Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Megavolt sat alone in his cell. To prevent him from making any escape, they’d made a special cell for him. He was the only one to stay in St. Canard now. After the fight involving Taurus Bulba, they’d all been locked away. Quackerjack had been his cellmate for a while before he broke out. He’d promised to come back and release Megavolt, but he didn’t have high hopes after months. Bushroot and Liquidator had been moved to remote prisons to keep them from being able to use their powers to escape. Megavolt was kept in the supervillain prison, with a new cell specially made. It was lined with rubber. No electricity. Just an insulated window. Even if he escaped through it, there was nothing but water underneath. But he’d kept his powers. He was laying on his back, letting small sparks fly between his thumb and index fingers. He’d be out soon. Quackerjack wouldn’t really leave him here.

It was boring here without the others. All the times they’d been arrested together and thrown here. They’d had separate cells but spent the rest of their time together, in the gardens, and ate together. He hoped Quackerjack would abduct them again soon. He couldn’t believe he missed them so much. He’d never used the word “friends” to describe the others. Only Bushroot and Quackerjack said it aloud. But it was true. And Megavolt missed his friends.

There was a dulled tapping sound on the wall of his cell. The bars were wrapped in rubber. There was no metal around the cell, to prevent him from electrifying or magnetizing anything. But he could talk to guards. There was no point eating in the cafeteria without his friends, so he had meals delivered here too. He looked up to see none other than Darkwing Duck standing there. Megavolt sat up, smirking. “Old pal, old enemy. Are you bailing me out or something?” he asked.

Darkwing solemnly shook his head. “Uh, no. I just came to talk to you.” He rested a shoulder on the bars, crossing his arms. Megavolt noticed something white, like a piece of paper in his hand. “It’s about your old cellmate.”

Megavolt’s ears perked up at the mention of his friend. He stood and went closer to the bars. “Did he finally get arrested? Is- Is he here?”

Darkwing sighed, shaking his head. “He’s not. He’s… Something happened during his most recent caper. He launched an attack on the Quackwerks company.”

“Of course he did,” Megavolt said, shaking his head.

“He turned the corporation into dolls,” he explained.

“Yeah, he has an issue with authorities.”

Darkwing sighed, biting his lip as he thought of how to explain the next part. “He did. Well he tried to do the same to everyone online the Whiffle Boy game.”

Megavolt raised an eyebrow. “That’s extreme.”

“I stopped it. But… I didn’t quite stop him,” Darkwing told the rat. He sighed, taking off his hat and running his hand over his head. “I tried to talk him out of anything irrational. But it wasn’t enough. He was upset and it didn’t go over well.”

Megavolt rolled his eyes. “Quackerjack’s impossible to talk out of things. Why do you think I robbed a museum dressed as a pumpkin? He can be persuasive when he whines.”

The hero groaned, shutting his eyes. “Just listen to me! Quackerjack was found on his ex’s doorstep.”

“He has an ex?” Megavolt asked.

“He did,” the duck answered quickly. “He’d turned himself into a toy on her doorstep. But the ray he used to do it fell and was smashed. We can’t really turn him back.” Darkwing held the piece of paper he was holding to the bars, letting Megavolt take it. “This was next to him after he’d changed into a doll.”

The rat forgot all about Quackerjack having a former lover when he took the paper.

Megavolt looked at the note, seeing Quackerjack’s handwriting. It wasn’t written as a scribble like usual. It was slow, like he had seriously thought about his words. The words were written at the bottom of a fold.

THIS IS THE
BEST I’LL
EVER BE.
-JACKY

Megavolt stared at the note, uncomprehending for a moment. He was hit by shock and denial so fast, he didn’t understand the meaning for a minute. Darkwing reached through the bars and slipped back the note. “I’m sorry, Megs.”

That confirmed it. Megavolt felt his chest tighten and his eyes got hot. “What?”

“I’m sorry. He’s gone,” Darkwing told him softly. He pulled back from the bars, pocketing the note. “The device he used was broken. The police can’t save him.”

Megavolt looked up at Darkwing, clenching his teeth. “And where were you when this happened?”

Darkwing looked him in the eye. “I was helping return the heads of Whiffle Boy to normal.”

“How?”

“There was a different ray that Quackerjack used on them-”

“Then turn him back with it, too.”

“We tried. It worked differently and he-”

“Why didn’t you stop him?!” Megavolt screamed, grabbing onto the bars and slamming himself into them. Darkwing had to step a few meters back to keep from being hit by the sparks of rage enveloping the villain. “Why didn’t you help him?!”

