much worse; like arriving at your elementary school one day with nothing but your undies with the whole class laughing at you,” he said with a big grin on his face, “although it would be funny, especially if you’re the class clown!”

Springing up, he dusted himself off, and went for the door. He put his hands out in front of him, thinking to settle himself against it, to beckon for the center of attention, eye-level, where the sliding surveillance window was. He didn’t put too much pressure on the door at all.

But it swung open and the shift took him utterly by surprise, and he did another pratfall, this one had been unintentional, out into the window.

“Maggot,” Unknown growled at him.

Roger rose to his feet quickly at the sound of the former crime-lord’s voice, then exaggeratedly dusted himself off. Unknown’s presence in the hall surprised him. The crimelord had rarely allowed himself to be caught by the authorities since his crimes were careful and cold calculating, being here had told Roger that something had gone wrong for him to end up at the slammer.

He had then noticed that the place was strangely empty.

“Unknown,” Roger said, extending an arm and slapping the larger man on the back, “What the blazes is going on here, old geezer?”

Unknown reached and removed Roger’s hand as if it were coated with poison, then turned to look at him full on. Roger got his big grin out, fixing it in place. He needed it, because, honestly, he believed Unknown was crazier than he is. Back before the dawn of time, Unknown had virtually appeared not long after when the big time criminal mastermind, Taursu Bulba, had perished in the explosion on top of Saint Canard Tower, and had claimed the remnants of his empire for himself. He had wore a mask and a suit of some kind of advanced black armor to conceal himself from the rest of the world. Truthfully, Roger had no idea why until his late creator, Roderick, had told him that the armor had an instilled life support system that had kept him alive and healthy. He also discovered that whoever he was underneath that armor is that he wasn’t human, he had no feathers, no furs or even scales covering his body, save for the small lump of white hair on his head and the wrinkled charred flesh on his body. The black armor was rumored to be made out of a material stronger than pure steel, with red lines running down beneath his eyes to his chin. And the lenses in the eye piece of his mask made his eyes glow red, like a demon. And the guns and swords he often carried made him more dangerous.

The swords had a funny name, which he couldn’t remember, and the other weapons were ten milli handheld guns.

Roger had no problem with Unknown’s sinister appearance at all; he had a negative vibe around him that had distinguished him as a very mean person.

It was the old man underneath the armor that he couldn’t stand. The fragile old man that looked nothing more than a burnt corpse, at least with the armor on he looked much more intimidating, and he had respected him for it.

Frankly he hated old people. They smelled like prune juice. He then scowled deeply, he hated prune juice too! It tasted awful! He rather prefer the taste of barbecue sauce which was much better… maybe ketchup too.

Unknown glared back at him, for a brief moment Roger wondered if he was scowling at him. The mask made it nearly impossible for him to tell as it hid his face.

“Shouldn’t there be an alarm by now,” Roger asked.

Unknown merely shook his head and started down the hall. Roger, after a moment’s hesitation, followed him. “Wait for Roger!” He called. It was awfully quiet, he decided. Even the voices, the other voices, had stopped.

He couldn’t help noticing that a lot of the cell doors were open, and their occupants were missing, and he moved on, checking the names. Major Demolition was gone, most likely searching for more explosives to restock the ones he’s lost from his last battle with Posiwing, the guy loved blowing things up for the thrill of it. And then there was Black Widow, a woman so dangerous she might as well considered to be Negawing’s girlfriend, which she once claimed to be (the fact that anyone would claim such a title is bizarre for Roger), she even uses a power tool as a weapon, a diamond tipped buzzsaw that is charged with a deadly charge of electricity, she even had carried a pair of daggers that are rumored to be laced with the same type of lethal venom from an actual Black Widow, which had went perfectly due to her namesake since Black Widow’s bite, especially a female, is dangerous to humans. He had remembered that she wore a costume that is nearly entirely black; she wore red goggle that resemble spider’s eyes, a black hood that can be pulled up to hide the lower half of her face, and a pair of black fangs that had protruded from her mouth, although she is able to retract them into her jaw, and a black suit with an red bright hourglass on her abdomen . He had once seen her outfit the outfit, she had long black hair and green eyes. The thought of her being an actual spider made him giggled.

“Knock it off, you idiot,” Unknown growled at him.

Roger did as he was instructed, but not before blowing a rather loud raspberry at him. Unknown whipped his head to face him, his scowl deepened and Roger quickly reduced his raspberry to a sneeze. “Allergies,” he said sheepishly to the armored crimelord with a silly grin on his face. The crimelord looked at him for a moment longer, then glanced to his right, before moving on.

