The publishing company's cafeteria was fairly crowded. Dozens of employees shuffled through the line to get their food, then found tables to eat their food before they had to get back to work. The cafeteria worker was so used to her job of cashing out customers that she didn't notice that the "Customer" was in fact a cartoon character until she realized that his tray held a lot more food than the average human could eat. That was when she did a double take and realized that the "Customer" was a fairly tall talking duck...Or was he a pelican? She really didn't know.

The cartoon duck took his tray to the far corner of the cafeteria where another cartoon duck was already eating from his less laden tray.

"Okay, D.W., I'm back," the first duck announced. His shorter companion took one look at all the food on the tray and flinched.

"Did you have to get that much?" He said in an exasperated tone of voice. "We're not stocking up for a SHUSH mission or anything, we're just getting lunch!"

"Aw, but I was hungry!" The bigger duck replied. He then took a submarine sandwich and quickly crammed it into his mouth.

"I know, but the publishing company's paying for our lunch, and I have a feeling that if it keeps up like this, it's gonna come out of my paycheck."

The bigger duck finished his sub in one swallow, then reached for another one.

"Y'know," he said around a beakful of sub. "For weird, beakless mutants, they make some swell food. Y'should have told me about this place earlier, D.W."

"Well, it's not like I was holding it back from you," his companion told him. "These guys hardly ever brought me here...And they say this is the first time I've been here in years. You wouldn't believe all the changes they've made. Especially what's on T.V. these days...Yeesh, the last time I saw this many commercials was when the Liquidator got ahold of Megavolt's thigummy...What did he call it again?"

The bigger duck polished off his third sub. "I dunno."

"Electro...Electro-something. Whatever. If my show was still on the air, we wouldn't have to worry about the quality of the stuff on T.V. My show's just what this battered, politically-correct world needs..."

He noticed several of the publishing company's female workers edging their way towards them.

"Look at this!" He told the taller duck in a whisper. "It seems I've attracted some fans! This could take a while."

By this point, the ladies had gotten within speaking distance.

"H-hi," one of them said shyly. "I used to watch your show when I was a kid, and I was wondering if I could have your autograph."

"Well, of course you can!" The shorter Duck said cheerfully. He whipped a pen out of his cape. "What was your name again?"

"Um, I didn't mean you," the girl told him. "I meant Launchpad..."

"What?" The shorter duck whined.

"You were my favorite character on 'Ducktales,'" the girl said turning to the bigger duck. "I never understood why you left."

"Huh? You want my autograph?" The bigger duck said, surprised. "I don't have a pen on me...D.W., can I borrow yours?"

"Wait, wait a minute," the shorter duck spluttered. "You're trying to tell me that..That...He had his own T.V. show?!"

"Well, yeah...You've never heard of 'Ducktales' before? Your show was a spinoff of it, you know."

The shorter duck's jaw hit the floor. Literally. He fumed unintelligibly for a few seconds before storming out of the cafeteria in a huff. Two minutes later, the editor who was working with the ducks headed into the cafeteria. He noticed the taller duck talking to the girls and made a beeline for them.

"...And I really think you could do better back in Duckburg," one of the girls was saying to him.

"Sorry, Miss," the duck responded. "Things were gettin' too settled there, and besides, I like it over in St. Canard."

"Um, excuse me," the editor interrupted politely. "Where'd Darkwing go?"

"D.W.? He headed that way," the duck pointed to the other entrance. "I don't think he was too happy, though. Probably because I bought all that food...That reminds me, I haven't finished my lunch yet."

"Thanks," the editor told him.

The shorter duck was in the corridor outside the cafeteria, pacing around as he ranted and raved.

"That thick-headed, blundering, aviator had his own show all along...And he gets all the fangirls, too! Of all the lousy...Grr!"

The editor wondered if other editors had this problem. Probably not, how many other editors worked with cartoon characters? Especially egomaniacal cartoon characters?

"Mister duck?" He began tentatively. The duck threw a killing glare at him.

