Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Unsuccessful nights like this made Liquidator question why he was a criminal in the first place. Was it really worth the plots, the thrill of being chased if Darkwing Duck was always there to thwart their every move? It was supposed to be a simple robbery, but boy did they make every mistake in the book. Luckily, he had evaded the police and the caped crusader, but not without a struggle. He imagined Megavolt’s bail would be posted soon.

Liquidator was in a horrible mood as he quietly approached the greenhouse. He couldn’t help but wonder if things could have gone differently if his boyfriend had been on the scene. Though Bushroot didn’t bring a lot of brawn to the equation, he usually had better plans. Whether or not they could execute them was an entirely different story. 

Just as he approached the door, it occurred to Liquidator that the greenhouse lights were off. It was strange to him because, despite the late hour, he had fully expected Bushroot to have been working well into the night. It was always a battle to get him to turn off the lights before Liquidator went to sleep. Even more so during the past few months. 

Two possibilities ran through his mind; either Bushroot had already gone to sleep, or he was out for a late night errand of sorts. So Liquidator unlocked the door and let himself in to look around. 

Just then, Liquidator felt a vine wrapping tightly around his wrist and waist, jerking him inside where he heard the door slam and lock behind him. “Whoa—!” he began to shout as he was pulled towards the floor behind the couch. Soon he was face to face with Bushroot. 

“Reggie, what the—“

“Shhhh…” 

The Liquidator watched as Bushroot’s vines retracted back to his body. He searched across his face to try and find an answer as to why he looked so terrified. Reggie’s blue eyes were wide like saucers, his purple hair disheveled and his green feathers were as pale as he had ever seen them. It was hard to tell in the dark, but Liquidator could have sworn some of his feathers were missing in places as well. 

Then there was a small clatter from the other end of the greenhouse. Liquidator’s long ears perked at the sound, registering it as something coming from their kitchen. “Reggie what was—“ he began to ask. 

“Shh, shh,” Bushroot whispered, “Please, Bud, I need your help but you’ve gotta stay quiet.”

Liquidator lowered his voice as his partner instructed, “Where’s Spike?” 

“Outside.”

“Okay... then I’ll ask again; what was that, Bushroot?” he asked in a harsher tone, trying to be quiet and patient. 

“Well… I um… You, uh… I’ve been, um,” Bushroot stammered. 

Another clash of metal came from across the way along with some soft snarls that echoed through the glass greenhouse. Liquidator was almost fifty percent sure some kind of wild animal had gotten trapped inside the house. He left the other fifty percent up to whatever the hell Bushroot had been up to for the past few weeks. Either way, he wasn’t going to let it continue ripping apart the house. 

So then the water mutant stood to his full height and began to walk towards the noises. Bushroot wanted to stop him, but he had caught a glimpse of the determination in his dark blue eyes. Instead, he meekly rose up from the ground and followed close behind. 

The moment he leaned passed the doorway of the kitchen, Liquidator and Bushroot flinched terribly at the loud sound of pots and pans scattering to the floor. Once the sounds had settled, Liquidator reached into a drawer and brought out a flashlight, willing the water surrounding it to become firm. He was tired of not being able to see where he was going, but he kept it off for now.

After a beat, Liquidator heard wet slapping sounds scrambling across the floor. The room was almost too dark, but he saw a small figure move to dart into a corner. It was low to the ground, but from what Liquidator could tell, it’s limbs seemed far too long to be naturally quadrupedal. 

While it was still huddled away and cornered, Liquidator and Bushroot approached cautiously. Then with a small ‘click’, Liquidator turned on the light.

“Bud—!” Bushroot called out to him, but it was too late. 

The creature Liquidator had cast a light on was unlike anything he had ever seen, though he had only mere moments to see it. From what he could tell it looked like a small green duck who had fallen into a swamp, with long, haunting eyes and a yellow beak full of sharp teeth. The creature let out an unearthly hissing sound and launched itself directly at Liquidator. The mutant allowed the duck to slip right through him and even watched as it scurried out of the kitchen. 

Liquidator was in a state of shock. He looked over and pointed the flashlight directly at Bushroot’s face. “Reggie…. what the hell was that?” he asked. 

“It’s…” Bushroot struggled to say it, but the words finally came out, “it’s an experiment of mine.”

“Of course it is. You’re gonna fill me in as soon as we catch this thing, got it?” Liquidator asked.

Bushroot simply nodded in agreement and followed Liquidator back to the living room. Across the way they could hear the leaves rustling from deep inside the unruly forest. 

“Have you thought about how to capture this thing?” Liquidator asked quickly.

“I tried using my vines but he almost ripped them to pieces,” Bushroot said, sadly holding up his arms and displaying his wounds.

Liquidator felt a small pang of panic at the sight, but swallowed it in favor of trying to figure things out. “Ok, well, do you have a cage?” he asked.

“We can’t cage him!” Bushroot shouted.

There were days when Bud actually found Reggie’s hippie attitude endearing, but this was definitely not one of those times. “Well then what do you want to do with it?” Liquidator asked through his teeth.

Bushroot looked around wildly as he thought desperately. “Uh- uh- Ah! What if we keep him suspended in your water?” he asked.

Liquidator gave a small sigh and turned into the woods. “Fine, fine. Just move these plants out of the way,” he commanded.

Without another word, Bushroot began to control the plants to move around them. “I think he’s trying to find the lab again, or some other kind of source for water,” Bushroot informed his companion. 

“Makes sense, you somehow always manage to create plant creatures,” Liquidator said, pointing the flashlight around while he watched the plants create their path through.

“Well it’s an improvement on a previous serum I was working on a few years ago--” Bushroot nearly started to fall into a tangent had Liquidator not stopped in his tracks. 

Just ahead, there was a clearing that Bushroot hadn’t made. It was full of tall grass with an old antique fountain rising slightly higher. On top of it, sitting just inside the lip of the fountain was the creature with its back turned towards them. From what Liquidator could tell, he noted that the monster had some sort of large shell like a sea-turtle.

Liquidator quietly handed Bushroot the flashlight, keeping it pointed down and away from the creature. Then he lowered his arms to the garden floor, just under the grass and closer towards it. There was a deafening silence, save for the slurping coming from the creature as it consumed the fountain’s water. Carefully, Liquidator pushed his arms out from the grass. He drew some water from the ground and his body as he enlarged his hands. The shadow from his hands cast over the creature, causing it to whirl around and hiss. While it was hissing, Liquidator lunged for it, only for the creature to dart out of the way.

Liquidator cursed under his breath as he watched the creature run through the field and into a hedge of bushes. Both Liquidator and Bushroot ran after it in hot pursuit. As they closed the gap, they noticed the wall of the greenhouse looming closer, as well as the backdoor. 

“Reggie, I think it’s going to try door number one!” Liquidator shouted.

At lightning speeds, Bushroot’s vines and the plants surrounding it snaked towards the door and began to entangle the door shut. Just when they thought they had the upper hand, however, the sound of glass shattering rang through their ears as they watched the creature barrel through the wall of the greenhouse. 

The two stopped in their tracks and assessed the damage. “Holy shit,” Liquidator breathed. 

After a second Bushroot allowed the vines on the door to release, he opened the door and ran straight through. “We’ve gotta catch him before anyone else does, come on,” he shouted.

RUN.

RUN. RUN. RUN.

That’s all that went through the creature’s mind as he ran across the moonlit field behind the greenhouse. The desire to escape his captors outweighed everything else on his mind. 

Past the meadow, everywhere he turned there were bright lights, tall buildings and roaring machines. The stimulation was enough to send him running faster and faster. 

The creature collided with a few disgruntled city goers but none knocked him down harder than an elderly woman who had been blissfully unaware of the commotion he had been causing amongst the crowd behind them. 

Once his butt had hit the ground, their eyes met and immediately the lady began to swing her purse directly at him. Alarmed by her weapon of choice and the shouting that followed suit, the creature held his arms in front of his face. He looked around wildly until he found a large metal pole with a metal plate at the end. After wrapping its arms around the pole once, twice and again for a third and final time, the creature uprooted the stop sign and began to wield it into the terrified crowd. 

Not too far behind, Bushroot and Liquidator looked on in horror at the chaos that was unfolding. “Just what the hell is this thing made of?” Liquidator asked.

“W- well, some spare parts here and there—“

“Reggie!”

“M- my DNA, mostly!” 

“Well then, take care of this!” 

Bushroot felt as though Liquidator said it like he had planned for this to happen, which was far beyond the truth. He shot a small glare at Liquidator before he did as he was asked. Bushroot whipped his arms out and at the creature, grabbed a hold of the stop sign and tried to pull it from his grasp. Onlookers began to scream and scatter at the sight of Bushroot playing tug-o-war with the monster. 

The struggle caused Bushroot to halt in his tracks so he could produce more force on the stop sign. However, it wasn’t budging so easily. “Bud! Help!” he called out in a strained voice.

Liquidator got closer to the creature and used his powers to try and ensnare the small duck. As soon as he saw the water creeping over his body, the frightened creature let go of the stop sign. The pull from Bushroot’s arms caused the stop sign to fly towards him and hit him square in the face. 

Before Liquidator could will the water surrounding the creature to harden, he felt a small force pushing against it until his mass broke apart. The creature broke free and scrambled away from them again. 

Apparently, this creature didn’t just have Bushroot’s DNA. The Liquidator turned and walked towards Bushroot who was nursing his head on the sidewalk. He offered his hand and pulled the duck to his feet. “Mostly your DNA, huh?” he asked.

Bushroot felt a deep blush bloom across his beak. “W- well, I may have used… some of... yours as well…” he said softly, positively embarrassed.

A small sigh escaped from Liquidator, unsure of how he felt knowing his DNA was running through that creature’s veins. “Let’s get after it,” he said, gesturing for Bushroot to follow him.

“Him.”

Liquidator turned back, “Him?” he asked almost in disbelief.

“Yes, him,” Bushroot corrected further. 

“Fine, him. Let’s go and get him,” Liquidator repeated in a frustrated tone.

The two mutants started their search up and down Saint Canard’s streets. They didn’t have to stretch their imaginations far, as they simply had to follow the chorus of screams and shouts by innocent civilians. However, before they could pinpoint the creature, those particular sounds stopped. 

At the end of a block, Liquidator and Bushroot looked around wildly in their vain attempt to find some kind of inkling as to where the creature had gone. Liquidator lifted his nose into the air and noted a strong smell of chlorine amongst the smog and musk of the city.

From across the way, there was a dark and abandoned park. The two mutants looked at each other and nodded just before crossing the street. They kept their eyes peeled while they surveyed the area. Then they stumbled upon a large, still pond. 

After staring at it for a long while, they noticed bubbles started to surface. They knew exactly where the creature was. 

