A/N: OMG it's done. I haven't beta-read this or anything; I just finished it moments ago and I just wanted to get it OUT here since it's been so long. So if there are any glaring errors, I'm really sorry, hopefully I'll fix 'em later!
Act IV, chapter 4
"I have ANOTHER run in my nylons."
"Ew, I hate that! You want my nail polish?"
"No, it's too late for that. Ugh, I hate it down here, everything's moldy and there are all these nails I don't see until it's too late!"
"The other day I swear I saw a cockroach the size of Mickey."
"EEK!"
"Mickey your chihuahua?!"
"Yep. I swear."
"Oh, that is SO gross!"
"I don't know what he's thinking this time. We totally have enough money to buy a studio."
"I knooooow, but when I tried to ask him he was just all 'a penny saved is a penny earned,' blah blah blah, and then something about shiny teeth."
"Maybe he could give US a few more pennies."
"Do you guys think maybe if we all went to see him together, we could ask-"
There was a crash, and the door to their dressing room flew open. All three girls screamed, and despite being fully clad in their Tuo alarm costumes they all grabbed for anything nearby to cover themselves.
The man standing in the doorway pointed a gun at them, and they all screamed even louder, but then he stopped and looked confused.
"This... isn't a hideout, is it."
It was that Darkwing guy. None of the girls felt like explaining his mistake to him. One of them picked up a paperweight from the bureau that held their mirror, and flung it at his head. It went too high, and only knocked his hat off his head, but as he turned to pick it up they had the time to take off running, screaming for their boss.
That scene had been positively surreal. Darkwing, despite his readiness for almost any situation, had to take a moment to recover from the unexpected sight of a trio of leggy alarm systems screaming and running for cover.
His moment of hesitation cost him, as a voice behind him cut through his befuddlement, and Darkwing realized he'd lost the element of surprise.
"Has this ever happened to you?" the Liquidator asked from behind him, his voice oozing liquid insincerity. "You knock yourself out, day after day, trying to fight the good fight. But when one immensely powerful supervillain comes along, you're wiped off your feet! Well, now the Liquidator has the perfect soluation: Give up now!"
Darkwing whirled about, his previously-forgotten gas gun now at the ready, but his foe was too quick for him. A moat of sorts had already begun to form around him, unnoticed; as he spun, the water sprang up around him, seeming as solid as dancing walls, radiating a familiar heat.
"This trick again, Licky?" Darkwing called, over the quiet rushing of the boiling water that now surrounded him. "They say repetition is the first sign of failure for an idea man."
"Typical of someone not in the business," the Liquidator tsked smoothly, sliding forward. "You're confusing the repetition of stale ideas with the maximization of results! Or in other words -" He stopped, and cocked his head as if considering something, then said, "If it ain't broke, don't fix it."
Darkwing didn't answer. Experience had told him that this water would be too hot to try to pass through on his own; his own senses reaffirmed this, as the water was close enough to condense slightly on his feathers and costume.
Of course, he knew perfectly well he didn't have to say a word; the Liquidator, like all of his enemies, was the type who relished his gloating time. True to form, the villain said smugly, "You can't truly think you haven't been expected. In fact, the schedule I drew up had you coming last night."
"It was my poker night," Darkwing snapped. He had about two and a half feet between himself and the walls of water; Beth had said these freeze bombs were good at both close and long range, but she hadn't said anything about how they'd work on water above room temperature. "But I'm glad to hear your faith in me hasn't been shaken, Licky. I knew all along all your talk of 'turning over a new leaf' was baloney, too."
"Darkwing, you wound me. Here at Tuo Enterprises and B.F. Industries, we make money the old-fashioned way!"
"You steal it," Darkwing finished for him.
The Liquidator scoffed. "Words like 'steal' get low scores in focus groups. This is just a simple 'cost of living' tax."
Darkwing snorted. "Nice. That sounds completely legitimate."
"The girls in marketing thought so," the Liquidator said amicably.
"So how'd you manage to set all the 2.0s off from here at the same time? Couldn't have been an internal timer, could it?"
"Oh, mercy no," the Liquidator said, chuckling. "Market research shows that best results come by striking when product saturation is at its highest peak."