"Oh, look who's here," he said sarcastically. "You could've told me that Launchpad was on another show, or that my show was a spinoff of said show...How could you make my show into a spinoff?! I deserve my own spotlight, a whole show to myself! Instead, I get lumped in with a different show..."

"Yes, I know," the editor said, trying to cut off the duck's ranting before he could get any further. "We didn't tell you about it, because we thought you already knew. We were wrong."

"I'll say you were. Why couldn't you have made my show first?!"

"Because..." The editor thought fast. "Er, because we weren't sure if the world was ready for you. Y-Your world was so big that we had to split it up into two parts to prepare the audience for you, so that's why we made 'Ducktales.'"

"Really?" The duck asked, then coughed awkwardly. "Of course you did. My world's a vastly different place from yours, so I shouldn't blame you guys for introducing the audience to it with that other show. So, what did you want, anyways?"

The editor tried his best not to roll his eyes at the duck's ego in action.

"Well, I asked you to bring Launchpad this time because I wanted you to do a story about him. He's the only one of the 'big trio' you haven't done."

"Launchpad? Aw, but I wanted to do 'The triumphant triumph of Darkwing Duck' this time..."

"Yeah I know, but there'll be plenty of time for that one later. Right now we want to get all the major characters out of the way."

"Okay okay, I'll do that story for you," the duck grumbled grudgingly. That was when his bigger companion poked his head into the corridor.

"Hey D.W.," he said. "You wouldn't happen to have an extra pen on you? That other one you gave me ran out...There's a lot of people that want my autograph for some weird reason."

Part 5: Out of Flight

I'd like to tell you that this day has been one of the best in my life...But, it's not. First, I find out that my sidekick had a show before I did, then I discover that my show is considered a spinoff of said show. What's next, T. showing Saturday morning cartoons?!

Anyways, I've been told that Launchpad's actually a bit of a minor character on that other show, which makes me feel slightly better at least. He's definitely got a bigger role on my show. Without him, my job would be a lot harder...I mean, not that it's easy or anything.

So, you want a story about my sidekick? Well, this one begins at home. I had just gotten up promptly at the crack of Noon, and was in the process of waking up with a cup of coffee.

"Morning, D.W." Launchpad called cheerfully as he entered the kitchen.

"Morning," I replied, taking another swig of coffee. What should I do today, I wondered. Maybe find a few gangs to lock up, or maybe stock up on my neverending supply of 8x10 glossies? Or even better, I realized. That new horror flick was opening tonight. Maybe Morgana'd want to go see it with me?

I spotted the newspaper across the table from me. If I wanted to go on a nice date, it would help if I knew when the movie started. I started to reach for the newspaper, only to find Launchpad grabbing it first.

"Hey, can I have the movie section?" I asked, as he began flipping through the paper.

"Huh? What for?"

"Well, I was thinking of asking Morgana if she wanted to go see 'It came from the Birdhouse' tonight, and..."

"Tonight?! You can't do that," he exclaimed.

"Why not?" I whined irritably. "It's not like Morgana's afraid of some horror flick, and I deserve a break from getting dangerous for one night."

"But, tonight's the night my family's supposed to get here, remember? They're gonna fly in that big air show at Westunder."

Now that he'd mentioned it, I did remember him saying something about his family coming. That had been about two minutes before we'd gotten into a big car chase with some dastardly delinquents, so I hadn't exactly been listening when he'd told me.

"Oh yeah," I said, attempting to think of a way out of this. The last thing I needed right now was a family reunion...Which wasn't even my family! Especially if the rest of the family in question was anything like Launchpad!

"Look, Launchpad," I told him, trying to talk him out of including me in his plans. "I'd really like to come with you and meet your family and all, but..." I thought of an excuse to use. "But, I'm feeling a little under the weather tonight. Maybe another time?"

"Aw, but I told 'em you were comin'," he protested. "Hey wait a minute, how come you're healthy enough to go out with Morgana, but not to meet my family?!"

"Um, because she likes her guys pale?" It was pathetic, I know, but it was all I could think of off the top of my head. Besides, for all I know, she really did like her guys pale.

"Now, D.W., I might be a little thick-headed, but I know where my marbles are," Launchpad said. "You aren't really sick, are you? 'Cause they've really been lookin' forward to this..."