Darkwing put up his hands. “I tried confronting and talking to him. It didn’t work. He got upset with me and-”

“Bullshit!” Megavolt screamed. “Did you even try? Did you even-”

“I did everything I could, okay?!” Darkwing retorted. “That guy needed professional help and I wasn’t it. There’s only so much I could have done.”

Megavolt groaned and teared up. “We all needed professional help. And did we get it? No. We got thrown in prison. At least we used to have each other but because of you, I don’t anymore!”

Darkwing pointed a finger at Megavolt. “Don’t blame me for splitting you up. Mayor Owlson chose to do that.”

“I’m blaming you! I’m blaming you for Quackerjack dying!”

“That wasn’t my fault,” Darkwing informed him coldly. “I feel guilty enough for how my efforts failed. If I could go fix it-”

“You have his time top. Fix it,” Megavolt demanded.

Darkwing put his hands up. “I turned it in to S.H.U.S.H. and they dismantled it. They figured it was too dangerous to keep around. Quackerjack nearly unraveled St. Canard history with it.”

“You’ve used it. I was there-”

“I shouldn’t have,” Darkwing told his enemy. “My best friend nearly lost his life using it.”

Megavolt shook his hands on the bars. “And what about MY best friend? He IS dead!”

Darkwing watched and he hyperventilated, backing up. “I can’t apologize enough-”

“Then get the fuck away from me!” the rodent shouted, sending a bolt through his fingers that Darkwing barely rolled out of the way of. “Get out! Unless you want me to fry you to a skeleton, just! Get! Out!!”

Darkwing obeyed, running out of the hallway and leaving the premises.

Several minutes passed of Megavolt just being silent and taking it in. His breathing slowed to a stop as the realization hit him again.

Quackerjack was gone.

Megavolt gripped the bars as tight as he could, the rubber absorbing all his energy as he blasted it with lightning. He doubled over, still holding onto them. “NOOO!!” He gasped, bringing his arms back and falling to his knees. He started sobbing, tears flooding his goggles. He tore off the goggles and threw them down so the tears could flow down his face. A burning, tingling sensation hit his face as miniature short-circuits hit the tears. The rat hugged himself, gasping for air and gripping his own arms. “NOO!!”

Quackerjack was dead and gone. No more capers with him. No more creative ways to disguise themselves. No more designing machines together.

“Quackerjack…” Megavolt muttered to himself, shaking with a sob. Tears continued to stream down his face.

He remembered when the two had first met. Negaduck had them meet in his warehouse. He’d had his doubts when he first saw the jester. They shook hands as they agreed to cooperate on a task. When he’d static shocked Quackerjack, the other had just laughed it off. That night, as they’d placed the electro-slave device and fought Darkwing Duck, they just clicked. They’d been the two most dangerous criminals ever. They made an electrifying team. They did so much together. Both while working and just hanging out. They’d quickly gone from associates to partners. They were close friends. Best friends. Megavolt didn’t care about people. He cared about electronics. He cared about his projects. But Quackerjack? He would’ve given his life for him. He wished he’d gotten a chance to do just that.

“Why? Quacky… Why?”

Quackerjack was almost too pure for this world. He may have lost his marbles ages ago. But he was happy and sweet. He was friendly and bubbly. The public only saw the vengeful, destructive side of him. And he was all those things. But it was a good thing for Megavolt. They were equally as nuts as the other. That’s why they hit it off.

And Quackerjack was gone. Megavolt was left alone in the prison cell. Even if he ever got out, he didn’t have his Quacky to return to. He had no idea how to get to Bushroot or Liquidator. His bulbs had likely been confiscated by the police. There were none down here. He was all alone in this world.

He was alone. Megavolt felt his breath return to him in a painful sob. “WHY!?” He hugged himself tightly again, leaning over and sobbing. His sides ached. His face had mild burns from his short-circuiting tears. It wasn’t enough. He had so much pain now and no good way to get rid of it. So he just screamed and banged his fists on the rubberized floor. Every volt coming from him was absorbed harmlessly. Harmlessly. He hated being useless and harmless in here.

“AHH!!”

He’d kill the next guard that came to bring him a meal. Just to do something destructive.

Megavolt already missed his playmate.

___

Bushroot supposed this place wasn’t awful.

He told himself that every time the sun rose. At least he wasn’t being starved. He was kept in a cell with a glass door on the outside. Everything else was stone and steel. Solid stone walls and floors. A solid steel door. And a solid glass wall. All of it was thick to ensure he wouldn’t escape. He didn’t enjoy it. But the guards that brought him water were friendly. He got a large water bottle every morning. It occurred to him that the guards didn’t understand how he functioned. He shyly brought up his use for roots to one of the guards. At some point, she had just given him a metal dish to pour it into and left him to his own devices.