"So you couldn't just pick a random day. You had to wait until you'd sold your way into all the houses in the city."
"Obviously."
"Uh-huh," said Darkwing. This wasn't news, and he didn't have much patience for it. "What, then? A remote control?"
The Liquidator laughed again. "You're asking because you think you're going to get out of here," he said tauntingly. "I'm going to answer you because I know you're not." The walls of water edged in, shaving about 6 inches off of the space between them and Darkwing. The vigilante swallowed nervously. Continuing as if nothing had happened, the Liquidator said, "It's much better than a remote control. It's easy to use and fun to operate! I have a full command center - oh, not in this section of the lair, of course. Only a careless fool would try to taunt you near the important machinery."
"Thanks for the compliment," Darkwing answered. That seemed like enough information; it would have to be, because the walls of water were closing in again, slowly but surely. He was about to run out of time.
He raised the gas gun and fired.
The effect was dramatic, and nearly instantaneous. The heat that had been pressing in on him dimmed, just slightly at first, then seemed to disappear almost like a vacuum to be replaced by a whoosh of cold. The water crackled as it froze, ice spreading in a concentric pattern around the walls that surrounded him, and in moments he was held in a steaming cylinder of ice.
Darkwing stepped backward until his back was up against the far curve of ice, and kicked with all his strength at the ice facing him. It smashed, looking satisfyingly dramatic, and he took off running in the direction the dancing girls had gone. The Liquidator looked surprised as he dashed past, and wasted a few moments just gaping. Darkwing hoped to be able to take advantage of those moments, but unfortunately he had nothing to work with except the seat of his pants.
What should come first: find the machine controlling the 2.0s, or take out the Liquidator? He checked his watch as he ran - the halls were filled with track lighting, so there was no longer an issue of visibility - and found he had only just over 30 minutes left to save the city. He'd been wandering in the sewers for longer than he'd thought.
With no idea where he was going, he took a left turn at random and fumbled within his cape for another bomb. He came up with a steam bomb this time. Well, the freeze bomb had been a big success; he could try holing up and waiting for the Liquidator to find him, and then take him out from a distance, assuming this kind worked as well as the other.
He set himself up against a corner that faced the entrance through which he'd just run, and held the gas gun at the ready. As the Liquidator slid into the room, a living wave in the approximate shape of a canid, Darkwing fired.
The supervillain dodged, bending his body in a graceful curve away from the projectile. The bomb hit the wall and bounced away into the corner, and as Darkwing cursed and grabbed within his cape for another shot, the Liquidator looked at the little sphere he'd evaded apparently on instinct. He chuckled. "What makes the melon ball bounce?" he asked, apparently to himself, and shot an arm over to the sphere. He picked it up in one hand, and turned to Darkwing. "And here I thought tricks were just for kids!"
He frowned, however, as the bomb fell to the floor. A hissing had begun, and it appeared to be originating from the end of his arm. The Liquidator brought his arm in front of his face, and stared at where his hand had been; instead, there was a puff of steam. The rest of his arm was dwindling, vanishing into steam, and the effect was crawling up his body. He turned an angry eye to Darkwing, who stood grinning triumphantly, pressed against the wall.
"This isn't over," he snarled, and leaped at Darkwing. The vigilante flinched, but by the time his foe reached him, there was nothing left but a cloud of steam. It burst in his face, uncomfortably hot for a moment before dispersing, leaving him and the wall behind him drenched with condensation.
Darkwing let out a breath in relief, and slumped against the wall. Perfect. He still had a half an hour to find and shut off the machine threatening the city. And he owed Beth - well, something.
Wringing out his cape, he stepped back into the room and tried to figure out which way to go. He was dripping - excessively, it seemed, worse than if he'd stepped into a sauna - but it wasn't as if you could expect an encounter with the Liquidator not to be extremely wet. He took his hat off, shook it out, and replaced it before deciding on a corridor leading off to the left.
Unnoticed behind him, the puddle he'd wrung out of his costume began to coalesce.
He'd been wandering for a while, in and out of well-lit areas, and hadn't come across anything; Darkwing started to accept that he had no idea where to look, and this might take a bit longer than he'd hoped. His spirits sank further when a familiar voice sounded behind him.
"All across America," it announced, "millions want to know: how many licks does it take to de-liquidate the Liquidator?"