I sighed and reached for the paper again. Anything to avoid listening to him go on about his family...

"...An' they're really big fans..." It was the word "Fans" that caught my ear. I pulled my beak out of the paper.

"What?"

"I said, they're really big fans of yours. I guess it was all the letters to home about the big adventures you have. They must've liked what they heard, because they're almost bigger fans than me!"

Now that of course changed everything. I always appreciated adoring fans, and my autographing hand hadn't been getting much exercise lately...Besides the occasional warm up to keep in shape.

"Er...Now that I think about it, I don't feel that bad after all," I told him. Bring on those McQuacks, I thought. After all, how bad could a bunch of well-deserved fans be?

In the end, however, I ended up going to meet the "Flying McQuacks" not as my dashing crime-fighter alter ego, but as my secret identity...Mostly because I stood out a little too much in a mask and cape at an airfield. Speaking of which, Westunder Airfield was kinda boring, if you ask me. There wasn't anything to do but watch planes go up, planes go down, and to persuade Gosalyn that this wasn't some kind of big soccer field.

"I don't care how big it is," I told my daughter firmly. "You are not playing soccer here!"

"Well, it's not like there's anything else to do," Gos protested, bouncing a soccer ball from one foot to the other. Naturally, she had just come from soccer practice, and going by how hyperactive she was, she'd eaten something with a lot of sugar in it there.

"There's too many planes around, and it's too dangerous," I repeated...For the fiftieth time. "No soccer."

"Aw, this is no fun. I can't play, I can't even check out those cool planes..."

"Don't worry, Gos," Launchpad said. "When my folks get here, you'll see plenty of planes up close...Hey, I think I see 'em, now!"

He pointed to a bunch of what looked like miniscule specks off in the distance.

"About time," Gos mottered under her breath.

"Gosalyn!" I snapped at her in an undertone. "That's very rude, young lady! You need to show some respect for other peoples' families."

Although I hate to admit it, but I kinda agreed with her. There really wasn't much to do there. Fortunately, I don't think Launchpad heard either of us. He was gazing off into the distance, shading his eyes against the setting sun with one hand as he strained to get a better look at the distant planes.

"Hold on a minute," he exclaimed. "There's four planes..? Nah, those are my folks' planes, all right. I wonder who that fourth plane belongs to?"

The aforementioned four planes turned in unison, heading for a nearby runway. As they skimmed in for a landing, they all suddenly went into a loop-the-loop before pulling onto the runway. Launchpad whooped enthusiastically, and jogged over to meet the disembarking pilots. Gos and I followed, at a slower pace.

As we approached, I could see Launchpad chattering happily with three of the pilots, who were undoubtedly his parents and sister. The fourth pilot was hanging back by the planes. I couldn't help noticing that he didn't look like any of the McQuacks.

"Hey, Loopy, you still dyin' your hair? Ya look great. Aw, it's so good to see y'guys," Launchpad told his family cheerfully. "It's been, what, three years now? Wow...Oh, I almost forgot!" He gestured towards me and Gos. "These're the folks I've been livin' with. That's Drake Mallard, an' his daughter Gosalyn. This is my Dad, Ripcord, my Mom, Birdy, an' my sister, Loopy."

Ripcord McQuack looked a lot like his son. He certainly had the same build, as well as the same easygoing thickhead expression. As I stepped forward to shake hands, Ripcord gave me an enthusiastic pat on the back, which had the effect of almost knocking me off my feet.

"Darn pleased to meet ya," he said in a deep voice gone slightly nasal from the Duckburg accent.

"L-Likewise," I croaked, struggling to get my breath back. I then found myself face to face with Mrs. Mcquack. Birdy didn't look too much like her son. She was very short. although her handshake certainly showed an underlying strength...Which wouldn't be so bad except it was kinda my hand.

"Oh, Launchpad has told us so much about you two," she exclaimed. "Did he ever tell you about that time he won the soapbox derby? Why, he really made that thing fly!"

"Aw, Mom, that was fifteen years ago," Launchpad protested. "Besides, I kinda uh...Botched up the landin'."