He’d forgotten what solitude was like. Even before his mutation, plants were his friends. He wasn’t allowed near them anymore. The police station had decided he was too dangerous with flora. His greenhouse was being taken care of by a small organization in the city. His favorite guard, who he’d never gotten the name of, brought him news as often as he could. He just wanted to know that all his friends were well taken care off.

Bushroot was well taken care of, too. He’d been provided with books and other ways to entertain himself. He was never quite bored, except when his mind insisted he should be bored. But that wasn’t as often as it could have been. His favorite guard always made sure to keep him from getting too stressed. Many guard let him sit and exist. She tried to keep him living.

He even got news on the criminal activity in St. Canard. Liquidator and Megavolt were still in prison. Megavolt and Quackerjack were the only ones still in the city. But Quackerjack had broken out again, working on some grand experiment. Bushroot was eager to hear how it turned out. He hoped it went well for him. Sure, Bushroot had strayed from villainy recently. He was planning to serve his life sentence and return to his greenhouse to turn over a new leaf.

Until then, he was left out in the desert. It was a solitary prison without many other inmates. He wasn’t sure who else was here. He wasn’t allowed to know that. He was sure it was just some F.O.W.L. agents. He didn’t care. None of his friends were locked away here. It had been decided too risky to allow them to stay in the same prison. That was fair. They had a tendency to collaborate and break out. The first few times, they’d waited for Negaduck to break them out or rescue each other. But they didn’t know where each other were, except for Quackerjack and Megavolt.

Bushroot’s pondering was interrupted by the creaking of a door. He looked up at the steel door, seeing it opened. “Bushroot?” his favorite guard asked. She stood there, holding it. “You have a guest. May he come in?”

“A guest? This must be my lucky day. Though I don’t see any four-leaf clovers growing in here,” Bushroot joked with a smile. The guard gave him a solemn, saddened look. That must have been a really bad joke. No plants grew here. The groundskeepers made sure of that. He shook his head. “Forget I said that. Let him in.”

The guard gave him another look before stepping out of the room. The door shut behind his visitor. “Hey, Reggie.” A short duck in all purple stood there, smiling gently at him.

“Darkwing!” the plant-duck exclaimed, grinning. “Take a seat!” he offered his single bed to his guest, backing over to the window wall. He sat on the floor in the corner to bask in the sunlight. There was lots of it beating down on the sandy land. “What brings you here?”

Darkwing took the seat he was offered and sighed quietly. “What have you heard about St. Canard since you were taken here?” he asked to start.

Bushroot hummed in thought. “A lot of news about my greenhouse. Ammonia Pine’s most recent attempt to wipe down the town. Mostly small crimes. And I heard Quackerjack was at it again.” He chuckled. “Something having to do with Whiffle Boy again. Is he going to burn down a new store or something?”

Darkwing rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s part of why I came to you. He already committed the crime and he did not get away with it,” he said. He looked firmly at something outside the window. “You see, he tried turning people at the Quackwerks into stuffed dolls. And then he attempted to attack all the people playing Whiffle Boy online. I managed to prevent the worst of it. But that wasn’t the end of it.”

Bushroot raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean? What did he do?”

Darkwing ducked his head to rub his eyes under the cover of his hat. “I- Well you see he paid a final visit to an ex of his.”

“What? Quackerjack was dating someone?” Bushroot interrupted. “Who?”

Darkwing looked up, hands gripping the edge of the bed. “A woman he knew while everyone was working at the Quackwerks company. But that’s not-”

“That’s great for him. Do you know why it ended?” Bushroot asked, curious what had happened with his dear friend.

Darkwing groaned. “Personal issues. Look, I’m trying to tell you something and it’s not easy. Just listen and stop asking questions.”

Bushroot shut his beak, taken aback by the tense tone of the hero’s voice. He stared at him for a moment. Darkwing took his hand off and wrung it in his hands to fidget. “That turning people into a doll thing I mentioned. Quackerjack had another version of the machine with him. He went to his ex girlfriend’s house and turned himself into a doll on her doorstep. The device he used was smashed. And we can’t figure out how to turn him back. He… he wrote something and left it by himself.” Darkwing pulled a slip of paper out of his pocket and stood to hand it to Bushroot.

The mutant stared at him in utter disbelief. Turned himself into a doll? He couldn’t be turned back? Was he hearing all that right? Darkwing’s eyes flickered to the paper, and Bushroot realized he’d just been staring at him the whole time. The villain looked down at the note, and the truth, which had been bubbling up, burst.