The Liquidator looked absolutely disgusted. “I’m not going in there, I’d have to purify myself for a whole week,” he said with a shiver in his voice.

Bushroot simply sighed and walked directly into the pond. At its deepest, the water came about his waist. As he maneuvered through the slime and muck, he extended his arms to feel the pond’s floor. 

“Hey lil guy… come on out, we won’t hurt you…” Bushroot said in a gentle tone.

Just then, Liquidator’s ears perked at the sound of Bushroot giving out a soft hum. He looked on in awe as he saw the duck wade through the water under the moonlit sky, humming softly in hopes of coaxing the creature out. 

“A little late for a swim, don’t you think, Dr. Bushroot?” a voice suddenly shouted.

“Oh no,” Liquidator breathed, looking wildly around his surroundings. 

“I am the terror that flaps in the night…” it continued.

Instinctively, Bushroot ducked down into the water to try and hide. 

“I am the cramp you get while swimming thirty minutes after you ate…” from the shadows amongst a small cloud of purple smoke, appeared a figure. The caped crusader stood on top of the bridge that crossed the pond Bushroot was currently occupying. “I am, Darkwing Duck!” he exclaimed.

Chapter Text

As if the night couldn’t get any worse, Darkwing Duck was perched in front of them. He crossed his arms and looked down at Bushroot who was still cowering inside the pond water. “Park’s closed, in case you couldn’t tell,” he said.

“We just lost something, that’s all,” Liquidator told him.

Darkwing looked quizzically at the dog. “Didn’t I catch you robbing a bank earlier tonight with Quackerjack and Megavolt?”

“Survey says, you failed to catch me, otherwise I wouldn’t even be here,” Liquidator told him.

“I bet you hid the cash you stole right here in this pond,” Darkwing began to deduce.

“You’d be wrong about that, I left empty handed—”

“Doesn’t matter,” Darkwing interrupted as he brandished his gas gun, “because I’ve got you and Bushroot right where I wa—!“ The two mutants watched the caped hero fall as he was tackled into the pond.

Darkwing shortly surfaced and sputtered out as much of the pond water as he could. Before he had time to relax, the creature emerged and was attacking him. He struggled with the creature, trying to keep it at arm’s length inside the water.

Bushroot tried to help the creature by wrapping his vines around his and Darkwing’s waist. He pulled the two away, just out of each other’s each. “W- what? Whoa! Hey, let me go! Just what the heck is that thing?” he asked in a higher octave.

“Bud, now,” Bushroot called out.

Immediately, Liquidator placed his hands on the surface of the pond and the water quickly turned solid. He shook the pond’s murky water from his hands and walked along the surface. Bud willed the water surrounding Bushroot to liquify once more and pulled him out of the pond with ease.

Darkwing struggled against the solidified water, looking at the swamp creature dead in the eyes. He watched in mild terror as Liquidator unearthed the child, but only just enough so he could still be suspended.

It was here that Darkwing was able to take a closer look at the creature. Interestingly enough, he noted the stringy hair wasn’t just wet but it was some kind of algae and so was his tail. The kid’s body was also made up of something akin to a sea turtle. The hands were webbed together like a frog, and his feet were in the shapes of lily pads. The combination was strange but eerily fascinating.

“Oh Dylan…” Bushroot breathed and collapsed to the creature’s side.

Liquidator couldn’t believe what he had just heard, “Dylan? I’m sorry, Reginald, but did you name him?” he asked.

The creature growled and snapped his beak in Bushroot’s direction, despite his best efforts to comfort the rabid duck.

“I uh… well,” Bushroot looked positively embarrassed, “while I was working on him I… started talking to him and it jus’ sorta… happened, eventually.”

“Another one of your plant abominations, I see,” Darkwing interrupted while he continued to struggle against the solid material.

“You take that back, fiend, my Dylan is the perfect hybrid of plant and duck,” Bushroot defended.

“Oh yeah, truly at the peak of the evolutionary chain. I can tell he’s just filled to the brim with intelligence,” Darkwing said sarcastically while he watched the child continue to growl, hiss and foam at the mouth.

Liquidator rolled his eyes as Bushroot opened his mouth to talk back. “Reggie, he’s just stalling so his little sidekicks can show up, now let’s go,” he told him.

“I don’t know what it is with you villains and creating kids left and right, but if you think that creature has a chance of a normal life you’re kidding yourselves,” Darkwing interjected.

Bushroot felt hurt by those words, but failed to say anything in return. He looked at Dylan, knowing full well he had brought another creature into the world that would inevitably feel his pain. The pain of loneliness, fear and anger towards a world that would reject him.

Liquidator simply looked confused, “There are more villains with kids?” he asked while he grabbed a hold of Dylan and hoisted him over his shoulder. The child was still snarling, but encased safely.

“I’m surprised you didn’t know your closest compatriots have their own windup toy. I hope you never meet him,” Darkwing said in a haunted voice.

Bushroot and Liquidator looked quizzically at each other and gave a small shrug before turning and walking away. “Well... catch you later, Dorkwing,” Bushroot called out.

“How original,” Darkwing muttered under his breath.

The two began to march their way back to the greenhouse with their little monster in tow. As they walked, Bushroot broke the silence, “Gee, who knew that Quackerjack and Megavolt had their own kid?”

“Makes sense for them. I’ve always thought of Quackerjack having a soft spot for kids and I feel like Megavolt would do just about anything to keep that crazy duck around,” Liquidator said.

“Do you… think it makes sense, for us?” Bushroot asked in a sheepish tone.

Liquidator could feel his face grow warmer and the bubbles begin to rise to his cheeks. “I feel like we’re having this conversation too little too late,” he said in a bitter tone.

“Well I—“

Knowing Bushroot was about to launch himself into a tangent, Liquidator interrupted, “Can we save this for when we get home?” he asked, clearly tired.

At that, Bushroot fell silent while they walked along. Liquidator had already been in a mood from the failed heist. Having to chase the small monster around Saint Canard certainly hadn’t helped. Talking about this kind of subject without being in the comfort of his home was not the way things were going to improve his attitude. Besides, it gave him more time to reflect on things.

Was this something he really wanted? A kid to take care of? The thought was terrifying to think about.

When they crossed the threshold, Liquidator turned to Bushroot, “Where do we put him?” he asked.

“My lab, come on,” Bushroot told him.

Liquidator followed his partner to his laboratory through the forest line. When he entered he took a look around. The lab was in a shambled state with broken chemistry supplies, tousled papers and other objects strewn about. It almost looked like a hurricane had blown through, but Liquidator knew he was holding the source of the destruction in his arms.

Bushroot bent down and overturned a heavy metal table back onto its legs and patted the surface. “Right on here,” he instructed.

With that, Liquidator did as he was told and lifted the petrified child onto the table. The two of them looked at Dylan, watching him as he continued to growl and hiss softly. Bushroot noticed how tired he looked and sounded. “Aww… look, he’s all tuckered out,” he said with a soft smile.

“Figures. We chased him up and down all of Saint Canard, of course he’s tired. I’m tired,” Liquidator said and turned away.

However, Liquidator stopped in his tracks the moment he heard Bushroot begin to hum once more. He looked back and saw Bushroot leaning against the table, dangerously close to Dylan, continuing to hum to him. Liquidator couldn’t help but notice just how calm Bushroot’s demeanor was, his leafy tail was even swishing back and forth.

As the child began to drift to sleep, Liquidator knew right then that there was no turning back for Bushroot.

They exited the lab together and Bushroot locked the door behind them. As they walked through the forest towards their bedroom, Liquidator broke the silence. “I’m going to need you to start from the beginning, Reggie,” he requested.

“Well…” Bushroot began, “I believe the next step in our evolution is--”

“Plants, I know. You talk about this every other day. How all of us are better off as plants and mutation is a logical step to adapt. I’m talking about this kid, specifically, Reggie.”

“Okay… Well, there’s a serum that I’ve used a few times before. I call it IQ2U,” Bushroot explained, ”It takes living matter and mutates it into a plant-based life form. I’ve used it on plants before. It uses my DNA and I’ve been trying to perfect it. The series of experiments I’ve been running recently involve using the serum on other creatures, besides plants—”

“Am I going to find this kid on any missing posters?” Liquidator stopped in his tracks and looked directly at Bushroot.

“No!” Bushroot shouted, “I got all of the necessary... parts from a resurrectionist.”

“A grave robber…” Liquidator corrected, surprised by his boyfriend’s resourcefulness.

“R- Right… I had his brain, head and arms, I just… had to improvise a little when it came to some of the other parts.”

“A regular Frankenstein’s monster, huh? So why did you use my DNA?”

“Well, I’ve noticed sometimes I can dry out in places if I don’t watch my water intake. So… I thought your DNA could somehow help rejuvenate him,” Bushroot explained, “That’s the uh… scientific reason.”

“And the other reason?” Liquidator asked, though he was pretty sure he knew the answer.

Liquidator witnessed a blush bloom across Bushroot’s yellow beak. “I thought, maybe, you might want to help raise him?” he asked, wincing as though he was bracing for some kind of impact.

There it was, the question that was underlying the events of the evening. The question that had been haunting Liquidator from the start. “I feel like you didn’t give me much of a choice,” he admitted.

“You still have one,” Bushroot told him with a slight panic in his voice, “I won’t force you into it, that- that wasn’t what I wanted at all. I wanted to have a conversation about it, I just- I didn’t know when to bring it up.”

Liquidator wasn’t sure how much he believed Bushroot. The duck had lived a very lonely life prior to their relationship. One where he had gone so far as to create his own plant-based companions. Spike included. Still, he continued to listen carefully.

“I didn’t expect him to wake up this early, honestly,” Bushroot admitted, “I was only running some tests to see if his limbs were connected properly.”

“Well, you connected them alright,” Liquidator laughed a little.

Bushroot failed to respond. He only looked at Liquidator expectantly, worriedly, waiting with baited breath for any form of an answer. Registering that, Liquidator sighed, “I’ll let you know my answer soon. For now, I’ll try to help with what I can. Just let The Liquidator know what he can do for you,” he finished and turned away.

Hearing that made Bushroot’s heart sink a little bit. He was thankful that Liquidator was willing to help, but he was starting to feel scared. He honestly couldn’t picture his life without Liquidator. Bushroot had always longed for a normal life, even while he was in his mutant state. While it wasn’t the perfect nuclear family model, Bushroot strived towards the means of creating his own.

Bushroot watched as Liquidator disappeared into their bedroom without another word. It was now that he started to realize it might have been a bit selfish to assume that Liquidator wanted the same for his life. Despite being together for nearly two and a half years, they never once discussed getting married, let alone children. Bushroot had only assumed this was a logical progression.

“We… We aren’t getting any younger, Buddy,” Bushroot said, approaching the doorway.