Darkwing turned quickly, to find his nemesis growing behind him. As he watched, tiny streams flowed down the passageway and joined in the lengthening canid-shaped body of water that was staring him down.
"The answer? The world may never know," said the Liquidator. His eyes narrowed. "Darkwing Duck: Ask YOUR doctor about what kind of vengeance the Liquidator is going to wreak on you now that you've made him mad!"
A rumbling gave warning to the form that the Liquidator's wrath was taking, just moments before the walls surrounding Darkwing began to crack and water began to pour steadily into the hallway.
Darkwing turned and ran, with the Liquidator's laughter following at his heels, just barely outpacing the tidal waves that he could feel forming behind him. He turned down the halls at random, cursing himself for forgetting that evaporation wasn't a good option against the Liquidator. He'd tried it before; sentient water just became sentient steam until it condensed back into liquid form.
He wished there were a few more doors down in these halls; his legs would only keep him ahead of the rushing water for so long. The noise was becoming thunderous; he chanced a look back and nearly bit his tongue in two - the wall of water was closing in fast. Fumbling in the pocket of his cape, he closed his fingers around what he hoped was another freeze bomb, and flung it over his shoulder as he ran.
The change in the air was instant, and the sudden cessation of the water's roar was only a moment behind it. Darkwing dared to slow down and check over his shoulder again, but as his breath became a fog before him he already knew that the freeze bomb had worked.
Nevertheless, the giant sheet of ice that was reaching towards him was still a breathtaking sight. He sighed, allowing himself a moment to rest, a moment of relief as he considered the fact that the curving, grasping top of the water would likely have had him within seconds if the bomb hadn't worked.
A distant rumbling told him that Licky hadn't given up, and despite its size this wave clearly didn't represent the whole of the water available to use against him. He also had only one freeze bomb left, so he had to hang on to it carefully. He slipped away again, turning along corners, hoping he'd know what he was looking for when he saw it.
He darted around another turn and found a narrow hallway without any alcoves along the walls; the hall ended in a single door. The sheer drama of the set-up made Darkwing certain that he was within sight of his goal.
Stepping into the room, Darkwing let out a low whistle. He'd been right: he knew it when he saw it. This hulking piece of machinery, covered in blinking lights, was undoubtedly the slave device that Licky was using to control all the 2.0s. He approached it, looking it over carefully, and wondered why these things never came with an "off" switch.
There was no noise to alert him - at least, not that he noticed - before the wave swept him off his feet, slamming him into a nearby wall. Dazed, Darkwing shook his head, trying to figure out if his head was currently above water or not; during his pause, the Liquidator's voice came to his ears, as gloating as ever. "Away go troubles down the drain!" he said as he slid into the room.
Darkwing, determining that the off-balance feeling he was experiencing was a trick in his head and not a result of being submerged, put a hand against the nearest wall. "I think you've forgotten who you're dealing with," he said, trying to sound steadier than he felt. "I don't flush so easily."
"Clogs like you are tricky business," agreed the Liquidator. He raised his arms. "But the Liquidator has double the strength of Brand X!"
"Wait!" yelped Darkwing frantically, with little on his mind beyond fending off another drenching. Looking amused at the desperation in his tone, the Liquidator paused and waited. Darkwing cleared his throat. "I just didn't think you'd want to fight in here, so close to the - y'know." He shrugged, and pointed a thumb at the machine in the corner.
"That?" said the Liquidator. He smiled. "You don't think I'd come up with something that important and forget to make it waterproof, do you?"
"Well, no, it's not that," said Darkwing. "I just mean, what if something happened to it?"
"Like what?"
Darkwing appeared to think. "Oh, well, I don't know... maybe like... this!" He leapt across the room, landed on the console, and started pressing buttons at random.
Another wave swept him away, and he was pretty sure he slammed into the ceiling this time before hitting the ground. The Liquidator's laughter cut through him as he tried again to shake off his disorientation after landing. "That?" asked the Liquidator? "That won't do a thing! Our company makes all its products totally tamper-proof! Only the Liquidator knows the code to make any changes!"
"Laugh all you want," said Darkwing, "but this is one code I'm going to crack!"