"Like, you sure did, big bro'." His sister, Loopy, put in. "It totally went right into that tree." Unlike the rest of her family, I noticed, she had one of those "valley girl" accents. She had removed her flight cap to reveal blond hair, which at first surprised me, since the rest of her family seemed to have red hair of one shade or another, but then I remembered Launchpad's earlier comment about her dying her hair.

"I know," Launchpad groaned. "Did they ever get that old soapbox outta there?"

"Nope," his father replied. "It's still there."

"Yeah, well...I've been workin' on my crashin' these days," Launchpad said. "Why, I haven't crashed a plane in over two weeks!"

I rolled my eyes at that particular statement. Plane? No. Ratcatcher, yes. Right into a manhole. We were just lucky that we'd both gotten out of the way in time, and that Launchpad had been able to fix the stupid thing.

"But, we can't stand here jabberin' all day," Launchpad continued. "You guys are stayin' at the hotel down the street, right? I'll help you stow the planes an' get your stuff to the hotel, then we can go have dinner. My treat."

He made his way to the pile of assorted bags that the fourth newcomer was unloading and picked up the nearest suitcase. That's when he apparently realized that the new guy was there.

"Say, I don't think I know you. Er, are you one of the cousins, by any chance?"

"Like, of course not," Loopy said as she walked up to put her arm around the guy. "He's, like, my fiancee, silly."

"Oh, I see, he's your business partner, right? The one that handles the money?"

"No, that's finances," I muttered under my breath.

"Actually, it means we're getting married," the new guy replied.

Well, Launchpad being himself, it took a few moments for the full import of those words to register.

"That's nice," he said as he ducked under the wing of the nearest airplane. "So, how do you guys feel about Ham..."

And then, it obviously hit him.

"Ha...Ma...M-m-m-Married?!" He sputtered, smacking his head on the underside of the wing.

"Duh," Loopy snorted. "This is Dylan DiBronski. Dyl, this is, like, the big brother I told you about."

"It's nice to finally meet you," Dylan said. He was a skinny canid-like fellow whose demeanor suggested car salesman, rather than pilot. I think Launchpad was a little too shell-shocked by the news to really pay much attention.

"Hold on a sec, you're marryin' my sister?!" He yelped.

"Like, who did you think he's marrying, Mom?" Loopy retorted somewhat sarcastically.

"But...But...But, you're too young! Wouldn't it be better if you waited a few years? You're only twenty-one!"

"For your information, I just turned twenty-two, mister..."

"Hey, cool down, kids," their father Ripcord intervened. "I didn't fly five hundred miles just to hear you two arguin'. Now, let's get out stuff to the hotel, an' then we can have that dinner you were talkin' about."

Fortunately, both the hotel and a Hamburger Hippo were with walking distance of the airfield. It would've been a bit crowded driving in the car. Once we were at the restaurant, Launchpad began regaling the others with a retelling of one of my adventures.

"An' then, D.W. used the oil t'make that boat so slippery, that Steelbeak couldn't hold on," he said in between large mouthfuls of hamburger. "He dropped that weather gadget, an' the lightnin' from that storm blew that boat t'pieces! An' y'wouldn't believe what happened next, D.W. said I was a hero! Who'd have thunk!'

"Oh my, that Darkwing sounds like a real hero," Birdy chirped from where she was sitting next to me. "I hope we'll have a chance to see him while we're here."

"Don't worry, Mom," Launchpad said. "You'll probably get a chance. I've already told D.W. what big fans y'are. So, what're you doin' in the air show this time? The old Flippity Flop? The Screamin' Scooter?"

"All that and more," Birdy told him. "Your sister and Dylan are going to do something extra special this year."

"Oh, what's that?" Launchpad asked, as he swigged down some Cuckoo Cola.

"Only the Flight of Fancy," Dylan said. I had no idea what he meant, but I think Launchpad did. He suddenly choked on his drink, spraying soda everywhere.

"The Flight of Fancy?!"

"Like, totally," Loopy confirmed.

"What's the Flight of Fancy?" I asked, now wondering if I really wanted to know.