Out of curiosity, Roger stopped at the cell the other man had glanced at, it was Negawing’s old cell. He peered in as he remembered that the late villain had been the chosen heir to Unknown’s empire until he died under mysterious circumstances about ten years ago. A lot of people had thought he was the leader of the crime syndicate back in the days, but it had been Unknown who had operated it from ‘closed doors’ as it were, utilizing Negaduck as the public image to conceal his identity from the authorities in secret. Somehow after Negawing had died, Poswing had managed to bring Unknown to justice, and his empire fell. The crimelord had gone insane with hatred and swore to extract his revenge by any means necessary for his loss of power.

Roger believed something silly as revenge was stupid since it would bring you nothing at the end; only misery, pain, and possibly your own demise. And he would know since he had often inflicted misery on people’s lives whenever he was Misery Maker.

“You still haven’t told me what’s going on,” Roger insisted.

“Not now, you dimwitted fish abomination,” Unknown said, ignoring the question. “I need to find a computer.”

Roger sighed and followed. He had no idea why the crimelord wanted to find a computer, probably to gain some information by finding some sort restricted files from the databanks of the facility. “Check Justin Ford’s desk, he has a computer that has files on the criminals from this wing. I remember him saying he would update my own profile after I came back from my last shock therapy.”

Unknown grunted, moving down the hall and stopped at the orderly’s desk.

“Now, shock therapy,” Roger went on, “that’s a buzz, if you know what I’ll mean. I mean, it really makes you sit up at attention, really gets you charged up for your day. Shock treatment, in fact, has to be the best thing since cable and---“

“Shut up,” Unknown said to him sternly, and Roger saw that now, that the crimelord was sitting on the chair behind the desk, and much to his surprise that the computer had been activated, while any other electronic appliance has stopped working. He had then pulled out a thumbdrive from one of the slots from the computer’s side.

“How in the world did you got that thing going when there’s no electricity in this place?” Roger asked.

Unknown had then brought the small device to his eye-level. “Its quite simple; this is no ordinary flashdrive, inside there is a inbuilt microchip that gives off a small electrical charge. This enables me to power up this computer for a short amount of time as long as it is connected.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Then don’t bother asking me, idiot.”

“So what sort of information were you searching for?” Roger asked, changing the subject of their conversation.

“I heard a rumor that Negawing might have survived his encounter with that annoying so-called heroic twin of his and had been relocated to this facility.” Unknown replied. “I had expected that the government had covered his death to contain him in this penitentiary in hopes they could separate him from the city, with the advanced state of the art military technology I had in my disposal it had been easy to disable the primitive security this prison had. But now that I think about it, my successor might truly be gone for good, the files had classified that he is deceased, although there are no traces of his body, it might be possible he had been destroyed in that explosion years ago.”

“So with Negawing dead and gone; you’re looking for a successor.”

“I might put that into consideration, I need to find someone to rule in my place when I’m gone. It will take sometime but I fill find the right person to replace me.”

Roger thought, wrinkling his brow. When he wrinkled his brow, he thought briefly he could get his forehead to touch his nose, but that didn’t work. Then his brow smoothed.

“I just had an excellent idea I’d like you to indulge me in,” Roger said, “how about you choose me as your appointed successor? I think I’d make a great crime-lord, a much better one than that lame-brain psychopathic ducky could have been, and besides I’m great with people and I don’t have a temper like he had. So what do you say, old timer?”

Unknown took a quick step and grabbed Roger by the collar of his shirt, lifting him off the floor and slammed him against the wall. The crime-lord growled and leaned over him to the point that their faces were almost touching. Roger grinned maniacally, not so much because he was maniacal, but because there wasn’t much else he could do at the moment. Of the two of them, Unknown was the stronger one by far, and in a straight battle of strength against strength, Roger knew he’d be a loser every time. But then again, Roger would never stand for a fair fight, he would rather resort to every dirty trick against his adversary, hopping on winning.

Unknown growled at him. “You make one lousy joke like that again, I’ll feed you each of your teeth. Rectally.”

Roger kissed the top of Unknown’s head. “Aw, I love you too.”

Unknown turned the growl to a snarl and pushed him away. Then he withdraw the sword from its sheath, he glanced back at Roger than back at the weapon again, weighing his options for a brief moment then he grumbled.