Looking inside, he saw Liquidator stop midway from climbing into his aquarium to turn back to Bushroot. “And by the looks of it; we aren’t getting that much older, either. We could be immortal for all you know.”

“I doubt we’re immortal. Aging a lot slower than most, maybe, but nothing lasts forever,” Bushroot told him.

“Okay, I understand. Just let me think things over, alright?” Liquidator asked while he slipped inside the aquarium.

It was one of the downsides of Liquidator’s mutation; he couldn’t keep his form while he was unconscious. So to help him, Bushroot installed a large water tank as a substitute for a bed. Sure, it made some nights a little lonely, but with Bushroot’s bed parallel to the tank, things were a little easier. Bushroot turned off the main lights and burrowed himself into his bed.

Illuminated by the soft aquarium lights, Bushroot watched as Liquidator made himself comfortable enough to begin to fall asleep. Not long after, Bushroot also drifted off with his palm pressed against the glass.

When Liquidator awoke the next day, he resurfaced to the top of his aquarium and leaned over Bushroot’s bed. He paused there, eyes closed and puckered lips, fully expecting a small and tired kiss from his partner.

After a beat, Liquidator opened his weary eyes and found Bushroot’s bed to be empty. He huffed a little to himself before he climbed out of the aquarium.

Liquidator trailed to the kitchen first, but after finding no signs of movement inside he continued to look elsewhere. After checking the dining area, the living room and even the dense forest, he still couldn’t find Bushroot.

The lab, of course. Liquidator reasoned.

Liquidator made his way towards the laboratory. Without any major concern, he opened the lab door. Immediately he saw something barrel out the door and realized he might regret not knocking first.

“Bud! Why the heck would you do that?” Bushroot exclaimed as he pulled himself up off the floor, using the steel table as leverage.

“Because I forgot we weren’t living alone anymore,” Liquidator said.

Then Bushroot remembered, “We didn’t block the glass he broke through last night, did we?” he asked.

“...Well, shit.”

Chapter Text

Liquidator began to bolt towards the other end of the greenhouse where the kid had rushed off to, but stopped in his tracks when he saw Bushroot head in a different direction. “Where are you—?”

“I’m gonna find something to get him back inside, you keep an eye on him and make sure he doesn’t get past the yard!” Bushroot called quickly.

Liquidator said nothing else on the matter. He ran as fast as he could through the foliage and trees. Along the way, he couldn’t help but think about how he could be better spending his time if he wasn’t chasing this feral child up and down the greenhouse. Still, the fact that this child was a product of his DNA loomed over him.

When Liquidator reached the backdoor and swung it open he noticed that the kid hadn’t gotten as far as last time. 

A few feet in front of him was Spike, their large sentient venus flytrap, growling deeply at Dylan. All the while Dylan was on all fours, growling back, bearing his teeth and his seaweed tail shaking violently in what Liquidator assumed was supposed to be some kind of threatening display. Then Spike began to bark at Dylan and, much to Liquidator’s amusement, Dylan began to bark back in a higher-pitch. 

About a minute later, Bushroot emerged from the backdoor with some food in hand. “Is… is he… barking?” Bushroot couldn’t help but ask. 

“Oh yeah he is,” Liquidator laughed, doing absolutely nothing to stop it. 

Bushroot shook his head and approached Spike and Dylan slowly. Liquidator took note of the unwrapped string cheese in Bushroot’s hand. “Easy now, boys, calm down,” Bushroot said softly, coming closer to his trusted flytrap’s side. 

Dylan flinched and began to growl more when he saw Bushroot come into his view. He watched intently with his wide eyes as Bushroot calmed Spike down with the touch of his hand on the large creature’s snout. Spike ceased to growl when his master began to pet him in a soothing manner. 

Sensing less hostility, Dylan stopped growling and sat down on the backyard floor. Bushroot smiled at the progress he had made. “That’s it, Dylan. This is Spike. We like Spike,” he said. 

Dylan looked confused for the most part. That much was obvious from the way he tilted his head. He watched intently as Spike licked Bushroot’s cheek and the duck gave out a small laugh. 

LIKE SPIKE. Dylan noted. 

“See? He won’t hurt you, I promise,” Bushroot said. 

Dylan crawled closer on the grass and held out his hand to the creature. He kept it hovered over Spike for a short while before Bushroot gently took it and placed it down onto the flytrap. Spike began to purr and chirp in approval as Dylan began to pet him. 

Bushroot felt his heart melt as he watched Dylan’s beak split into a sharp toothy grin. “Bud, we need to let him roam the greenhouse,” Bushroot decided.

Liquidator felt confused about this decision. “So he can mess up the kitchen again? Maybe tear up the couch this time?” he asked. 

Bushroot looked at Liquidator and let go of Dylan’s hand, “I can’t just keep him cooped up in the lab. I might as well put him in a cage. I’ve been observing him all wrong. In order to gain more data, I need him in a bigger environment with more stimuli for him to absorb information.”

“You’re speaking geek to me,” Liquidator said, which was his way of telling his partner that he wasn’t entirely sure what was being said. 

Bushroot tossed Liquidator another tube of string cheese, “Just help me get him inside so we can fix the greenhouse wall.” 

Together, the two coaxed Dylan back inside the greenhouse. It wasn’t hard to do once they gave Dylan a few pieces of the cheese. Bushroot began to understand his son’s learning capabilities far greater than when he was busy examining him in the lab. 

Once they were inside, Liquidator turned to Bushroot, “Does this mean we’ll need to baby-proof the greenhouse?” he asked. 

Bushroot shut the door and gave Dylan the rest of the string cheese. He watched as Dylan sat down on the greenhouse floor to eat, “Most likely, yes. We’ll also need more food and supplies. I was thinking we could put a pond where the fountain is,” he trailed, his mind running down a whole list of ideas. 

Liquidator saw Bushroot command a mound of lilyturf to weave in on itself and make a patch to cover the hole in the glass wall. “Nice mat, but I doubt that’ll keep him from making it his own personal doggy door,” he said, unimpressed. 

“It’s temporary,” Bushroot decided, “I’ll keep him busy and you’ll be the one to go out and get a more permanent fix.”

“Oh will I now?”

“...Pretty please?” Bushroot asked in a meek voice.

Liquidator didn’t say another word. Instead, he raised a hand and made a beckoning motion with his finger. Bushroot realized what was being asked of him straight away. He moved closer to Liquidator until he felt the movement of Bud’s cool water ripple across the open palms of his hands. He spotted a flash of a smile appear across Liquidator’s face before he closed his eyes and craned his beak upwards. Bud wasted no time in giving the duck a kiss and another smaller kiss for good measure. 

“Hmm… I guess I could, if you guarantee to give me more than I bargained for when I get back,” Liquidator said in a sultry tone.

Bushroot felt a blush bloom across his face. “Y- yeah, sure,” he said softly, shyly. Out of the corner of his eye, Bushroot saw Dylan’s figure move further into the greenhouse. “I’ll text you a list, love you!” he called as he went to chase after the tyke. 

Liquidator’s smile disappeared as soon as Bushroot did. He then turned towards the door and stepped out of the greenhouse. 

Back inside, Bushroot had already lost sight of Dylan amongst the greenhouse plants and tall grass. He tried to look closely to try and find any movement in the surrounding plants. It was hard to do, considering how green Dylan was. 

Suddenly, Bushroot felt all the wind leave his lungs as he was knocked to the grassy floor. His beak ate some dirt before he pulled himself up with his arms. That’s when he noticed Dylan had climbed on his back, smiling triumphantly, obviously proud of himself at being able to sneak up and tackle him. 

“Oh so it’s like that, huh?” Bushroot asked with a smile on his face. 

Bushroot sat up and reached for Dylan, but he proved to be too fast. He darted out of the way and dove right back into the grass. This time, Bushroot was able to spot where the kid was headed. He trailed behind as they ran around the forest floor together. 

Bushroot secretly hoped that by playing around the greenhouse, Dylan would feel less inclined to leave. Playing with Dylan like this also meant more of a chance to observe him and how he interacted with his surroundings. Whenever he slowed down to look at something, Bushroot stayed behind to silently study him taking in the surroundings. One thing Bushroot noted right off the bat was that Dylan was inclined to climb the trees he came across. It was something he hadn’t anticipated, but certainly didn’t want to discourage it. 

Normally, Bushroot was a lecturer when it came to teaching others about nature. But at this point, when it came to Dylan, Bushroot was simply a passive observer. He didn’t want to overwhelm the child. That, and he found himself positively enjoying watching Dylan explore his surroundings on the forest floor. 

Upon further observation, Bushroot noted how gentle Dylan was. While he had snapped and hissed at them the previous night, he was showing almost little to no signs of that behavior now. Even when he looked at the small insects and creatures around the greenhouse, they were met with a silent curiosity Bushroot hadn’t really seen before.  

Midway through making notes and cataloging video with his phone at a safe distance, Bushroot heard rapid knocking coming from the front door. Dylan instinctively jumped and hid inside the nearest bush. Just like that, the boy was out of his sight. 

The rapping was louder as Bushroot emerged from the forest line and headed for the door. “Alright, hold your begonias,” Bushroot called out. 

When he opened the door he saw an obviously tired and slightly panicked looking Quackerjack at his doorstep. In the jester’s arms, sitting on one hip, was what looked like a small mouse with a mess of red hair in blue overalls and a yellow shirt. The kid’s piercing red eyes were locked directly onto Bushroot as Quackerjack spoke. 

“Hey hey, Bushroot! It’s good to see ya, you mind if we come in?” he asked, though he gave Bushroot no time to give him permission as he darted through the door frame. 

At that moment, Bushroot recalled Darkwing’s words the previous night: “I’m surprised you didn’t know your closest compatriots have their own windup toy. I hope you never meet him.”

“Is that…?” Bushroot asked softly as he closed the door behind them.

“Oh! I guess you haven’t met Chunky-Monkey yet, huh,” Quackerjack said, whirling around so Bushroot could get a closer look. That’s when he pieced together that the child, who was latched onto the duck for dear life, was actually some kind of robot. It was only telling from just a few key factors that Bushroot took notice of: his yellow and red eyes were sunken in, the stems of his ears were metallic and the latex on his face wasn’t porous like normal skin.

“Bushroot, meet Chuckie. Chuckie, say hi to Bushroot!” Quackerjack chirped. It was unnerving to Bushroot how absolutely empty and unblinking Chuckie’s stare was. He was starting to wonder if the robot was even active. “He’s a little shy, but I’m sure he’ll come around! Say, is the pool boy here?” Quackerjack asked, looking around, the bells from his hat tails ringing. 

The question caused Bushroot to tear his gaze away from Chuckie, “Liquidator? No. I sent him out on some errands, why?” he asked.