"It's a two-person stunt," Ripcord told me. "One person jumps off the plane, an' the other one does a quadruple shake-an'-bake before swooping in t'catch her at the last moment."

"Don't worry, there's a net at the bottom just in case something goes wrong," Birdy added.

"I don't know about this..." Launchpad said. "Isn't the quadruple Shake-and-bake a little bit out of your range? Y'wouldn't be able t'catch the guy in time..."

"Like, of course not, big bro'. Dylan's totally gonna do the Shake-and-bake."

"But, that means you'll be jumpin' out of a plane two hundred feet in th' air...An' I don't know this Dylan guy. I don't think it's a good idea for you to go jumpin' from a plane with a guy I don't know catchin' you."

"Oh, relax, Launchpad," Loopy said reassuringly. "We've practiced this like a hundred times, and Dylan's caught me every time."

"I'm sure he's practiced it with you, but the real thing's a lot different. I think you should do it with someone with more experience, like Mom or Dad...Or even me!"

"Oh, are you saying I can't do this with my fiancee?" Loopy demanded. I noticed that her normal "Valley Girl" accent had faded out a little.

"Well, I..."

"Dylan's more than good enough at flying to pull it off. Besides, it'll be totally romantic to the max! What could be sweeter than two lovebirds who trust each other enough to do a stunt like that?"

"Yeah, the crowd'll love it," Dylan agreed. "I can't think of anything that'll top it. So, are you doing anything in the air show? Whatever it is, I don't think it'll even come close to our Flight of Fancy."

"Oh, I know something that can beat your little Flight of fancy," Launchpad retorted as he jumped to his feet. "How about a Flingin' Spring?"

All four of the other pilots stared at him in shock.

"Like, wait a second, Bro'," Loopy said. "Nobody's ever done that before!"

"That's what they said about the Treetop Bebop," he replied. "I did that one...An' I'm still here, aren't I?"

"Well, why not?" Ripcord asked. "He's a McQuack, isn't he? If anyone can pull off a Flingin' Spring, it's one of us. So, who wants dessert?"

I felt a certain amount of relief later that night, after we escorted the McQuacks back to their hotel room. While they weren't nearly as bad as our pesky neighbors, the Muddlefoots, they were still a little too in my face for my taste.

"And, with the carefree pursuits of the day done," I monologued as Launchpad and I set out in the Ratcatcher. "Darkwing Duck finds himself fast on the trail of a gang of thick..."

"I still can't believe that Loopy's gettin' married," Launchpad rudely interrupted my monologue from the Ratcatcher's sidecar.

"On the trail of a gang of thickwitted theives, creeping ever closer and closer to the..." I tried to continue my monologue, but he didn't take the hint.

"I hardly even know the guy! I dunno...It just feels like she's growing up too fast."

"Oh, for...Will you stop interrupting?!" I snapped.

"Huh? Oh, sorry D.W. I didn't notice you were talkin' out loud to yourself again."

"Yeah? Well, try not to let it happen again, okay?"

"There's just something about that guy Dylan that makes me want to say 'Get away from my sister, ya punk.' I just want to beat him at his own game..."

"Yeah, sure. Whatever." Call me insensitive, but at that point, I had other things on my mind.

"That's why I told 'em I was gonna do the Flingin' Spring. I wasn't gonna fly in the air show, but that guy...Ah, what am I sayin'? I know I've been wrong before, look at Morgana. Besides, Loopy likes the guy...An' Mom an' Dad are happy that he can fly a plane, but I just can't shake the feelin' that that Dylan guy's bad news!"

"Launchpad, I know you're concerned for your family and all, but I think we have more pressing matters to take care of, like foiling fiendish plots, and putting scuzzy sinister scoffers of the law out of business." And of course, finishing my monologues.

"Oh yeah. So, what're we doin' tonight?" He asked.

"Lessons on how to act like a real crime-fighter, my enthusiastic acomplice."

"Aw, does this mean I have to wear that costume again? It works for you, but I don't think it looks good on me."

"Well, what do you want, your own show?" I snapped irritably. "Besides, the Darkwing costume will give you the psychological advantage of looking like me."