“Follow me, and don’t try to trip over your feet,” Unknown said.

“Sure thing, pal!” Roger said, stopping just long enough at the desk to find himself a pair of scissors. He snipped the air with them experimentally a couple of times, working his way down the hall, and wondering what Unknown would do when they hit the security doors. Those doors, those were always the problem in each and every escape plan, the great massive steel things that slammed shut automatically when the annoying alarm sounded four hundred pounds a piece, if not more, and Roger knew that personally. They’d swung shut on him on more than one occasion.

He was vaguely irritated to see that the doors, were, in fact, open.

“Someone,” Roger remarked, “forgot to close the door.”

“My hunches were right; you are an idiot,” Unknown said, without turning back to face him.

Roger tried to remember to look wounded, failed, and contemplated burying the scissors in Unknown’s back.

“Don’t,” Unknown warned.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t stab me with the scissors, freak.”

“Freak? I’m not the one who looks like a old man under that overgrown ridiculous tuna-can that you’ve called armor,” Roger said. After a beat, just long enough to set up the gag, he added, “Shouldn’t you belong in a retirement center, this stuff is too much for someone your age.”

“Shut,” Unknown said, “up.”

Roger snipped the air again, continued to follow the mob boss down the hall, then out into reception, at which point a couple of things, or more like three, had struck him in quick succession. First, no one was working reception. No nurses. No orderlies. No security guards. No Warden Shaun Black. Second, there were bodies lying all over the floor that had resembled the staff and men that wore armor similar to Unknown that took him a second to recognize that they were his henchmen with what had appeared to be bullet holes on various parts of their bodies with a rather strange crimson liquid that was leaking from the bullet holes to form pools or puddles of blood, it took him a rather long moment to realize it was blood, but the third thing was what had truly caught his attention. The third and perhaps most important, the front doors were opened and several of Unknown’s thugs were standing at the doorway, carrying firearms.

“This place is secured, sir,” one of the guards said, “the last of the staff has been taken care of, I suggest we leave quickly before the authorities show up. We do not have enough manpower or ammunition to take on a direct force.”

“Good work, Captain,” Unknown said to him, grinning underneath his mask, “I’ll be sure to reward you for your valiant efforts, you are right though there isn’t much time left.”

“Has Negawing been found?”

“No, the report on his file had a death warrant included, I truly believe he had perished long ago, and strangely his girlfriend is missing from her cell, even when we had arrived she is already gone.”

“One of my scouts did said they had a visual when we arrived, they saw a black a harrier jet taking off before it came invisible. It had some sort of clocking technology that we were unable to detect.”

“Hmm,” Unknown rubbed his chin in thought, “We need to investigate this issue later.”

“This has to be some sort of joke,” Roger said, “Is it April Fools Day already? Or maybe,” he then gasped, looking quite awed, “Is it my birthday? A surprise party, okay guys come out, you can stop playing dead right now!”

“This guy is other incredibly stupid or insane,” A guard said, grunting, “or probably both.”

A third guard coughed to clear his throat, ignoring his comrade’s remark, “Shall I explain sir?”

“No, you’ve already done enough. Earlier today I had staged a massive assault to take complete control of the facility,” Unknown said, “Surely you’d heard of the gunfire when they were attacking.”

Roger frowned and snipped at the air again, trying to remember. He knew he was forgetting something, but could not placed his finger on it, this thinking was starting to hurt his head badly, and he hated it when that kind of thing happens to him. He had the impression that if he stabbed the old man now, he wouldn’t get the answer to his unspoken question, not to mention his bloody henchmen would shoot him to death for assaulting their employer.

Unknown continued, “I had lost a good amount of men and we were on the verge of losing, fortunately one of my men had accidentally destroyed the generators that are located in the lower floors, with the guards vision had been distorted my men activated their night vision goggles that had been installed in their helmets and we put an end to the battle in a matter of minutes. It always come to show you to be prepared for the worst the world would offer you.”

Something ticked at the back of Roger’s brain for a moment, and he chewed his lips trying to draw the idea out, it wasn’t through. So Roger turned to the nearest wall and bashed his forehead it against the cinder block.

“Ah!” Roger said. “That explains why the lights went out!”

“Exactly,” Unknown said simply.