“Oh just some unfinished business from last night cropped up, that’s all,” Quackerjack said with a small giggle in his inflection, “Besides that, Megavolt is still in jail and I need to pick him up. He’s the one who can drive; I handle the explosives. So do you mind if I leave our lil guy with you until I pick his dad up?”

“Not at all, Quackerjack,” Bushroot said, gleaming from Quackerjack’s hint about explosives meant that they would be more than likely skipping Megavolt’s bail. 

“Oh! Thank you, Bushroot. Thank you, you’re an absolute lifesaver,” Quackerjack praised as he began to unglue the small rodent from his hip. The death grip Chuckie had on Quackerjack’s clothes was worrisome. Still, he began to talk him down, “Now, Chuckie, I’ll only be gone for a little while.”

“But where’s Dad?” Finally, the child spoke. His voice was small but gritty, something Reggie chalked up to a metallic echo from his interior frame.

“I told you before, Papa has to go pick up Daddy from his jail cell. I won’t be long, you just need to stay here and be on your best behavior,” Quackerjack told him. 

“I wanna go an’ see Dad!” Chuckie said in a more demanding tone. 

“Sweetie, you’ll see Dad when we get back. For now, you’ll be here with Bushroot. I promise, you’ll have lots of fun. Now let go of Papa,” Quackerjack encouraged.

Chuckie glared at Quackerjack, but finally released his grip. The robotic mouse sat down in the middle of the living room rug with his arms crossed and his ears down low. 

Quackerjack sighed with relief and turned towards Bushroot. “Normally, when Megs and I go out on heists, we just let him shut down and recharge his batteries,” he explained as he began to make his way to the front door, “After Chuckie woke up this morning, he was quite the handful without Megs and I don’t even know where the off button is!” Quackerjack let out another giggle, “Literally, Megs installed an off button. Or maybe it was a switch?”

Bushroot finally saw the opportune moment to share his latest accomplishment, “You know, recently Liquidator and I—“

Just then, a sound of squealing laughter came from seemingly nowhere. Quackerjack pulled out a phone from the pocket of his jester outfit, “Megs, babe, I told you I’ll be there soon! …No of course Chuckie isn’t with me, he’s with Bushroot, he’ll be fine,” he explained and with that he walked out of the greenhouse door. 

Bushroot closed the door and sighed a little to himself. He wasn’t even sure how to handle one kid, let alone two. The thought was mildly terrifying, but he reassured himself that as long as he could keep both of them at opposite ends of the greenhouse, he would be fine. After all, he didn’t know Chuckie’s temperament and he knew Dylan was in no state to socialize with anyone he was unfamiliar with. 

“Okay Chuckie, let’s…” Bushroot began, but the words died in his throat when he noticed the robotic child had moved from his spot in the living room. Bushroot looked around wildly and saw Chuckie’s metallic tail disappear into the brush line. 

Meanwhile, Liquidator was running into his own slew of problems. As someone who recently robbed a bank and was usually busy being a mutant who kept to the shadows, walking into a hardware store midday was not the most sensible thing to do. However, Liquidator was smarter than that; he had more resources at his disposal. Sure he had henchmen, but none were more loyal and under his thumb than Patrick Easton. 

“I’m sorry, you want me to do what now?” the dog asked from behind his big oak desk with a plaque that read: Bud Flud. 

The truth was, Liquidator couldn’t leave behind his CEO lifestyle. Not even a freak accident could stop him from getting everything he wanted. So he simply rebranded, paid off the right people and “hired” Patrick to become his personal sock puppet. As it turns out, with enough compensation and persuasion, any idiot would be more than happy to uproot their lives and become the CEO of a multi million dollar company.

That was neither here nor there. Currently, Liquidator and Patrick were staring at one another inside of Bud’s Essentials top floor office. It was more elaborate than functional, with large glass windows and a few aquariums scattered about. 

“I want you to go to the hardware store for me and pick up a few things,” Liquidator said, again, despite never liking to repeat himself.

“Don’t you have cronies to do that for you?” Patrick asked, his dark eyebrows lowering into a glare. 

“Those cronies don’t have the company credit card, Patrick,” Liquidator told him. 

“So why not give it to them?” 

“You think I actually trust any of those guys?”

“Oh wow, wait… You trust me, the guy you kidnapped half a year ago, more than the cronies you’ve had for years? I’m not sure how I feel about that…”

There wasn’t a day that went by where Liquidator wasn’t reminded of the “hiring process” they endured to acquire Patrick. “I can trust you because you’re a spineless coward who’s smart enough not to cross me,” Liquidator spat.

Patrick’s long black ears flopped a little when he tilted his head to the side, “Well, you got me there. Let me just go ahead and cancel all of my meetings for today, I guess,” he said as he began to compose a mass email.

Liquidator only rolled his eyes, “So sorry to pull you away from your napping sessions.”

“Hey, I get a lot done in those marketing meetings,” Patrick said pointedly, “More than you ever did, that’s for sure. I mean, those girls wearing water bottle costumes and dancing around? That style left the market in the nineteen forties.” 

“Can you just get on with this?” Liquidator asked, making it even more obvious that he was irritated. 

“I mean, you don’t have to come along,” Patrick offered with a shrug, silently hoping Bud would take the deal and leave him to his own devices. “You could just send me a list and your address.”

“I’d rather be out of the house,” Liquidator said before he could really stop it. 

Patrick looked up from his computer with a smirk, “Uh-oh! Trouble in paradise?” he asked. 

“I guess you could say that, yeah,” Liquidator said, refusing to elaborate.

After a beat, “Well fine then, you can ride along. But don’t expect me to bail you out if someone asks you any questions about why you’re the way you are,” Patrick said as he plucked his suit jacket from the back of his chair, grabbed his keys and briefcase. 

“Don’t worry about me, just bring your reusable coffee cup and I’ll meet you down at the garage,” Liquidator said as he took the lid off of one of the aquariums.

Patrick shivered and shook his head as he watched his boss sink down into the water and virtually disappear. He really didn’t want to think about the unfortunate side effects of traveling by the plumbing in their office building. 

When Patrick reached the garage floor, Liquidator was waiting for him behind the elevator doors. Luckily, he was his bright blue self. Together, they walked to Patrick’s car and that’s where Liquidator hesitated. 

“Wait, wait, is this the car you brought to work with you today?” Liquidator asked, looking over the bright red sports car.

“Well, yeah,” Patrick shrugged. 

Liquidator shook his head, “No, we need a truck,” he said, looking around. 

“So we’ll rent one,” Patrick said, bringing out his phone. 

“Why rent one when there’s plenty here, ripe for the picking?” Liquidator asked with a sinister smile. He then began to jog around the parking garage in order to scope out the perfect truck for the job.

“Oh, okay, and this is coming from the guy who wants to lay low after robbing a bank!” Patrick shouted in his direction, just before following him with a brisk walk. 

“Come on, Pat, haven’t you ever stolen a car? Haven’t you ever wanted to steal a car?” Liquidator asked.

“Not particularly, no,” Patrick said, “You’re the ruthless criminal, I’m just your alter ego, remember?”

Liquidator tried a few doors on a couple of trucks. Patrick was surprised none of them had alarms of any kind, despite them being locked. The confusion must have been painted all over his face, because Liquidator laughed a little.

“You see, Pat, this is a private garage that’s only accessible by key card. People often let their guard down when there’s an illusion of safety. And this garage, despite no active guards or working security cameras, is the perfect illusion of safety.” Liquidator said with a bright smile. 

Truly, Liquidator built this entire office building with many ulterior motives in mind. Patrick began to jokingly wonder if there was some kind of torture chamber hidden among the dozens of office floors. 

Just then, Liquidator opened up the driver’s side of a truck door. “We’ll call that burglary lesson number one,” he said as he gestured for Patrick to slip inside the seat of the truck. 

Liquidator hopped into the other side where he gave Patrick instructions on how to hot-wire the truck. Though he was able to control his density, the mutant didn’t want to take the risk in ruining the wiring with a stray drop of water. It took a little bit longer than Liquidator would have liked, but soon enough the two felt the engine roar to life. 

“And there’s lesson number two!” Liquidator exclaimed before he shut his side door. “Now let’s go, go, go!”

Patrick laughed and shook his head, “I can’t believe I’m doing this just to finish your god damn errands,” he said. At that, Patrick shut the car door and began to drive out of the garage. 

So much for keeping the boys on separate ends of the greenhouse. 

Bushroot went after Chuckie, stopping dead in his tracks when he saw the robot pulling at the forest floor and manically laughing to himself. Bushroot gasped in horror and tried his best to move some of the plants out of Chuckie’s reach. To his dismay, a Chuckie saw that as a challenge and scampered around on all fours to follow the bigger plants. 

“Chuckie, no!” Bushroot cried out. 

Bushroot’s cry fell on deaf ears, as Chuckie’s laughter only grew louder. He caught a plant that Bushroot had previously had control of, and held it with an iron grip. Then, Bushroot watched in horror as a small buzz saw replaced Chuckie’s right hand and began to whirr. 

With no other ideas in mind, Bushroot brought forth a dozen roots from the surrounding trees to ensnare the small pest. 

Once he realized he had been caught, Chuckie began to fight off the roots as best as he could, “Lemme go, lemme go, lemme go!!” he screamed. 

It was a sound unlike Bushroot had ever heard before. Worried that he had somehow injured the robot, he released the roots almost immediately. “Okay, okay!” Bushroot exclaimed. 

As soon as Chuckie was free he broke out into another run into some nearby bushes, causing Bushroot to lose sight of him. The duck tried to follow suit but couldn’t find any telling signs. 

Chuckie ran and ran as fast as he could, positively snickering to himself. He only stopped in his tracks the moment he ran directly into something. All because he was too distracted by the prospect of Bushroot chasing him to see exactly where he was going. Chuckie shook his head and glared at the offending force that stopped him, it was an old inactive fountain. 

Chuckie stood up from the ground and looked around. The grass surrounding him was annoyingly tickling his nose, so he brought out his buzz saw and began to wildly cut it away. Once he believed he was done he smiled at his own handiwork and put the saw away. 

After that was completed, he began to pluck away at the weeds and flowers that had been hidden away by the tall grass. Then, Chuckie froze as his mechanical ears perked wildly at the small sound of a strange hissing noise. 

Chuckie was thrown to the ground face first in a matter of seconds. His face was temporarily buried deep into the ground and he felt something heavy was pressed against his back. Quickly he sat up, his mouth full of dirt and whirled around to see his assailant being tossed aside. 

Dylan got himself on all fours and faced this malicious intruder. He had been watching from the trees, observing Chuckie’s destructive nature. Until Dylan had enough of it. They both stared at each other as they both simply absorbed just what they were looking at. 

“Wow…” Chuckie said plainly, “You’re ugly!”

In response, Dylan merely growled and lunged for Chuckie. 