"You'll crack something alright," said the Liquidator menacingly. "What will you do, Darkwing? You can't reprogram it, you can't shut it off, you can't even unplug it. And since the girls haven't mentioned anything about $100 billion showing up on our doorstep... it looks like you've only got twelve minutes before the 2.0s start really heating things up!"
Now that he thought about it, maybe he had gone overboard on the whole "home safety system". Although Herb firmly believed in "only the best" for his family, under the current circumstances he had to admit that, if he'd been willing to live without the Tuo 2.0, his family might actually be in less danger than it was.
Herb crouched behind his trusty sofa and tried to think. They'd gone for all the options, including the extras; once the system had activated, the bars had come down on the windows and the steel slab had shut down at the front and back doors.
It was the laser cannons, though, that he was really regretting at the moment.
At least there wasn't one behind the couch; that was a silver lining, because it gave them all a nice little hidey-hole for the time being. Too bad the one facing the front door also had a good view of the corridor towards their bedrooms - but then again, there were lasers in both the boys' rooms, not to mention the two that were in his and Binkie's own room.
Well, at least they had the couch.
He took another quick head count, and came up again with three; plus one for himself, and the whole family was counted for.
"Do you think it might have shut off by now, Herb?" said Binkie in a loud whisper at his shoulder.
On his other side, Tank said, "Hey Honkbrain, go check and see." He poked at his younger brother, who was curled up into the back of the sofa as far as he could get.
"Now Tank," Herb said sternly, "this is no time ta tease your brother. We got a little sitchy-ation here." He leaned as close as he dared to his youngest boy, and said gently, "Son, I need ya to just reach around the arm'a the couch there an' grab another pillow or two, okay?"
Honker looked pained. "Um, but Dad... the lasers are m-motion activated, and -"
"Honker," said Herb, using his Family Authority voice, "we all need to pitch in an' help out here, an' you're the closest to the end of the couch right now. Once ya get a pillow, I'll hold it up an' see if it gets shot at or not." Honker shot a look to his mother, and Herb silently hoped she would back him up.
"Mind your father, dear," Binkie said distantly, clutching at her husband's shirt.
Honker took a deep breath and slowly, slowly, began to reach up the side of the couch. Nearby, Tank chuckled low in his throat. He leaned forward as well, and although Herb couldn't figure out how he planned on helping, it warmed him to see the boys taking care of each other. Tank rose up, looking almost unaware of what he was doing, and peered over the top of the couch as Honker slid his hand farther along.
There was a zap. There was a yell. Smoke filled the room again, as did the smell of singed feathers.
Honker darted back around the side of the couch to safety, clutching a frilled, heart-shaped pillow and breathing quickly. Next to him, Tank sat down sharply, patting at a smoking hole in his forelock and whimpering.
"Way ta go, boys!" Herb cheered them, grinning proudly. "Great job distractin' that laser, Tank! An' now we know it's still workin'!"
Tank looked at his brother and made a noise that was a sort of half-growl, half-sob. Honker, meanwhile, said nothing at all; but he seemed to be smiling ever so slightly as he clutched at the pillow.
The slave device controlling the Tuo 2.0s was dripping. Darkwing, on the other hand, felt rather like he had been physically transformed into a body of water himself. He tossed his hat to the side of the room; it made a distinct "splop" noise and stuck where it hit the wall.
There was only one way to do this, Darkwing saw. He was going to have to get the Liquidator mad.
"All this planning," said Darkwing - "sputtered" might actually be a better term for it, but he hoped no one noticed - "and you're still too short-sighted to see that you were never going to get any money, anyway."
The Liquidator frowned, and clenched his fists. Darkwing winced, but no blow came this time. Instead, his foe began, "In a nation-wide taste test, more people preferred-"
"Maybe instead of a taste test next time, Licky, you should just hire someone who'll remind you that nobody can fork over $100 billion when they're all stuck inside!"
It took a moment to sink in, but once it did, the Liquidator was - for once - completely without reply. He growled, and raised his arms.
Darkwing reached into the pocket of his cape for his last freeze bomb. He could see the jet of water coming - it felt like everything about him was too slow, and there was no way he'd be able to get out of the way in time...