THIS IS THE
BEST I’LL
EVER BE.
-JACKY

Bushroot stared at the note for several minutes. The writing was legible. That was unexpected. He must have thought it out. “Sweet Gaia…” Bushroot muttered. This was a suicide note. From Quackerjack. Quackerjack-

“He killed himself?” the mutant asked, his words coming out in a sad whisper. It was broken, weak, and helpless.

Darkwing stumbled on his words. “No- Well- I… Not exactly. He just…” Darkwing never bothered to finish that sentence. He trailed off. Quackerjack wasn’t quite dead. But he wasn’t alive anymore either.

“Why?” Bushroot dropped the note by his feet, his leafy fingers trembling. His chest felt tight and his brain was swirling. “Why would he… What happened?”

Darkwing bent to pick up the note. He stayed knelt by the plant as he pocketed it. “I’m sure when you four united against Quackwerks, you noticed he was off.”

Bushroot thought back, tucking his knees to his chest and hugging them. “I knew he was more easily provoked. He was more assertive. I thought it was weird. But he was always functioning with a few screws loose.”

Darkwing sighed. “He experienced some things while working and kinda snapped. Between distrust, loneliness, and depression, he had a lot weighing on him.”

“What about that girlfriend? What did she do to him?”

“She loved him,” Darkwing assured the mutant. “She reached out to me to try and get me to help, okay? She was looking out for him. They broke up because he was struggling to cope. But she never stopped believing in him.”

Bushroot felt tears start running down his face. “He- We- We didn’t even realize. If we’d known he was, that he would… Megavolt, Liquidator, and I- Oh how did they take it?”

Darkwing sat against the wall and set his hat next to him. “Megavolt didn’t take it well. He blamed me for not saving him.”

“Why didn’t you?” Bushroot spat bitterly. “Huh? How come?”

Darkwing put his hands up gently. “I tried. I tried talking to him. To his inner child or whatever. I don’t know that it was so inner,” he chuckled dryly. It didn’t cheer up the villain. “It didn’t go over well. He got mad. There was fighting. I wanted to-”

“Well, you didn’t!” Bushroot retorted. “You didn’t save him! I don’t care if you ‘tried!’” Tears ran down his face. He wiped them violently, rubbing at his face with unnecessary force. He sniffed loudly and turned his face to look out the window. “Maybe if you’d sent him to a mental hospital instead of arresting him, he’d be alive and well.”

Darkwing groaned. “I don’t need two of you blaming me for this.”

“I’m not going to blame Tuskernini or something,” Bushroot snipped. “When you tell Liquidator, you’ll be lucky if you don’t get a custom ass-kicking.”

The short hero grabbed his hat and put it back on his head. “Trust me. I’m not looking forward to it. But I swore to tell each of you personally. It just seems wrong letting you find out through a literal grape vine.”

“At least a grape vine has more empathy than you!” Bushroot shouted, standing up. He leaned against the wall. “Leave me alone! Just leave-”

“I have plenty of empathy, thank you very much,” Darkwing said, standing with him. But he didn’t nearly match the plant’s height. “Look, Reggie. I’m sorry for your lo-”

Darkwing was slammed against the stone wall by a strong vine. The wind was knocked out of him. He fell on his hands and knees, trying to force his breath to work again. He was picked up by the throat, making this worse. He could feel the vines burning his skin and rubbing away feathers. “Don’t call me Reggie! Never call me Reggie again!” Tears streamed down his face. “My friends get to call me that. That means Liquidator, Megavolt, and Quackerjack. NOT a pathetic excuse for a hero who couldn’t save one person from himself!” He tightened his vine on Darkwing’s neck. “You’re no hero! One of my only friends is GONE because you couldn’t save him! I had friends. Human friends. Good ones. And because of you, one of them is gone.”

“Bushroot!” a female voice shouted. “Leaves off Darkwing and on the floor!”

Bushroot recognized his favorite guard and withdrew his appendages. He dropped to his knees obediently and held his hands behind his head. He didn’t want to have to hurt his only companion out here. His companions were hurt as it was. Darkwing was pulled out of the cell, the guard asking questions about his condition. Bushroot heard as Darkwing started gasping again, muttering an assurance. The steel door slammed shut and Bushroot turned to look. The guard was locking him up. He couldn’t even feel guilty for assaulting the hero. He deserved it.

As he heard the two leave the section, Bushroot broke down.

No more being pestered by that jester. No more getting his plants trampled by toys. No more zany laughter. No more animated antics. No more Fearsome Four. No more Quackerjack.