Chapter Text

At the hardware store, Patrick almost felt like he was in an alternate dimension. It was nearly abandoned save for the small peppering of staff between the aisles. Patrick took a moment to look at the list Liquidator had texted him before they had made their way inside.

Patrick pocketed his phone and set down his open tumbler inside the cart he was wheeling around. He easily grabbed a roll of jet black lining and placed it into the cart. Luckily, it was one of the last few items they needed for Liquidator’s project.

Confused, “What’s all this for, anyway?” Patrick asked seemingly no one.

A voice came from his tumbler, “Reggie and I have a… pet project at home,” Liquidator said in a cryptic manner.

“You said that almost like this is actually a project for your pet,” Patrick said, ever more curious before he realized, “Oh! That’s right, you two have that venus flytrap, huh?”

Just then, a vibration started to pulse from Patrick’s jacket pocket and a ringtone filled the air. Patrick stopped everything and pulled it free. The phone read “Reggie” across the screen. Before he could pick up, however, a smaller Liquidator materialized from Patrick’s tumbler. He held out his hand and Patrick silently handed over the phone.

“Hey babe,” Liquidator said as he picked up.

“Bud, I just- I want you to know I love you s- so much- and I-“ Reggie said on the other end, sounding hushed and distraught.

Immediately, his ears perked upwards as Liquidator sensed the panic in Bushroot’s voice. “Hun, slow down, what’s going on?” he asked, fearing the worst.

“Quackerjack went to pick up Megavolt from jail and… and I’m babysitting,” Reggie said in a haunted whisper.

From where Bushroot was, he could hear the small buzzing and whirring noises coming from Chuckie as he surveyed the kitchen from the ceiling. He could see the faint red glow from Chuckie’s eyes gloss over the island he was hiding behind and the tiled floor. Whether he was on the prowl for him or his son, Bushroot didn’t know. What he did know was that Chuckie and Dylan had practically torn up the entire greenhouse with their exuberant fighting. And it seemed like there was no end in sight.

“Wait, wait, hold on, you agreed to watch Megavolt and Quackerjack’s kid while you were still adjusting to Dylan?” Liquidator asked in disbelief.

“I- I thought I could handle them both… he seemed like s- such a mellow kid… but I was wrong, oh god I was so wrong, Bud,” Bushroot began to sob.

“Are you crying right now?” Bud asked, only to be answered by more gross sobbing. “Listen to me, I’ve almost got everything I need, you hang tight and I’ll be back to help in no time.”

“O- Okay, okay,” Reggie whispered as he nodded frantically, trying to calm himself down.

“Alright, you got this. I love you,” Bud told him.

“I love you too,” Reggie managed before the line was hung up.

Liquidator handed his phone back over to Patrick. “Is Dylan the name of your flytrap?” Patrick asked with a fiendish smile while he pocketed the phone.

“Shut up and get us to the checkout, Patrick,” Liquidator growled as he sank back into the tumbler.

Patrick pouted and rolled his eyes, “Fine. I’m just trying to make small talk, geez.”

Back at the greenhouse, Bushroot was still sitting on the kitchen floor as he gathered some courage. He needed it if he was going to face Chuckie. Finally, when he felt he was ready, Bushroot stood up and looked pointedly at the ceiling. Except, Chuckie wasn’t there anymore.

There was a clamoring of pots from behind Bushroot and it startled him greatly. He turned around quickly and found Chuckie and Dylan fighting once more. The two were in a wrestling match of some kind and Bushroot had no idea how to stop it.

“Boys! Please stop fighting,” Bushroot tried to shout at them though the volume of his voice trailed off before he could even finish his sentence.

The two simply ignored Bushroot in favor of clawing and kicking each other. It worried Bushroot to see the two not let up for anything. Though, admittedly, Bushroot wasn’t the most authoritative sounding person in the world.

Still, he decided to give it his best shot, “Stop fighting, the both of you!” he shouted.

The two boys continued and rolled their way out of the kitchen in a heap. Bushroot had no choice but to follow them. After a minute or two, Bushroot couldn’t help but notice their laughter filling the air. It started with Chuckie after Dylan bit down on his arm, tearing the fabric of his shirt and the latex surface. It didn’t hurt him, so he just simply laughed. As if it were contagious, Dylan let up his bite and began to laugh as well. Somehow, Bushroot got the feeling that they were starting to enjoy this wild goose chase.

Once Patrick had loaded the truck, they were on their way to the greenhouse. The silence between Liquidator and Patrick was heavy. It was obvious that Patrick wanted more information, but Liquidator wasn’t willing to give it up. This was nothing new to Patrick; Liquidator was always very secretive of his personal life. He believed that the less Patrick knew, the better. It still never left his curiosity satisfied. They reached a stoplight, but before Patrick could open his mouth, Liquidator flipped on the radio to silence him.

“—villain was last seen escaping from downtown’s St. Canard police station. An explosion occurred merely minutes before he could begin his transfer to St. Canard’s Maximum Security prison. If anyone sees this rat, as well as his partner in crime, please call—“

Just then, tires screeching filled their ears and they watched as a very familiar car sped across the intersection. Not too far behind was an obnoxious looking motorcycle shaped like a duck’s bill. Liquidator realized they were witnesses to Darkwing Duck in a hot pursuit for Megavolt and Quackerjack.

“Go after them,” Liquidator demanded.

“What the hell, are you crazy? That was Darkwing,” Patrick said.

“Yeah, chasing Megavolt and Quackerjack,” Liquidator said.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t see how that’s our problem.”

At that point, Liquidator had already decided in his head that Bushroot nor himself would be held responsible for a child that wasn’t theirs. Which was what he knew would happen if Quackerjack and Megavolt found themselves both captured. Knowing there was no time to explain this or argue, Liquidator grappled Patrick by the collar of his white shirt and pulled him away from the driver’s seat. The two bickered as they exchanged seats and sirens from local police began to fill the air. The caravan trailed down the route Darkwing and Megavolt had taken.

“Whoa! Hey! Watch it! Okay, I get it!”

“Get out of the way, Pat!”

Once Liquidator was in the driver’s seat, he slammed on the gas and followed the police cars.

“Are you gonna explain to me what’s going on?” Patrick asked.

“Nine out of ten doctors recommend that you shut the hell up!” Liquidator barked back.

Liquidator took a sharp turn down a street just before the trail of police cars did. At the end of the street, they saw the two vehicles that were still giving chase. Liquidator slammed on the gas and turned directly onto the same street. They were now just behind Darkwing’s motorbike. Patrick saw Darkwing’s eyes flicker to his rearview mirror from behind his biker's helmet. Still, he did not falter from his pursuit of the vehicle in front of him.

“Patrick, remember when we met? How scared you were; how confused you were?” Liquidator asked.

“Uhh, yeah?” Patrick asked.

“I’m going to need you to channel that again and tell Darkwing that I’ve kidnapped you.”

“But you did kidnap me!”

“Oh please, I hired you!”

“After you kidnapped me!”

“Just roll down the damn window now, Pat!”

Patrick growled to himself as the motorized window rolled down. Liquidator sped the car closer to Darkwing’s side so that Patrick could be seen. Patrick pulled himself halfway out the window and started to flag down Darkwing. “Oh help! Mr. Darkwing, it’s me; CEO of Bud’s Essentials, Bud Flud! I have been kidnapped by the nefarious Liquidator,” he shouted in a weird, fluctuating tone.

Liquidator rolled his eyes, “I can’t believe they put you in my commercials,” he said more to himself than anyone.

“Wha— Bud Flud? Liquidator?” Darkwing asked, taking a second glance at Patrick.

Liquidator pulled Patrick back inside the vehicle by wrapping his rippling water around his muzzle. Patrick was dragged further so that he was partially submerged inside him while Bud hit the gas once more. “Hang on, Pat,” was the only share of warning he gave. The truck forced its way between Megavolt’s abomination of a car and Darkwing’s bike. Darkwing tried to slow down but the impact was created once Liquidator slammed on the breaks.

The truck and the motorcycle collided, throwing Darkwing off of his bike and onto the street. Megavolt's car was nowhere to be seen. The truck was less out of commission, but still beaten up pretty bad. Patrick stumbled out of the truck with his tumbler in hand, wet and aching from being thrown onto the dashboard.

Darkwing pushed himself up from the pavement and threw off his helmet. He turned to assess the situation and felt compelled to call out to Patrick, “You alright?” he asked.

“No. I was kidnapped from a very important luncheon and now my truck is a goddamn mess,” Patrick wheezed, gesturing to the truck he had stolen hours earlier.

“Sorry about that, Mr. Flud,” Darkwing said before giving a slight hiss in pain from some of his wounds meeting the air. He looked around the scene as the police began to circle the accident. “Wait, where’s Liquidator?” he asked, moving to draw his gas gun.

“Dunno! Maybe he evaporated? Or slipped off somewhere,” Patrick said, looking around. He feigned to take a sip from his large sealed tumbler. “Who knows with these mutant freaks parading around Saint Canard like they own damn the place...”

“What did he want with you, anyway?” Darkwing asked.

“He didn’t say. Maybe a ransom? He wasn’t very specific,” Patrick continued to lie.

After some questioning from Darkwing and the police, an examination from some paramedics and watching Darkwing’s atrocious motorcycle being towed away, Patrick was finally free to go. He was thankful that, even with so many police officers around, none of them bothered to check the vehicle’s registration. Or the fact that the steering wheel had exposed wires from being hot wired hours ago. So he simply touched the starter wires together and got the truck up and running once more.

Once the police cars were out of sight from the rearview mirror, Patrick smiled at his tumbler, “Okay, you can come out now.”

Liquidator freed himself from the tumbler and sat in the passenger seat. “Again, I’m surprised they let you film any commercials, you’re a terrible actor,” Liquidator said more directly this time.

“I'm better with a script. Also, I got them off your tail and the rest of you so... you’re welcome.”

“Just get us to my house.”

While the two boys were still tousling on the edge of the forest, Bushroot noticed the automatic sprinkler system shoot out from the ground. Before he could do anything about it, some of the water began to soak the boys. Dylan paid no mind to it as most of it rolled off of his turtle shell, but as soon as the water hit an exposed metallic piece on Chuckie’s wrist, a sharp ‘SNAP’ and spark filled the air in response. It shocked Dylan, who recoiled immediately at the sensation. Chuckie shouted and turned to run away from the water and through another door frame. Dylan followed close behind, giving absolutely no regard to Bushroot as he chased after them.

“Wait! Boys come back!” Bushroot exclaimed.

“Hey Bush-boy! Where are ya?” a nasally voice suddenly called out from the very front of the greenhouse.

Megavolt and Quackerjack were finally back to collect their nightmare of a child. A mild terror struck Bushroot’s heart at the thought of them finding Dylan and Chuckie battling it out.