Roger rubbed his forehead, trying to massage the rest of the memory free. The explosion that had woke him from his precious sleep, the lights going out seconds later, and the missing patients must have escaped when Unknown had declared war on the institution. He had thought that this had all been a realistic dream, but as he pinched himself he became aware that it wasn’t. He could continue his lifelong dream to spread unwanted, unnecessary misery to people’s lives as the Misery Maker. Or he could give up that life and dedicate his existence by helping others, maybe he should start by becoming a priest, he had made a lot of sins that could doom him in the afterlife. Nah, inflicting misery sounds much more fun, but first he needs to get something to eat, the prison food was almost horrible to consume. He could go for a tasty juice hamburger, or a meatball sub.

Then he realized he wanted neither of those things, he was in the mood for fired chicken. All he had to do was to find that blue-clad dolt and then he could make a meal out of him. And unfortunately for the sad hero he preferred his chicken raw, meaning alive. Then he paused, was Posiwing even a chicken? He knew he belong to a bird species so that was good enough for him.

Mmm…he could already taste that chicken right about now.

Roger checked the clock on the wall over the receptionist’s desk, his favorite, Sonia, wasn’t there and there were no signs of her body. That was a darn shame because now that he had his scissors, he’d have really had to talk with her about the way she cut her hair.

The clock read 11:58. Because it was dark out, Roger felt safe in adding “p.m.” to the calculation.

“Once we had took control of the prison, I had discovered there had been a backup generator online,” Unknown was saying, “It had enough power to keep the security online, so I ordered one of my men to hack into the computer, disabling the security measures, this letting all the convicts out before the generator had died.”

“That was awfully kind of you.”

“I didn’t do this out of the kindness of my heart, had I knew you would be here I’d let you rot. You deserved to be locked in your cell like a caged rodent.”

Roger snipped the air again, looking quite crestfallen, “That wasn’t a nice thing to say at all, you’d meant it when you said you would have left me here to die, did you?”

Unknown nodded slowly, as if trying to teach a very slow child.

“You’re a meanie head,” Roger hissed at him, “I don’t like you one bit.”

“I could care less what you’d think of me.”

“Yes, you do.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do!”

“No, I don’t!”

“Yes, you do and you won’t admit it since you’re angry, stupid old creep!”

“Watch it, fish, you are dangerously close to losing your life,” Unknown threatened as he then turned his back away from him, “I don’t have time to waste with the likes of you, I’ve got more important matters to intend to.”

“How about you drop dead?” Roger snarled, his words were dripped with venom.

As he was saying this he took his scissors and had rose it above his head, intending to kill Unknown when he froze in place, as he felt something hot being pressed against the side of his head. He gulped as he dropped the scissors to the ground, he was surrounded by guards from all sides, one of them even had the nerve to kick his scissors across the floor, away from his reach. All thoughts of stabbing the mob boss to death had vanished.

He then felt a hand being placed on his shoulder as if to comfort him; it had been the only indication of warning as he turned his head then Unknown was on him before he could think to move. He hit him, hard, again, and again, battering the small fish creature’s fish and feeling the bones shift and crack beneath the blows. He grabbed Roger by the throat and hoisted him into the air, and threw him against the wall.

“No one, and I mean no one threatens me and expects to walk away,” Unknown growled, his eyes were glinted with barely contained malice. “I am going to enjoy this, its not often when I’d beat the crap out of someone.”

Unknown punched Roger in the gut, doubling him over, then yanking his head back once more. He threw him to the cold, hard floor, then reached to grab him again, he brought his knee to slammed it against the fish’s side, and was satisfied to hear the sound of ribs cracking. He grabbed him by the neck again, spinning him around and slammed him to the wall once more, and then he punched him in the stomach. Groaning, Roger slumped against it.

He then whipped out his gun and brought it to the fish’s eye-level, Roger saw it and his eyes widened in horror at the sight of it. All it would take would be a pull from the trigger and the fish’s brains would splattered all over the floor, he would end the miserable slimeball’s life for attempting to claim his life!

“Please, don’t kill…me,” Roger managed to gasped out blood was running down his face.

“I would be doing the world a favor by ending your worthless life,” Unknown growled at him, but then he stepped away from him, “but you’re not worth it.”

For a moment Roger honestly thought he might cry with joke that he had been spared as he rose to his feet. But then he knew that something was wrong, Unknown still held the gun at his face, and he didn’t like the look in his eyes.

“Which is why I’d let him do the honors,” he chuckled deviously as he then tossed the gun at one of his guards, “Kill him,” he demanded, his voice was laced with a deadly chill that made Roger’s insides freeze.

“You can’t do this!” He cried, backing away, as if trying to separate the distance between them.