“Quackerjack…” Bushroot whispered the name like it was sacred. It was sacred to him. The mutant leaned against the window again and slid down it. He felt his heart twist. “NO!” He held his head in his hands, trying to block out the pain. Why couldn’t it come on more slowly?? “I’M SORRY!” If only he would have noticed the signs. If only he would have helped him. If only he could have stopped him. If only he could have hugged him goodbye. The plant-duck dipped his head and whispered, “I’m so sorry!” Reggie just curled up in a shaft of sunlight and sobbed for his fallen playmate.

___

Liquidator knew he must be in a desert. There was no water around most of the time. Therefore, it would be harder for him to use his powers against his captors should he escape. But his cell was waterproof. No holes. No bars. The door was sealed glass that could only be opened from the outside. And it was extremely tolerable to temperature. He’d tried boiling and freezing himself to damage it, to no avail. He couldn’t slip through the cracks. There was a sealed circle on the front that the guards used to give him food. But it didn’t work from his side. Frustrating as it was, the villain appreciated the ingenuity of the patented product. Seeing as he couldn’t escape, he was waiting.

Waiting for what? He wasn’t sure. Bushroot, Megavolt, or Quackerjack to get him, he supposed. He missed them badly.

Bud Flud wasn’t a kind person. He had few friends growing up, and none since he inherited his father’s company. But working with the Fearsome Five was different. He’d expected a simple business partnership, with financial benefits and allies. Though they’d never enjoyed Negaduck’s company, the others had found some comfort in each other. They were all a little lonely. They all needed support, and they all gave it. Liquidator hadn’t been keen on hanging out after capers. It was Quackerjack’s idea. He was always the one trying to make the team get along. Liquidator appreciated the effort.

He’d found it hard to empathize with the group. He had less in common with them. He was the one neurotypical friend. The others functioned so differently from him. And over time, he’d developed a strong protectiveness over them. They were kind to him in their own odd ways. And, being the only member that could not die, he felt that he had a duty to keep them safe.

He couldn’t do that from here. The Liquidator was useless. And if he could find a way his container was imperfect, he would escape faster than you could say “Liquidator protection, 100% safety guarantee!”

His captors were not friendly. They never spoke to him. They gave him a bit of food every day. He’d eat in silence. Actually, he wasn’t entirely certain what he did could be called “eating.” He ate food, but it dissolved in his body rather fast. He wasn’t even sure he needed to eat. But the food here wasn’t awful. So he wasn’t going to turn down the opportunity to eat. He knew he differed from Bushroot in that way. He rarely ate. Sometimes, when they were all free, they’d hold up a pizza joint, or steal takeout. Bushroot would eat if the rest of the group was. Liquidator, however, kept eating so regularly, he couldn’t tell if he really needed it to survive.

As the canine was lost in his swirling thoughts, he heard a door open at the end of the hall. A few guards entered, escorting someone short down the hall. They stopped in front of his containment cell. Standing there, in front of the sealed door, was none other than-

“Darkwing Duck,” Liquidator said. He’d been laying in a plastic tub, his body halfway in puddle form. He rose up, flowing over to the door and raising what would be an eyebrow. “To what do I owe this great displeasure?”

Darkwing sighed, twiddling his thumbs. His voice came through muffled from the thickness of the glass. “News. There’s something you should know. I wish I could’ve told you this in private, but after my last meeting with a supervillain, I couldn’t take the risks.” He gestured to the guards on either side of him.

Liquidator didn’t like the sound of it. A meeting with another supervillain? And it made him paranoid about having bodyguards? Liquidator burst into rude, deep laughter. “How about that? Darkwing Duck is suddenly afraid of a supervillain. One explanation is that he’s losing his cool and his touch!”

Darkwing groaned, rubbing a hand down his bill. “Hoo, boy. I’m not in the mood for banter, buddy. This isn’t going to be easy for you to hear. I’d rather get it over with.”

Liquidator crossed his arms. “You come to my prison cell and refuse to entertain a conversation with me? That sounds like-”

“Please don’t be difficult,” Darkwing insisted. “You’re the sane one. You are perfectly capable of shutting your snout and cooperating.” He looked the villain in his bottomless eyes.

The Liquidator had to stop and think. Did he want to seek entertainment in upsetting Darkwing? Or did he want to know what this was about. He noticed how tired Darkwing was. What time was it? How had he gotten here from St. Canard? Why was he worried about security? What did he have to say? Why did he refer to Liquidator as “the sane one?” Did this have to do with the Fearsome Five?