Bushroot ignored Megavolt and leaned on the doorway of his bedroom just to see the two boys acting up again. They were both on the bed when Dylan decided to jump onto the shelf above so he could be taller and Chuckie began to climb up as well. All Bushroot could think about was how dangerously close Chuckie was to Liquidator’s water tank. His thoughts began to materialize into reality as Chuckie slipped backwards on the few books that had been sitting on the shelf.

Chuckie began to fall.

Just as he stepped foot into the room and sent out his vine-like arms, Bushroot saw Dylan’s arms reach there faster. They wrapped around Chuckie at lightning speed and reeled him in close to his body. They both stared at one another, blankly.

Bushroot felt his skin crawl as he registered his personal space had been invaded. He retracted his arms and turned around to see Quackerjack and Megavolt in the bedroom doorway. Megavolt was frozen in shock and Quackerjack had both hands clasping his large beak in terror.

“Chuckie!” Quackerjack cried out and scrambled onto the bed, reaching for his robotic child.

Chuckie turned towards Quackerjack’s voice immediately. Dylan unwrapped his arms from Chuckie and watched carefully as the small rat jumped into the jester’s arms. “Papa! He saved me! Did you see, Papa?” Chuckie chirped.

“I saw it, I saw it, my sweet little man,” Quackerjack said, tears stinging his eyes as he collapsed on his knees and hugged Chuckie closer.

“Uuuh and just who, or what, is he?” Megavolt couldn’t help but ask, looking between Bushroot and Dylan.

“His name is Dylan and he’s my son,” Bushroot said.

All the eyes in the room drifted over to Dylan and it made him feel anxious. With that nervous energy, he growled a little and dropped himself into Liquidator’s tank. When he was in the water, he retreated further into his shell and it sank to the bottom like a stone.

“...Shy kid, huh?” Megavolt asked.

“He’s… He’s still developing. He might look like Chuckie’s age, but he’s really only a day old. He’s running on his most basic instincts. He doesn’t even speak but… I think he actually likes Chuckie,” Bushroot said.

Chuckie’s mechanical ears perked at the sound of that and he immediately began to worm his way out of Quackerjack’s hold. When the duck released him, Chuckie flew to the side of the water tank and watched Dylan’s shell intently. There was no movement save for the small bubbles that trailed out of the shell periodically.

Quackerjack cracked a smile, “I think Chuckie likes Dylan too,” he said.

“Alright, Chuckie, it’s time to go now,” Megavolt called for his son’s attention.

Chuckie looked absolutely crest-fallen when he turned to his dad. “Awww! Do we have to?” he whined.

“Papa and I have had a very long day, Chuckie… right?” Megavolt asked as though he couldn’t quite remember.

“Yeah, yeah!” Quackerjack exclaimed with a small laugh in his throat, “And we’ll tell ya all about it as soon as we get in the car, alright?”

Chuckie looked torn still, keeping a hand on the tank’s glass, “Can I come over an’ see Dylan again?” he asked.

Bushroot wasn’t sure what the couple would make of Dylan, knowing what they knew about him. He also wasn’t sure how they felt about Chuckie nearly falling into Liquidator’s tank under his watch. He certainly hadn’t expected to hear, “Sure thing, Chuck, you’ll see him again soon,” coming from Quackerjack as he placed a hand gently on Chuckie’s shoulder.

A certain fondness touched Bushroot’s heart and made him smile softly. Dylan was only a day old and yet he already had made a friend and gained a certain admiration from Chuckie’s parents.

After hearing that promise, Chuckie climbed into Quackerjack’s arms once more and they removed themselves from Bushroot’s bed. “Thanks again for watching Chuckie,” Quackerjack said.

As the family began to walk out of Bushroot’s bedroom door, Chuckie gave him a knowing smile from over Quackerjack’s shoulder that Bushroot was sure would haunt his nightmares. “N- no problem,” Bushroot stuttered, “he was an absolute angel.”

“Of course he was, I perfected artificial intelligence... and they said it couldn’t be done!” Megavolt exclaimed dramatically.

Just then, the greenhouse door opened up and revealed a panicked looking Liquidator. “Reggie—? Oh, uh… hi,” he said lamely as he registered the others crossing the forest line.

“Megs,” Quackerjack said softly as he handed off Chuckie to Megavolt.

“Got ‘im,” Megavolt reassured him as Chuckie curled himself around his dad’s side like a koala bear.

Quackerjack launched himself at Liquidator, attempting to throw a punch or two but the dog parted his mass in a perfect dodge. “Coward!”

“Oh come on!” Liquidator cried out, “Has this ever happened to you? Three out of four lowly criminals poorly plan a bank heist and Darkwing Duck shows up to throw a wrench in it. What was I supposed to do?”

“You could’ve helped Megs and I both escape! But did you? No. Instead, he got caught and I had to bust him out of jail!”

Bushroot looked worriedly between the two, unsure if he even wanted to intervene.

“Oh yeah great plan, by the way, breaking him out of jail in broad daylight,” Liquidator said in a sniding tone, “You were lucky Patrick and I were there to distract Darkwing and practically the entire police force.”

“What are you talking about? Darkwing crashed into some idiot in a truck!”

“Hello, coming through. I hope you don’t mind, Dr. Bushroot, but I parked the truck close by on the lawn,” Patrick called out as he shuffled past Liquidator and Quackerjack. His arms were full of some of the supplies they had picked up from the hardware store earlier.

“That’s… fine, Patrick,” Bushroot said in a tone that made Patrick believe it wasn’t really, he was just too nice to say anything.

“Wait…” Quackerjack looked outside the large greenhouse windows and saw the very truck that had collided with Darkwing’s bike earlier. “Oh.”

“If you wanted help to get Megavolt out of jail, you could’ve just let me know,” Liquidator said.

Quackerjack looked like he wanted to continue to be angry, but couldn’t say exactly why. So he opted to storm past Liquidator and through the greenhouse door.

“You’re welcome!” Liquidator called out to him.

Megavolt finally made his move to follow Quackerjack out the door with their small son in tow. “Well, goodnight folks,” he said.

Bushroot said a meek goodbye and watched as the family finally left. Liquidator turned towards Bushroot with his arms extended. “So I take it things worked out?” he asked.

“Yeah, yeah everything worked out fine,” Bushroot said as he embraced Liquidator, “Did you get the supplies?”

“Just about to haul in the last of it,” Patrick called before slipping back outside.

“Since when is Patrick our errand boy?” Bushroot asked, looking directly at Bud.

“Ever since I hired him. I can get him to do whatever I need, no questions asked. ...Okay that’s a lie, he virtually never stops asking questions,” Liquidator said in a tired voice.

“Well, I’m just glad he was able to help you and Quackerjack,” Bushroot said, leaning upwards in the hopes to get a slight kiss.

His wish had been granted as Liquidator met him halfway and kissed Bushroot slowly. The two only stopped as soon as they heard a rather loud clearing of the throat coming from none other than Patrick. It had seemed as though he had brought in all the supplies they needed to temporarily fix the greenhouse window. Among other curious things that Bushroot hadn’t listed.

“Well, that’s the last of it, I’ll just… see myself out,” Patrick said, lingering slightly on the balls of his feet, as though he were waiting for something.

“Thanks, Patrick,” Bushroot said.

Though the gratitude didn’t come from Liquidator like Patrick had secretly hoped, he took it with a smile and a nod. With that, the CEO disappeared into the night.

The couple picked up the plywood, a drill and some screws to the other side of the greenhouse. Together, they properly boarded up the Dylan-sized hole in the window. Still curious about the tarp and the other tools, Bushroot questioned Liquidator, “All I said was to get some stuff to help us with the window. What’s the rest of it for?” he asked.

“Well survey says, you wanted to keep him in the greenhouse. And he likes water. So I’ve thought about building a pond where that old fountain is,” Liquidator shrugged slightly.

Bushroot was touched by the idea. “That sounds wonderful, Bud,” he told him. Just when he had thought Liquidator didn’t want anything to do with Dylan, he was taking steps to improve his environment.

“Glad you think so,” Liquidator smiled.

After they cleared up unnecessary items from around the window, the couple made their way to their shared bedroom. At this point, all Liquidator could think about was getting some well-deserved rest.

That’s when Bud noticed a shell at the bottom of his tank. “Uh, Reggie… is he...?” Liquidator asked.

“Oh right!” Bushroot exclaimed with a small chuckle, “He just got overwhelmed by Megavolt and Quackerjack. I’m sure he’s fine. You know, some sea turtles can last up to eight hours under water.”

“He… isn’t a turtle, though,” Liquidator said as he began to climb up the tank’s ladder. He dipped his hand inside the water and pulled Dylan’s shell up to the surface using a current he created.

“He has the lung capacity, Bud, I should know,” Bushroot told him pointedly, “Besides that, he’s biologically our son. Between the two of us, he’s bound to be able to breathe underwater. I’ll have to conduct some experiments...”

As Dylan surfaced, he popped his head out of the shell in a mild panic. He tried to swim away but Liquidator pulled him in closer. “C’mon… I just want to go to bed,” Bud grumbled.

When Liquidator finally grabbed Dylan’s shell and pulled him free from the water, an ear-piercing screech came from him. Liquidator nearly dropped him back into the tank from the surprise, but instead he climbed down the ladder and held the thrashing child towards Bushroot. “Reggie! Make him stop!” Liquidator shouted over the continued screaming.

“What do you want me to do about it? You’re the one who pulled him out of the tank!” Bushroot shouted back as he saw Dylan begin to snap and claw at Liquidator’s hands and arms. Luckily Bud was expertly avoiding every bite. Clearly, this child was upset and neither of them knew how to solve it.

Then, Bushroot got an idea. “Dylan! Hey, hey, baby boy, c’mon—“ he cooed as he produced some bright colored flowers from his vine-like arms. He waved them around in front of Dylan, causing him to become distracted from his initial anger. Bushroot smiled as Dylan stopped screaming and looked intently at the flowers; reaching for them with his small webbed hands. “That’s a good boy,” he gushed.

“I can’t believe that worked,” Liquidator commented.

“My guess is that his mind is that of a nine month old baby or maybe a one year old, it’s hard to say because he still isn’t talking. But he’s navigating his environment and other relationships fairly well,” Bushroot said in a small tangent, continuing to wave the flowers in front of Dylan.

Dylan gave a soft giggle when Bushroot brushed some of the flower petals on Dylan’s cheek. He smiled at the sound.

“It seems like you know a lot about kids,” Liquidator noted, trying to noticeably hand off Dylan to Bushroot.

Bushroot took the hint, grabbed Dylan and turned him on his back in a proper cradle. He was surprised Dylan let him do it, but he figured the small child was distracted and tired enough. “I… uh, I’ve thought about this a lot. N- not like this, though, I never thought I’d be able to create a child from a series of experiments. But I’ve… I’ve always wanted a family,” Bushroot told him.