“I believe I’ve already have, no one would miss you anyway,” Unknown said, he then nodded to the guard.

The unnamed guard then shot Roger through the head. Roger hit the ground like a bag of wet flour, eyes wide open, and dead.

“Come, we have an empire to reclaim, and a hero to annihilate,” Unknown told his men.

He and his men then went down the stairs, crossed the manicured lawn to the front gates and then disappeared from view. It was not long after when the sounds of alarms were heard as swirling red and blue lights could be seen from the distance, indicating that the police were arriving at the Maximum Security Prison.

Jessica looked back at her husband, he was staring at the direction of the Maximum Security Prison was, she could make out the flashing blue and red lights in the distance. “Something happened there,” Posiwing said with a frown on his beak, he clenched his right hand into a fist. “I don’t like the looks of it, and if it’s just as I feared then it looks like its going to be one of those long nights.” He groaned, shaking his head as he massaged his forehead. He then brought out his ray gun, he knew the weapon had been empty since yesterday, he then started to reload it with energy charges from one of the many concealed pockets in his cape. He knew he would need them, he had only wished he would take at least one day off from crime-fighting, but he knew the city all too well that the criminal element would never take a single day off, and neither should he.

The radio on Jessica’s waist crackled, and though the volume was low the sound through the rooftop echoed: “Calling all available officers, Unknown has attacked the Maximum Security Prison, the body count is massive and dozens have been reported to be gravely injured, all the prisons and freaks have all escaped. I repeat: Unknown assaulted the facility and the prisons have all escaped, we’re requesting backup from all available officers.”

Posiwing let go of his wife’s hand, and took a step forward, this wasn’t the first time the majority of the convicts had escaped prison, and he knew they ‘d go back to cause trouble after all it was a well known fact that they’d return to the scene of the crime. But one thing had puzzled him, why did the crime boss attacked the prison in the first place? It didn’t sound like his M.O., and he had a suspicious feeling that things were about to get a whole lot worse, he never liked this one bit.

“It sounds like the city needs me,” he said, “I have a feeling I won’t get any rest tonight. I know Unknown is up to his old tricks again, and I’ll stop his sinister, sadistic scheme before he succeeds it. I intend to keep this city safe from the likes of him with every breath spent trying. These conniving criminals will be captured; their little reign of terrors won’t last long. You know it, I know it. Eventually they will be caught and send back to their natural habitat – jail! I know I might be asking a lot from you but I need your help, I can’t do this alone without you.”

He then turned back to face her just in time to see her pinned the badge to her shirt, she had looked heroic with her gold shield on. “And I’ll be at your side where I belong, after all we both know you’d need someone to look after you,” she said, “and don’t forget this,” she added, she then placed something in his hands.

Posiwing grinned at her, he knew his life would have been different if things didn’t happened the way they were, he would have been an officer instead of a vigilante, it had been the first thing he’d wanted to become when he stepped out of college but due to major occurrences, everything had changed that dream. At least he would still placed criminals behind bars and not to mention wear the badge his wife had given him for his last birthday, a gift the chief had authorized after he had stopped Unknown and toppled his empire a decade ago.

“Thanks, I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he had remarked.

“I would,” she said with a sly grin on her face, “but we don’t have time to waste.”

“I know, its time to protect and to serve,” Posiwing said, always wanting to say that line. He then stepped on the ledge, “see you at the crime scene.” He then jumped off and landed on the building next to the SPC Central from where she stood, and was already running and soon he was already out of her sight.

“Becareful, Dustin,” she said softly, “it’s a dangerous world out there,” even though she knew he didn’t need it, but she feared that one day hewouldn’t be to careful and something terrible could happen to him, he had made a lot of enemies than friends during his career as Posiwing. That would likely be his downfall and then she would be forced to raise their children by herself, as they grew up without a father in their lives.

But she can’t think about it right now, she had work to do. She knew he would come back to her after his nightly patrol, always have, always will.

She took one last glance back at the direction where he had took off, she couldn’t bear the thought of losing him, without him she felt that life wasn’t worth living, and she knew he had felt the same way about her. She hoped hat day would never happen, for both of their sakes. She then headed for the door off the roof, back downstairs then to her police cruisers. Seconds later, she had drove towards the prison and was gone.
"You want to know something funny? Even after everything you've done... I would have saved you." - Batman

"That actually is... pretty funny.""- Joker
(Batman to Joker before the latter's death in Arkham City video game, 2011)

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