Work Text:
The humid September air of Hong Kong presses in, thick with the scent of jasmine tea and stir-fried noodles. World-famous Ducktective Miss Marjorie Mallard adjusts her sensible hat, her keen eyes absorbing every detail of the bustling street scene. Beside her, her accident-prone nephew, Willard, nearly trips over a stray cat, narrowly avoiding a cascade of wicker baskets. Chief Inspector Calamity Bufflehead, ever the picture of uniformed precision, wipes a bead of perspiration from his brow, his usual unflappable demeanor slightly softened by the exotic chaos surrounding them. He glances at Marjorie, a silent acknowledgment of her effortless grace amidst the clamor.
“Quite the metropolis, isn't it, Miss Mallard?” Calamity remarks, his voice a low rumble. “A far cry from the quiet quays of England.”
Marjorie simply smiles, a hint of amusement in her gaze. They hail a rickshaw, its polished wood gleaming under the subtropical sun. Lee Long Duck, a sinewy figure with powerful legs, offers a deferential bow before gripping the shafts. The rickshaw lurches forward, weaving through a vibrant tapestry of vendors, cyclists, and pedestrians. The rhythmic pad of Lee’s bare feet on the cobblestones creates a hypnotic beat as they navigate the narrow, winding lanes. Willard, wide-eyed, points at everything, almost unbalancing the contraption at every turn.
Suddenly, a sharp cry slices through the city’s hum. Lee Long Duck swerves, his muscles taut, but it’s too late. A dull thud reverberates through the rickshaw’s frame. A figure sprawls on the cobblestones behind them – a large, distinguished mallard in crisp, albeit now rumpled, civilian clothes, his features etched with shock. This is retired navy captain Marshall Gadwal. A small, intricately carved wooden bird, perhaps a souvenir, tumbles from his grasp and rolls harmlessly into a drain. The rickshaw screeches to a halt, the sudden stop nearly sending Willard tumbling over the side. Calamity is out of the rickshaw in an instant, his police training kicking in. He kneels beside the fallen captain, his movements efficient and precise.
"Are you alright, sir? Inspector Bufflehead, Hong Kong CID."
He pulls out a small notepad, his brow furrowed with professional concern, though a flicker of exasperation crosses his face as the crowd immediately begins to swell around them, murmuring in Cantonese. Marjorie, meanwhile, scans the immediate vicinity, her attention drawn not just to the fallen captain but to the frantic energy of the gathering onlookers, noticing subtle shifts in their expressions. She catches Calamity’s eye, a silent communication passing between them.
As if the incident isn't enough, the distant wail of a typhoon warning siren begins its ominous rise, echoing across Victoria Harbour. The crowd around Captain Gadwal instantly shifts, their murmurs turning to shouts of alarm. Panic, raw and unbridled, ignites. People surge away from the accident scene, rushing towards the ferry terminal, their faces grim. The calm, organized chaos of moments before disintegrates into a desperate scramble for safety. At the ferry terminal, the scene is already one of pandemonium. Ferries, packed to capacity, pull away from the docks, leaving behind a heaving mass of desperate ducks pushing and shoving, their pleas for passage lost in the rising wind and the insistent blare of the typhoon horns. Hong Kong, already a city of perpetual motion, now spins into a vortex of fear and disarray.