Hearing that continued to surprise Liquidator. They had never discussed this in all the time they had spent together. It was a little troubling to him. Did Bushroot not read him as a family man? He must have if he used Liquidator’s DNA to create this child, right? “I’m still surprised you never brought it up before now.”

“Well I… I wasn’t sure how to. It wasn’t like I could just say, ‘hey Liquidator I see you’re beating up Darkwing really good. By the way, do you ever want kids?’...” Bushroot said.

“Wait, what’s that supposed to mean?” Liquidator asked, feeling offended, “Do you want us to give up on the villain life for this kid?”

“What? No, not at all. I was just finding an example of how crazy our lifestyle can get. I’d never ask for us to give up being criminals,” Bushroot said hastily.

Even though he sometimes doubted his abilities in being a full-fledged criminal, Liquidator couldn’t see himself doing anything other than causing chaos. “Okay good,” he said firmly.

Bushroot looked at Dylan and saw his eyes start to close in his tired state. He couldn’t help but smile softly. It must have been contagious because Liquidator caught himself smiling as well. He leaned down and gave Bushroot a small kiss on his forehead.

“I love you,” Reggie found himself blurting out.

“I love you too,” Bud said in response.

Chapter Text

Slowly, as the months went by, Bushroot and Liquidator were adjusting to Dylan’s presence in their lives. It wasn’t easy. As they had come to learn, Dylan was a shy child. He spent most of his days hiding inside the garden of the greenhouse. As much as Bushroot wanted to socialize with him, Dylan had other plans. A lot of them involved hiding away in the trees for hours on end. Then appearing just to scare the living daylights out of whichever one of his parents crossed his path. Other times, it would be to eat. 

Bushroot wanted to keep him on a strictly vegetarian diet. That only changed after Liquidator had brought home a small fish he had accidentally swept up from the bay. He wanted to properly place it in an aquarium for Dylan. 

“Kids like keeping fishes, right?” Liquidator shrugged, watching the fish swirl around in his large muscular arm. 

“We don’t need to get him another pet, Bud, we have Spike. Not to mention he has a garden full of bugs already,” Bushroot argued, but he still produced a glass jar from his laboratory. 

“C’mon, Reggie, let’s give it to him. You know, for science,” Liquidator said, looking back at Bushroot and presenting his arm. Bushroot gave a small sigh before he made an attempt to capture the fish in the jar. When it began to swim away, Liquidator frowned, “Oh, hang on.”

Liquidator used his powers to trap the fish in a small circular current. Though, Bushroot couldn’t make his move. He was too slow in comparison to the large green blur that came flying straight through Liquidator’s arm. There was a large snapping sound that filled the air right before Dylan crashed onto Bushroot’s chest. The wind was knocked clear out of him as his back hit the experiment table and the jar shattered on the floor. Bushroot instinctively grabbed Dylan in his arms, trying to recover from the sudden attack. 

“D- Dylan!” Bushroot exclaimed. Then, he noticed Dylan’s cheeks were round and full, his mouth drooling and it dawned on him, “Dylan, spit that out, now,” he warned. 

Liquidator regenerated his arm and also noticed how the fish was missing. “Dylan, listen to your dad. You don’t know where that’s been,” he chimed in. 

Dylan looked between Bushroot and Liquidator with his wide eyes, the water from Liquidator’s form trailing down his seaweed hair. After a beat, he swallowed loudly. “Dylan, no!” Bushroot shouted. A panic rose up inside him and he started to make moves to perform the Heimlich maneuver. However, Bushroot didn’t take Dylan’s shell into account. It was too hard for him to press against his chest. 

Bushroot looked at Liquidator with his eyes filled with deep concern. Liquidator simply looked at them both and laughed. “Bud! Please,” Reggie cried out over his laughter. 

“I’m sure he’ll be fine, Reggie. Or your money back, guaranteed,” Bud reassured him. 

“But…” Reggie trailed. 

Dylan let out a small burp and a satisfied giggle. 

Reggie simply sighed and continued to cradle Dylan closely, “Well, I guess we can add fish to his diet.”

From a scientific standpoint, Dylan absolutely fascinated Bushroot. Whenever he had the time and a good angle, Bushroot made it his mission to record videos or write down certain behaviors and other factoids. During the times Dylan was capable of sitting still, Bushroot would monitor his temperatures and the occasional blood test. Dylan hated those tests the most, even though he’d get a nice fish-related treat out of it. 

This all took place between his “day job” that Liquidator had given him and the occasional criminal scheme. Far behind and deep underneath the greenhouse laboratory nestled a sizable farm of plants. Bushroot’s duty was to grow, maintain and harvest the plants; then provide their bottling factory with the goods to create essential oils and other byproducts. Lavender being their highest seller, of course. It wasn’t exactly his dream job, but with Bud providing his income Reggie didn’t want to complain. There weren’t a whole lot of job listings for botanists who were also plant mutants, after all. On the bright side, he was working with his partner in crime.

When Liquidator wasn’t busy committing a crime or trying to keep his company in order from afar, he made it his mission to build Dylan’s pond. As much as he wanted to get someone else to do it for him, he found himself somewhat enjoying the experience. He designed it at a slope and the deepest part was about four feet. Dylan even helped him dig through the ground using his webbed hands and long nails. Bud found it strangely endearing. 

At the furthest end was a small, but deep cave that was initially supposed to be nothing but a small waterfall. Liquidator approached the stones with tools in hand, fully intending to start setting up the pipelines. The pond needed the waterfall in order for the water to circulate. The moment Bud knelt down, there was a large hissing noise that caught him completely off guard. He jumped in response before eyeing the mouth of the cave. Inside, Dylan was on all fours and bearing his sharp teeth. 

“Okay, jeez. Calm down, I get the picture,” Liquidator said. Knowing he wasn’t going to get the kid out of the cave, he simply stood up and walked away. 

As an unspoken compromise, Liquidator ended up making a larger mound of stones on the opposite side of the pond and installed the pipeline for the waterfall. 

Dylan would sleep inside that small cave whenever he could. However, Reggie made sure their bedroom door was always open. Just in case the kid wanted to wander inside. Reggie also made it a point to seek Dylan out and wish him goodnight. Half the time Dylan would scare the wits out of him, but other times he would catch him sleeping in his cave. Most occasions, Bud and Reggie would find Dylan’s shell at the bottom of Liquidator’s tank. 

When this would happen, sometimes Liquidator and Bushroot would be too exhausted to move him. But this time, Liquidator wanted the tank to himself. 

“Reg, he’s in the tank again,” Liquidator called out in an annoyed tone.

“Give him to me, then,” Bushroot said, turning off the light coming from the bathroom as he walked out. 

Liquidator reached inside the tank and gently pulled Dylan up and outside of the tank. He was careful to keep the shell at a horizontal angle so as not to wake him. When he was out of the tank, Bushroot grabbed a hold of Dylan and carried him over to his bed. He placed Dylan down first, prompting a slight growl echoing in his shell. He let go and paused to make sure there was no other sound or movement to indicate he had been woken up. Then, ever so carefully, Bushroot crawled onto the bed and tucked himself in. Then he fell asleep next to his son, his head filled with the sound of the water rippling through Liquidator’s tank. 

Bath time was always a struggle. It wasn’t hard to get Dylan into water; the bathtub was no exception. He enjoyed swimming around and the feeling of the water between his feathers. Dylan also enjoyed nothing more than his shell being scrubbed. 

The first time Dylan showed any indication of it, Bushroot was trying to rub off some gunk that had gotten between the crevasses of his shell. It was difficult with a hand towel, but he managed to scrub some out. As he made the sweeping motion, Dylan sat up and shimmied his shell excitedly in the opposite direction. Bushroot didn’t know whether to laugh or cry from just how cute he was. 

Getting out of the bath was the main problem for Dylan. Being a creature partial to water, it was a battle to get him out. Even bribery with food hardly ever worked, so Bushroot would be forced to use his powers to some extent to bind him and lift him out of the tub. Still, Bushroot enjoyed their bath time adventures. 

Because Dylan couldn’t sit still for very long, or in places that weren’t optimal for learning, Bushroot was slow to teach Dylan how to speak. All that ever came out of him were hisses and growls. Luckily, Dylan understood most of what was being spoken to him. It also helped that Bushroot was getting better at reading Dylan’s expressions. When he could, he would instruct Dylan on a few words or phrases. Sometimes he would force Dylan to talk in certain situations. Mainly when it came to food. 

“What do you need, Dyl?” Bushroot asked while he was preparing Dylan’s meal at the table. Dylan had been whining and fidgeting in place. “Use your words, baby boy,” he encouraged, “Would you like some rice? Some of your fish?”

“Just give him the food already, Reg—“

“I’m trying to get him to talk, Bud,” Reggie snapped. He turned back to Dylan and lifted the bowl into the air, “Can you say ‘please’?” he asked gently. 

Dylan looked between Bushroot and the bowl like he was in a panic. Granted, that was a default state when it came to most of his social interactions. Bushroot saw Dylan rubbing his hands together before slowly reaching out towards the bowl. 

Bushroot pulled the bowl out of his reach. “Come on, lil Dyl, I know you’ve got a voice in there somewhere…” his tone was slightly disappointed. Then an idea came to mind. Bushroot placed a flat hand onto his chest and moved it in a small circular motion, “Can you do this for me?”

After a minute, Dylan mimed Bushroot perfectly. “Good job!” Bushroot exclaimed as he handed over the food.

Liquidator was slightly confused, “Was that…?”

“Sign language for ‘please’,” Bushroot nodded, “If he won’t talk to me, maybe I can get him to sign to me.”

Bushroot didn’t know a whole lot of sign language. It mostly came from whatever he had been taught as a young child. But if it meant that he would be able to communicate a little bit better with his son, he was willing to learn more of it. 

One time, while in the garden, Bushroot encroached on Dylan’s territory. He had reached a break in his work and wanted to help teach him some more words to say or sign. It took him awhile, but he found Dylan in a nearby tree. The smile on his face was positively wicked and his tail was waving madly. 

Bushroot pretended not to notice and looked around, “Now where could Dylan be?” he asked loudly.  

Not a moment later, Dylan came flying from the tree and landed on top of Bushroot’s shoulders. Bushroot let out a small cry but couldn’t hide his beaming smile. Especially not when he heard his son’s precious laughter. 

“You really scared me! Goodness me!” Bushroot exclaimed. Dylan simply cackled and played with the petals of Bushroot’s hair. “Alright, alright,” Bushroot playfully scolded, using his vine-like arms to reach for his son and place him on the forest floor. 