“Hold on. Let me guess,” he said jokingly. “You need my assistance to help defeat Negaduck?”

“Liquidator, please-”

“I’m not taking any part in the affairs of heroism in St. Canard,” the canine said stubbornly. “I care nothing for you or what you have to say. The Liquidator inquires why he should listen to you after you locked him away from my team.” He crossed his arms, a soft sloshing sound as he did so. “I owe you nothing.”

“No, you don’t,” Darkwing said, starting to raise the volume of his voice. “But for pretty much killing you, I owe you something. So let me-”

“Oh, now you apologize for that,” Liquidator said with an eye roll. “You should have apologized when you knocked me into a vat of toxic water and melted my body!”

Darkwing’s pride overcame him. “Hey, hey, hey! The water was only toxic because you poisoned it!”

“It was supposed to be gross, not poisonous. If you hadn’t startled me-”

“If you hadn’t been committing a crime in the first- I didn’t come here to talk about this!” Darkwing said, gripping his fists and holding them at his sides.

“Your exact words, I believe, were-” He shifted his form to be short and clothed like Darkwing. “‘Cases are so much easier when the bad guy offs himself like that!’”

The guards gave weird looks to Darkwing, who pulled his collar and chuckled nervously. “Now, don’t go mincing my words-”

“I’m not mincing them. That was a direct quote by Darkwing Duck in 1991,” Liquidator mocked. “You enjoyed the thought that I’d personally jumped into the vat to off myself.”

Darkwing’s eyes widened. “No, I did not-”

“I bet you took credit for the defeat. As if you yourself had forced me to the point of suicide. Like that would be so heroic. Well I have a hot take for you, Darkwing Duck. It’s not.”

Darkwing groaned, rubbing between his eyes. “That’s not what I meant. Would you believe I felt guilty for that and didn’t know what else to say?”

“Of course.”

Darkwing’s face lit up a bit as he looked up. “Really?”

“Ha! No,” Liquidator told him with a smirk. “You have no sense of empathy. And therefore, you do not posses the true qualities we’re looking for in a superhero. Not to mention your lack of superpowers. Unfortunately-”

“Quackerjack is dead!”

Both of them fell to silence. The guards looked between Darkwing and Liquidator, frowning. Darkwing was breathing heavily, clearly distressed by the topic.

Liquidator felt himself go entirely still. Had he heard Darkwing right? Had he meant that? Quackerjack was dead? As if his throat had gone dry, Liquidator swallowed. “I may need you to repeat your previous statement due to a misunderstanding.”

Darkwing took a deep breath. “Quackerjack. He’s dead. He- He snapped and when his last caper failed, he… Well he actually…” The hero pulled a slip of paper from his pocket and offered it to the Liquidator. Since he couldn’t take it, Liquidator just stared as it was pressed against the glass for him to read.

THIS IS THE
BEST I’LL
EVER BE.
-JACKY

Darkwing’s voice wavered as he spoke. “He tried to hurt a lot of people in his last caper. I tried talking him out of it. I tried to calm him down and find a way to help, I did.” He teared up. “It backfired horribly. I stopped him from hurting all but one person. He- He turned himself into a doll like he’d intended for…” The hero swallowed and looked up at the other. “I worked with the police department to change him back but it didn’t work. He’s as good as dead.”

Liquidator felt his water run cold. In his horror, he didn’t notice his legs frosting over. “So he offed himself?”

Darkwing nodded, withdrawing the note. Liquidator almost reached to grab it, but his hand just pressed against the glass. “Please believe me when I say I’m sorry for your loss. If only I could-”

“Save the pity,” Liquidator said coldly. “And leave the premises immediately.” He glared at the so-called “hero.” Quackerjack was gone and no amount of apologizing would bring him back. The canine was glad he couldn’t exactly cry. He refused to let Darkwing see him that way. “Congratulations on defeating another bad guy.”

“Don’t pull that crap on me,” Darkwing said defensively. “I’m not proud of it. Despite what you and the others seem to think.”

Liquidator’s interest peaked. “Who else have you told this information to?”

“Megavolt and Bushroot-”

“How are you alive after facing them?” Liquidator asked. “Because if I wasn’t behind this wall, I’d force my fist down your trachea and give you a patented death by drowning!” He pounded a hand against the glass, a loud thud echoing but no damage being done. His body went from frosting over to starting to boil. “You’re a dead duck!”

A guard turned and nudged Darkwing to move out. As the group started leaving, Liquidator slammed his fist on the wall again. “I guarantee your doom once I get out of here, Darkwing!” he shouted. “Mark my words!!”