He dodged, barely, and tossed the freeze bomb into the path of the water jet. It struck where he'd been standing, moments ago: right up against the Liquidator's machine.
As before, the air went cold and there was an audible crackling sound as the water rapidly froze solid. This time, however, the crackling got louder; within seconds it was augmented with a creaking, a synthetic groaning that was identifiable, to those who knew what to listen for, as the sound of metal being pulled apart.
The Liquidator noticed it a few moments too late. Darkwing, crouching on his knees after leaping out of the way of the water projectile, took advantage of the Liquidator's distraction to stand and catch his breath - and recover his hat - as the ice expanded within the cracks of the machine, tearing it into a misshapen mess.
It wasn't until the machine started sparking that the Liquidator moved again. He slowly turned his head, meeting Darkwing's gaze for a moment, his expression curiously blank until it resolved itself into one of deep fury.
Darkwing, as prepared for this as he could be, made a run for it.
Despite all the planning he'd done, this whole evening seemed to have gone almost entirely by the seat of his pants. As frustrating as that was, Darkwing still found it oddly invigorating. It was nice to know, at least, that he was still stupefyingly brilliant at making it up as he went; after all these years in the business, he still hadn't fallen into a rut.
With this in mind, keeping ahead of the Liquidator's mobile expressions of rage wasn't quite as much of a chore as it could have been, although he was really only just barely keeping ahead. But it could have been worse. For all that he'd been tossed around this evening, he didn't really feel bruised, and... well...
Okay, he'd admit it. He was enjoying himself.
That didn't answer the question, of course, of how exactly he was going to defeat Licky. At the moment he was too much on the retreat to come up with a good plan, but there wasn't likely to be much of a reprieve on that one. He'd better get thinking.
Noting a door framing one of the halls he turned into, he slammed it shut as he ran. A heavy thud told him that the obstruction had held; a moment later, a resounding crash was enough to assure him that the Liquidator's water jets had taken care of the obstacle.
He took another turn at random, and wished the sewers were a little more well-marked. So far he'd thought three or four times that he'd made it into an area he'd been in before, but nothing had gelled into real recognition.
A yank on his cape jerked him harshly back; one of the waves chasing him had sprouted a hand, and apparently a wrist as well, since it now spun him a few times and then sent him flying down the hallway, back the way he'd come. Cursing, Darkwing got to his feet and tried to make it past the watery sentry.
The hand blocked his path. He tried dodging to the left and then, at the last moment, feinting to the right, but it was no use; the water hand was really pretty clever considering it was a liquid representation of a disembodied appendage.
Over, around, or...
Darkwing let his arms hang at his sides, and slumped his shoulders slightly in what he hoped was the right kind of representation of giving up. He took a few steps back, gauging the dimensions of the thing as he did. Now that it wasn't chasing him, all its mass was in the shape of the hand, which easily was taller than he was.
He held his hand up in return, palm facing the ersatz one that was blocking him. After a moment, he waved. The hand waved back.
Bracing himself, he sprinted at top speed, and covered his face with his arm as he jumped right through the watery hand that guarded him. It burst apart, and he didn't waste time looking after himself to see if it was reforming and giving chase. Best to just assume the affirmative this time.
That had probably cost him nearly all the lead time he'd had. He couldn't afford another blockade like that; grabbing in his cape pocket, he pulled out one of the remaining heat bombs, and tossed it over his shoulder. No time to see if it worked; he had to keep going now, or he'd lose his lead entirely.
A few feet later, he pulled out the last bomb and tossed it, as well.
His chest felt like it was on fire by the time he reached the next door. It was closed; seemed like a good bet, he figured, so he pulled it open, darted through, and then slammed it shut again, allowing himself a few moments to lean on it.
The lighting was different in here, he noted, just before the sound of screaming filled the air.
Again.
The same screams as when he'd arrived, in fact. He wiped sweat out of his eyes and looked around, but only had time to take in the mirrors and robes before a chair came flying at his head. He ducked, only to be hit by a half-filled bottle of "Bud Flood" water.
"GET OUT of here!" shrieked one of the alarm girls. Close by, another one was scrambling for something else to throw.
Darkwing held up his hands. "Ladies! Please! Hey - OW! Don't throw THAT-" He ducked again, edging along the walls of the room towards the door that had to be the exit.