Dylan reached up and grabbed Bushroot’s hand, like he didn’t want to let go of him just yet. Then a more curious thing happened. Dylan began to pull Bushroot around the forest floor. “Okay… I guess this is happening…” he said with a fascinated tone. 

Before, Dylan had been displaying signs of reclusive behaviors and social anxiety. If Bushroot had to guess, Dylan was starting to grow more fond of him and his presence. This was a point that Bushroot hadn’t thought he would achieve in such a short period of time. Not that he was complaining. Just by doing this, Dylan was showing massive strides of growth and understanding. It left Bushroot in awe. 

As they walked along, Bushroot would stop on occasion and tell Dylan excitedly about the different plants and the many bugs they came across. But no matter how many questions he asked Dylan or tried to prompt Dylan into saying something, or signing something, he would simply stare. 

“Can you say, tree?” Bushroot asked, releasing Dylan’s hold to give the sign for ‘tree’. 

But Bushroot didn’t get any kind of response. Bushroot figured he must not have been in a learning mood. He let out a small sigh and took Dylan’s hand once more.

Then, after leading Bushroot along for a little while, Dylan stopped and released his dad’s hand. He rummaged through a few bushes and pulled them back for his dad to see. Bushroot immediately recognized some misplaced and other assorted items in a large pile. He didn’t know whether to scold his son or congratulate him on how many things he had collected. 

Bushroot watched as Dylan reached into his pile and brought out two handfuls of rocks. They were different sizes and some of them had moss covering the tops. Dylan lifted them higher in Bushroot’s direction. “Oh? You want me…” he started to say as he placed his hands underneath Dylan’s webbed hands. Then Dylan let some of the rocks fall into Bushroot’s cupped hands. “Thank you…” he said softly. 

Dylan beamed at him. 

“You like these?” Bushroot asked.

Dylan nodded rapidly.

Bushroot was pleased to get such an enthusiastic response. He held the rocks tightly in his palms and knocked his right hand onto the top of his left. “Rocks,” he instructed. 

Dylan looked at Bushroot’s hands and mimed them back. Then, an unexpected small ‘rrr’ sound came from Dylan’s beak. 

Bushroot felt his heart begin to hammer in his chest. He tapped on his hand again and looked on in earnest, nodding his head rapidly, “Rock,” he encouraged.

“Rrrock,” Dylan finally said. 

The amount of pride Reggie felt was absolutely indescribable. He had just uttered his first word. Tears stung the edges of his eyes. “Y- yeah! Rock! Good job, Dyl,” Bushroot said, trying to hold back a well of tears. 

“Rock!” Dylan cheered as he went back to his pile and picked out even more moss-covered rocks. 

After that little moment, it was as though the flood gates had opened.  As it turned out, sign language was a perfect form of communication. So as Dylan learned some small words and phrases, he also learned to sign them. It helped to teach Dylan because it was only reinforcing Bushroot’s studies. Admittedly, it was still difficult to get him to speak but he was more inclined to sign. So Bushroot was confident Dylan was still learning.

Liquidator couldn’t help but feel a little left out at times, but he picked up a few things here and there. Besides, he enjoyed seeing Reggie finally connecting better with Dylan. 

Bushroot wasn’t the only one making leaps and bounds with Dylan. His playmate Chuckie would come over on a few occasions. The two would wrestle with each other and run around the garden for hours on end. Chuckie would do most of the talking while Dylan just looked on and absorbed what he could. 

“Papa says you’ve been talkin,” Chuckie said, not quite believing it himself. 

Dylan looked at Chuckie and signed the word, a little. When Chuckie looked confused, Dylan made a pinching motion with his index finger and thumb. 

“Oh come on! I hear you laugh all the time, an’ you don’t wanna talk to me?” Chuckie asked with frustration in his voice. “I finally got a friend and you’re no better than my toys at home!”

Dylan looked down at his lily pad shaped feet, feeling ashamed. 

Chuckie’s ears perked and his smile widened mischievously in Dylan’s direction. “What if I did somethin’ you didn’t like? Like pull your hair, or twist your arm? Then you’d have to talk. You’d have to tell me to stop, right?”

Dylan looked at Chuckie with fear in his eyes. He firmly believed Chuckie would do those exact things if he wasn’t careful. Dylan swallowed nervously as Chuckie reached into the pocket of his striped overalls. “What? Still nothing?” he asked, stepping closer. 

From his pocket, Chuckie wielded a red marker in his hand. Dylan tried to turn and run but Chuckie tackled him to the ground in an instant. It was hard for Dylan not to collapse under the full weight of the animatronic rat. Sitting on his shell, laughing maniacally, Chuckie uncapped the marker with a loud ‘pop’ and then began to scrawl.

“Gotcha now,” Chuckie taunted once he was done with the letters ‘chuckie wuz here’. 

Dylan growled and flailed his arms and legs, “Off!!” he shouted. 

“Hey! You did it, you said somethin’!” Chuckie exclaimed as he stood up. 

The moment he could, Dylan sat up straight and tried to assess the damage that had been done to his shell. He pouted a little bit, mostly because he was frustrated that he couldn’t understand it. Dylan liked the color though. So he chose to smile at Chuckie to show his appreciation. “I like,” Dylan said. 

Chuckie smiled even wider and his metal tail flicked at the sound of that. He was glad that Dylan was talking and that he enjoyed the artwork Chuckie had graced upon his shell. “Good! Cuz I ain’t done!” he exclaimed and raised his marker once more. 

Bushroot had always been worried about how Chuckie and Dylan treated each other. It didn’t help that at present, the boys were out of sight from Quackerjack and Bushroot. So when a large series of screams and shouts came from the forest, it made Bushroot nearly jump out of his skin. He was prepared to run into action, but Quackerjack stopped him.

“Trust me, they’re fine,” Quackerjack said in a casual manner.

Bushroot could hardly believe how calm he was, “H- how are you so sure?” he asked.

“Ever since we flipped Chuckie’s switch, he’s always loved to scream. I’ve always been able to get a good sense of when it’s a good scream or a bad one. And those…?” He paused and on cue the boys’ screams crumbled into the faint sound of laughter that filled the greenhouse, “Those are good ones.”

Bushroot fell back into the couch in disbelief. Quackerjack just laughed, “Oh come on, Bushroot! Chuckie likes keeping Dyl around, so he’s perfectly safe!” 

Though Bushroot didn’t want to admit it to Quackerjack, a lot of times after their playdates Dylan would present Bushroot with injuries that were either self-inflicted or given to him by Chuckie. Even further, Bushroot would sometimes intentionally neglect to fix these injuries. 

As a plant-based mutant himself, Bushroot knew he had regenerative powers. He was simply curious if Dylan had the same abilities. Bushroot would document the injuries when they were made apparent and when they would heal. Sometimes it was seconds, curiously, other deeper injuries took hours. 

Even after all of his gathered data and analysis; it wasn’t enough. Bushroot still had more curiosities to settle in his mind. He needed a detailed recording of an array of reactions determined by an outside influence. A stress test, of sorts. All this time, he had been keeping control of where his son was and what he would interact with. Now it was time to see how he would react with certain, unfamiliar stressors. Bushroot had a plan laid out in a matter of minutes. 

There were a lot of variables to consider; luckily he had the time to think while he led Dylan out of the greenhouse. They walked long and far into the depths of the city, just so things would be that more difficult. Bushroot could feel Dylan’s grip getting tighter as the crowds from the bustling city swarmed around them. The experiment didn’t start, however, until Bushroot knelt down to Dylan’s level. 

“Dada has to go somewhere, but I promise I’ll be back before you know it,” Bushroot told him.

Bushroot looked into Dylan’s wide eyes as he slowly peeled his hand away from Dylan’s. Then, he stood up and turned away. One moment he was with Dylan and the next he slipped into the crowd without another word. 

Then, Bushroot simply hid and watched. Unlike his first encounter with the outside world, Dylan didn’t run. He simply stood in place and looked around wildly through the crowd. Bushroot could tell Dylan was becoming increasingly distressed. 

“D… Dada?” he called out. Bushroot nearly stood up and stopped everything in that moment, but he desperately wanted to see how things would play out. Would he call on someone for help? Would he run? Bushroot’s mind was buzzing.

The more Dylan called out, the more unwilling attention he brought to himself. Suddenly, people started to take notice of him and shriek with terror. Dylan began to growl and snap his teeth at those strangers in response. Bushroot had no idea what kind of end result he had been expecting, but this wasn’t it. So finally, Bushroot snapped out of it and aimed to collect Dylan. 

What’s wrong with me?

The moment Dylan locked eyes with Bushroot, he clamored into his arms. By then, the crowd had all dispersed. Dylan started to cry and Bushroot felt his heart ache. He had been so clouded by his curiosities, he had failed Dylan as a guardian. “I’m so sorry, Dyl,” Bushroot sobbed. 

When they managed to return home, Liquidator was there waiting through the threshold. Bushroot placed Dylan on the floor and he watched as he darted back into his forest, as happy as can be. Bushroot, on the other hand, was feeling an immense weight of guilt on his chest.

Liquidator could see it in his eyes, “What’s going on?” he asked.

Bushroot swallowed and gestured towards their living room area. “I gotta talk to you about something,” he said.

When they sat down, Bushroot confessed everything to Liquidator. By the time he was finished, he expected to hear anger or even disgust. What he hadn’t expected was to hear Liquidator laugh. “Gee, Reggie. And here I thought having a kid would make you soft,” he said with a devious look in his eyes.

Reggie was in shock. “It’s not like… I want to continue doing these things to Dylan, Bud.”

“I know, Reggie, you just really surprised me. I guess you can’t shut off that scientist side of that big ‘ol brain of yours, can you?”

“That’s the whole point, I want to! I have to stop thinking of him as an experiment. For his safety and my sanity,” Bushroot said, feeling his stomach twist into a knot. 

Liquidator tilted his head, “Well, if you want, we can hire a family doctor.”

“No… No, I can keep this under control,” Bushroot said. 

“Then just stick to the medical stuff,” Liquidator shrugged, “Nothing else psychological or experimental.”

“Yeah, okay,” Bushroot said with a small nod. 

“Maybe you need a break from taking care of the kid. For a limited time only, I can set us up with a babysitter. That way, you can focus on your work and I can work on the pond a little more,” Liquidator suggested. 

It sounded like the perfect plan. Maybe if Bushroot could bury himself in a different experiment, he wouldn’t feel compelled to run any on Dylan. Slowly, Bushroot nodded, “Yeah, okay. That sounds good.”

“Fantastic. I'll go make the call now,” Liquidator said as he stood from his seat. He walked long enough so he was just out of earshot and pulled out his phone and dialed a number. 

The phone rang out so he decided to leave a message. “Patrick, clear your schedule and come by the greenhouse tomorrow. I’ve got a job for you,” Liquidator said.