The door slammed shut and Liquidator only waited a moment before he broke down. “GAH!” He looked down. If he could breathe, he’d be gasping to keep himself together. But instead, he just pounded on the wall uselessly.

Quackerjack was gone. Megavolt and Bushroot must be crushed. Megavolt was the closest to the jester. Bushroot was so attached to him, all of them, really. And he could get so emotional. They were both probably so hurt. Liquidator was hurting, too. He hurt because he knew they were the only three people in the world who cared. Because he knew Darkwing wasn’t capable of mourning a villain.

But Quackerjack was no villain to them. He was a teammate. He was a friend. He was company, a source of laughter, and the heart of the team. He always brought them together, up until a few months ago when he reunited them. He freed them from a living hell and they had fun together. Sure, they got arrested soon after, but oh, how Bud had missed the action. He’d missed them all so much. And now he was feeling that longing tenfold. He longed for Quackerjack to lighten the mood but he was gone! He longed to find Bushroot and Megavolt so he could hold them close and keep them safe.

He couldn’t keep Quackerjack safe from here. He couldn’t keep the others safe. Knowing how wildly unpredictable and unstable they were- Oh god, he had to get to them.

___

Liquidator stood and faced his guard. She was going to shove a tray of food through the sealed hole like normal. But Liquidator had other plans. He focused in on himself and then on her, feeling the movement of blood through her veins. He held his arms out and seized that movement. She cried out in shock and tried to pull her arms back. It didn’t work. Liquidator bent his arms and started moving them both up and down. Her arms moved in sync with him.

“Ah!” She struggled against him but it didn’t work. “What are you doing?”

Liquidator moved his legs and she walked to the seal of the door. He didn’t answer, just struggling to grab onto it with the opposite movements. When he moved right, she moved left. He saw her fingers graze the lock and then reached to his hip. She pulled the keys off her belt and started meticulously using each one on the lock. The fourth one made the padlock click and fall. He dropped the keys and grabbed onto the latch.

“To answer your question,” he said quietly. His voice was full of venom. “I am getting the hell out of here, and you shall be my unwilling accomplice.”

Silent tears fell down the guards face as she felt her blood controlled by a supervillain. Once she’d undone the latch and swung the door open, he released her. The villain flowed out of the cell, swirling and spraying everywhere. “I apologize for any inconvenience. My intention was not to harm you, but unfortunately you came down to give me my rations while I was not at my best. I wish you well.”

With that, he splashed down and out of the hall. The villain found a window and leapt out of it. He was right. He was in a desert. The alarm was raised as he sped from the prison.

Now to return to St. Canard and find the other two.

Chapter Text

The flowers were blooming in the summer sun. The grass was a bright green, shimmering with dew. The vegetation soaked up all the water and sunlight, coming to life.

Bushroot stared out the window, not seeing any of the beauty outside. His blue eyes were glossed over. As a breeze moved a few flowers, he focused his vision on them. Two different kinds of plants swayed together. "Lupinus succulentus. Penstemon digitalis…" the mutant muttered to himself. He couldn't bring himself to remember their common names. He just stared at the colors as they danced together in the breeze, glistening with life.

A cold, bitter feeling spread over the plant-duck. How dare those flowers be so alive and beautiful? It was like they were mocking him. He felt so wilted inside. Tears welled up in his eyes again. All this crying was dehydrating. Maybe it would kill him. Bushroot couldn't regenerate if he was dehydrated. He didn't want to die. But he was sick of watching the guards go about as though nothing had happened. They just ran the solitary confinement as if nothing was wrong. The grass and trees and flowers just continued to flourish as though nothing was wrong.

He hated being the only one here who was plagued by grief. From here, he couldn't hurt the flowers that danced. He would hate to use his powers against plants. But it would just take a single thought to such the life out of them and watch the colors fade away. The world didn't deserve color. Nobody deserved such color and liveliness. They'd beaten down the most colorful and lively man in the world. If he was gone, how could the rest of the world have color?

Exhausted from the crying, Bushroot tipped his head back against the wall and shut his eyes. He didn't have to sleep. But he'd rather sleep than watch this world live.

When he came out of a restless sleep, Bushroot saw the dish of water had been refilled. The guards only came in when he was asleep or zoned out. Most were too scared to talk to him let alone be in the same cell. He was lucky they still gave him water. Moving to the bed on the wall, he dipped his roots in the coolness. Drinking up the water, he felt his whole body replenish and even turn a little greener.