He narrowly made it out, and found himself in the dark corridor that had led him to the Liquidator's hideout in the first place. He set off down the dark hallway as quickly as he dared to move, struggling to find his flashlight among the other things he had hidden on his person; in the process, his hand closed around the box of quick-dry cement that Beth had given him as a backup plan. Once he'd found the flashlight and switched it on, he drew out the box and squinted at it, considering.
Nah. He'd done that one before, anyway.
He tossed it over his shoulder and made a quick path through the sewer passageway.
The air inside the sewer hadn't been so bad. The air outside it, on the other hand, was sweeter than Darkwing remembered. It felt like it had been days since he'd been out in the open air, rather than just over an hour.
The newly-rescued city didn't seem to have fully accepted the fact that they had regained their freedom; aside from Darkwing, no one was out on the street, and most of the buildings running up and down the intersection were dark. His eye fell on one of the stores, and a plan began to take shape in his head.
Darkwing stood, relishing the quiet and peace, and waited.
It didn't last long - not the waiting, or the peace and quiet. Within a moment or two, the street began to shake like an earthquake was hitting it. The vibrations increased, until they couldn't increase any further: then the damage started.
Manhole covers flew off in all directions, shattering windows. The nearby fire hydrant exploded into activity, gushing its contents onto the street and into the sky. Even pipes began to twist below the pavement; Darkwing hoped they held, but then again if they didn't, it was about time the city poneyed up to update its plumbing system in the downtown area...
The rumblings in the street began to quiet, but the gush from the fire hydrant spouted even higher and as it rained down it took a shape: arms, a head, and finally legs emerged. These last stepped elegantly to the pavement, as though poured from a chalice.
"Pretty good entrance," said Darkwing, crossing his arms. "Been taking lessons?"
The Liquidator ignored his question. "This is your brain," he said, gesturing towards the window of a sporting goods store across the street. "This is your brain after ruining the Liquidator's plans." He clenched his fist, and the jets of water still pumping out of the nearby hydrant both changed directions and shot across the road, shattering the store window. The Liquidator grinned widely. "Any questions?"
"Just one. Did you make enough off of the Tuo scam to cover all of this, or are you going to go into debt once you're in prison?"
He ducked, but too late; although they were expected, the twin jets of water hit him full-force on his left, knocking him to the side. It felt like a two-by-four had been rammed into his chest and leg. He managed to roll with it, and got to one knee, then rolled back a little when the second attack came.
"Your time is up, Darkwing! The Liquidator kills bugs dead!" He was playing for keeps this time. Darkwing tried to lead his attacker's onslaughts down the road a bit more - about three more stores...
He regained his footing and managed to run a short distance, before he had to jump to avoid the clutches of more watery arms. "I don't know why you're so upset, Soggy! It's not MY fault you had a lousy business plan!"
That was a hit where it hurt. The Liquidator growled, and said nothing. Darkwing checked - yep, this was the right store. He took a deep breath, and stopped where he was. This was going to hurt.
There is an art to being thrown through a glass window. Darkwing had, of course, perfected it some time ago - though it wasn't one he got to practice very often, and as a result, his trajectory through this particular glass window was more luck than anything else. Aside from a rip in the sleeve of his costume, he made it into the window display of the home furnishings store intact (though, naturally, quite wet).
He grabbed the vacuum cleaner before he had completely caught his breath. The sign, advertising the merits of a vacuum that sucked up liquids as well as solids, fell to the ground. The cord, miraculously still plugged into the wall outlet from a much-earlier demonstration that afternoon, stretched as taut as it could go. And Darkwing called triumphantly, "Clean-up in aisle seven!" and pressed the "on" switch.
The Liquidator, just within range, had a moment to recognize his fate. He had less than a moment to react. The rush of the vacuum cleaner was pretty loud, so Darkwing wasn't sure exactly what he heard, but he was reasonably certain that he'd recognized a falsetto "What a world!" just before the Liquidator disappeared down the suction tube.
He switched the machine off, and waited.
All was silent.
Off in the distance, he heard a police siren; right here and now, however, he was the victor, the champion, and - or so it seemed at the moment - the only one left in the whole city .