As he got about halfway through, Bushroot stopped himself. He had to save water. They might not bring any for a while. He looked up and saw gray through the window. Good. It was about time the sky looked as desolate as he felt. Curling up in the corner, he watched for hours. The sky darkened, lightning and thunder blasting and flashing in the clouds. The rain started as a patter. The first one to hit the window made Bushroot jump. Then several more came quickly. The storm became heavy and loud quickly. The droplets violently hit the window. Bushroot just watched as the rain became hail. The splashes on the glass were accompanied by banging. His eyes drifted down, watching almost sadistically as the offending flowers from earlier were pelted and torn. The petals fell, hidden in the grass and out of his sight. Good riddance, he thought.

The hail got bigger.

Some of the ice might have been the size of golf balls. There was more lightning, closer by. The thunder shook the walls of the prison. Bushroot wrapped his vines around himself and shut his eyes, just listening. There were shouts from other convicts somewhere.

The thunder continued. The rain splashed on the large window. The hail slammed against it. There was a cracking sound. The mutant looked up to see that the side of the window was cracked and a piece was missing. He could grow out a runner and escape. It had worked before. Maybe when it stopped raining…

Where would he go if he escaped anyways? The supervillain prison knew better than to take him. Especially if Megavolt was still there. He had no clue where the Liquidator was. And Quackerjack was gone. All he could do was sulk in his greenhouse instead of here. This is, if it hadn't been destroyed or taken over. The scientist sighed and buried his face in his vines again.

He listened as water flowed in through the crack. The sound of flowing water was comforting. It reminded him of watering his plants back home. It reminded him of the Liquidator. Oh what he'd give to see the watery canine now! To be protected by the tall, sane salesman. He wished he could escape and be with him and enjoy what was still there for him in this world. His two remaining friends, his flytrap and greenhouse if they were still there, and maybe-

The sound of water flooding into the cell stopped, but it was still raining. Odd. Had something blocked the water? Looking up to examine it, Bushroot saw that there was no water actively coming in. There was a pool in front of him, though. The pool went upwards. Startled, Bushroot looked up to see a body of water standing there. Tears welled up in his eyes as a dog smiled down at him. "L- Liquidator?"

"Alive and in the flesh!" the literally bubbly voice replied. He then looked down at himself, the confidence leaving his voice. "Well, not quite flesh. But you get what I mean."

"It can't be. I have to be going crazy," Bushroot muttered, staring at him.

The canine crouched down. "You are not going crazy, my friend! The one and only Liquidator has indeed come to be in front of you. Not for a limited time," he assured, reaching and taking the plant-duck's leaf in his paw.

Bushroot felt the water touch him. His instincts went wild. An odd feeling of drink, no don't sounded in the back of his mind. What he was touching was water, but not-quite-water. This was him.

"Bud!"

The scientist shot to his feet, being quickly lifted off of them by the salesman. He laughed and wrapped his arms around the other's shoulders. "Oh, Bud I missed you!"

"That goes double," the canine said, wrapping his arms around the back of the other. "I would have been here days ago. But I had to use the rain as cover."

"Hey, that's clever," Bushroot said. He laughed for the first time in about a week. "You were always so good with stealth."

The dog practically surrounded his fellow villain with water, holding him close without intending on letting go. He could protect this one now. He had to get to Megavolt now, too.

"Did he tell you?" Bushroot broke the silence, still holding close to his friend. "Quackerjack is gone. He's practically dead…"

After a moment, he spoke, dropping the slogans. They had no place in this conversation. "I know. I'm sorry."

"He didn't deserve that."

"No, he didn't."

"He deserved help."

"Yes, he did."

"Don't we all?"

The Liquidator was quiet. The others deserved help. That didn't quite apply to him. He was always a crook and a criminal. The supervillain thing came after that. He wasn't broken or insane the way the other three were. He didn't deserve a chance. They did.

"Nobody should have the whole world turn against them," he said darkly. "He didn't deserve to be pushed away and to the edge that way."

Bushroot pulled away, his eyes looking dark. "Where's Megavolt?"

"Research suggests he is still in St. Canard," the water mutant told him. "We're going back for him."

Bushroot grinned. "And then we get revenge on Darkwing. And anyone else who contributed to this."

The canine released his friend and clenched a fist, punching the glass near the edge. He did it again. There was now a hole big enough for Bushroot to climb through. He helped his friend and then fell to the ground. His face appeared. "You run. I'll be with you, staying out of sight."

Bushroot nodded, watching the puddle race across the ground. He began to run after him, leaving the small prison behind. The world around him was gray and wet and miserable. And he hoped it would stay that way. The world didn't deserve color until it answered for what it had done to the sweet jester.