Darkwing breathed in his triumph, and managed to feel satisfied with his solitude for another five seconds longer before it occurred to him that there was no chance he'd be on the evening news without a good video of that fight.
Stupid empty streets.
The sun had set, and no one had turned on any lights, so the house was dark.
Regardless, even in the near-blackness of their living room, it was still clear that the lasers had shut off. They weren't moving anymore, and the red lights on them had gone off entirely. Herb thought the bars had lifted from the windows as well, and he was sure he'd heard the steel reinforcement slide away from the front door.
"Herb," said Binkie's voice tremulously at his shoulder, "do you think it's safe to move yet?"
Herb considered the question, and finally shook his head. "Nah. We're all outta pillows, so we got nothin' to test with." He put his arm around Binkie, and with his other arm he gathered his sons close to himself. "Better ta stay here 'till mornin', and see how it looks then," he said reassuringly.
The family sighed, and tried to sleep.
Next: The Webfoot Chronicles! (wow... full circle!)
A/N: This is an abbreviated version of the notes I have for this story. The rest will go up when I (finally) post the fic on my website. Until then:
1) This story was originally written back in 1996, under the title "Liquid Romance". However, when I started to revise it, I soon realized I disliked nearly everything about it and I just trashed about 95 of it and started anew. The difference in the title reflects a difference in the story's focus: not only was the Liquidator the "b" plot, after the romance stuff, but the resolution was COMPLETELY different. I'll have more details in my later notes.
2) This is the second story that I have written "as you go" on and I have to say that I'm surprised by how much impact that kind of release has on the content of the story both in direct comments and in just general reader feedback. Mainly, when I started working on this fic I knew how the Drake/Beth conversation was going to go. I thought I knew how the LP/Beth conversation was going to go; a week or so before I wrote the scene, though, after having this fic percolate in my head for about eight years, I suddenly realized that LP was going to tell her how he felt. In all the years this story was in my head that had never happened! But it HAD to happen now. So it changes - well, everything, really. I have to rewrite bits of "The House on Avian Way", obviously, and rethink a few other things. But I'm glad he said it, because Gos was right: too many secrets and they'll all go crazy.
3) Other areas that were influenced by readers were the "reveal" regarding Licky being H. Tuo - I never intended it to be a big surprise, but so many people started saying it was obvious that I thought I'd better move the realization up or else people might start thinking the characters were dumb for not realizing. G And it was a conversation of sorts with icequeenkitty that made me realize that Beth could help DW in this case, using SCIENCE! So anyway, I have to give a big thanks to all the people who review and take an interest in the fics; you guys really make a difference, don't think you don't. :)
4) Licky's plot: Was really, really hard for me. One of the biggest hurdles in revising this fic was figuring out what exactly Licky was doing. Once I realized that, at heart, Licky is basically an extortionist, the plot fell into place a bit better. But it was still very hard; never, ever let anyone tell you that writing the Liquidator is not hard. THEY ARE LYING TO YOU. No, but seriously - his dialogue is hard but his character is even harder, since Licky is the only member of the Fearsome Five who only had one solo episode. I think he's quite smart and especially very business-savvy and sneaky, and although he's crazy, he's not crazy the same way that Quackerjack and Megavolt are.
5) And finally, the Beth/LP stuff. I know I left things pretty lousy for both of them. The next story is going to deal more directly with that aspect. Man, I'm so mean to those crazy kids! But to me, the better payoff comes with more struggles. Your mileage may vary. What will happen next? Will LP stick around after Beth's apparent rejection? Will Beth finally open her fool eyes and stop wishing for something she could very easily have? Will the next story actually answer either of those questions???? Please tune in and see!
6) Finally, I tend to drop little references to a ton of things in my fics. To keep the length down I am NOT going to mention them here (I never have yet anyway) but for those who are interested they will be in the notes I put up on my website (I always mention them there).
Story and situation copyright Rebecca Littlehales, 1996-2007. All characters are owned by The Walt Disney Company, and are used without permission, except for Beth Webfoot and the majority of the one-shot characters, who were created by me. This story may be duplicated as long as it is not sold or altered in any form. You may not make money off of this story. You may not find some bizarre way to make it into boxer shorts or something. Actually, if you do manage, let me know... Now that I think about it, that sounds interesting.