"Uh, how is that an advantage?"

"Do I have to explain everything to you?! Wearing the outfit of a well-known and extremely capable crime-fighter like me will make you feel like me. I'm the city's best defense against any kind of crime And what's more, criminals fear me. The knowlege that Darkwing Duck is out there, ready to pounce on any who mess around with my city's laws will make any would-be perpetrators have second thoughts. Besides, it'll make a good distraction. Think of yourself as being the one and only Darkwing decoy."

"Really? A decoy? I guess I can do that...But, won't that mean they'll be shootin' at me?"

"Well, um..." I struggled for a good answer. "They won't be able to shoot at you, because I'll be lurking in the shadows, and take them by surprise before they have a chance."

"Really? That sounds like a smart plan, D.W...But, I still think I look pretty dumb in your costume."

He was right about that, at least. I definitely looked better in my costume than he did. That was partly because my costume fit me. While I'd taken the time to let out the seams on "his" costume after the last time we'd tried

this, it was pretty clear that I hadn't let them out enough. The costume looked like it was tight as a rubber band on him, but at least it didn't look like the costume was about to fall apart this time.

"I dunno about this, D.W.," Launchpad said as he stepped out from the bushes where he'd been changing and pulled the mask on. "Purple really isn't my color, an' I look ridiculous. Can't I just wear my goggles down, or somethin'?"

"And ruin a perfectly good dramatic image?" I retorted. "C'mon, we don't have all night for this."

I had already found a good place to test out my new decoy. There was an up-and-coming gang called the Goofers who, I'd discovered, were holed up in a warehouse on Ptera Street. I positioned Launchpad outside the warehouse's door as I gave him some last-minute instructions.

"Now remember Launchpad, all you have to do is draw the Goofers out of hiding by making one of my trademark dramatic entrances, and I'll take care of the rest. That's so easy, a child could do it. You can do that, right?"

"Sure thing, D.W., but I still..."

"Good. Now get going," I told him, and swished off in search of a good place to hide.

I reached my hiding place behind a trashcan just as the show started. Launchpad pulled out a smoke bomb and set it off, that part of the plan went smoothly. What went wrong was that he was supposed to throw it to the ground. Instead, he kept holding it. As a result, the smoke got in his face, making him cough. I flinched in frustration. That was going to be next week's lesson!

That was when the warehouse door opened, and around a dozen or so Goofers spilled out into the street. "Goofers?" Maybe "Goo-rillas" would've been better, or maybe just that old standard, "Goons." They were big hulking guys, all of whom looked about as intelligent as a rock. Anyways, Launchpad finally realized that the smoke bomb that he was still holding was the source of the smoke which was making him cough, and dropped it. One of the Goofers kicked the still-smoking smoke bomb away, causing the air to clear up a little.

"Whew! Thanks, guys," Launchpad said. "You're a lifesaver. I don't know why he..." He suddenly realized who he was talking to. "Hey wait, you're those Gopher guys, aren't you? Now, what was I supposed to say? I am the tarot that flips in the night..."

I smacked my face in exasperation. Not only had he botched up an intro he'd seen me do a hundred times, he hadn't even pronounced "Tarot" right.

"Uh, I am...Uh...The fly on your windshield," Launchpad continued. "Er...Hey, D.W., isn't this the 'rest of it' you're supposed to take care of?"

I sighed and jumped out of hiding, landing on a Goofer in the process.

"For your information, it's pronounced tah-roh," I growled irritably. "What's the matter with you?! Can't you remember how to say 'I am the terror that flaps in the night?'"

"Well, I tried at least. It's kinda hard to remember all those lines with that smoke in my face. D'you have to use it all the time?"

"Well of course," I shot back. "The smoke is one of my signature items. How would you feel if you had to go through life without that flight cap? You just wouldn't be you! It's the same with me and the smoke..."

I would've gone on, but then I felt a heavy hand on my shoulder.

"'Ey, shorty, wot're you doin' landin' on poor Bugeyes there?" The Goofer behind me asked.

"Aside from discussing trademarks with my sidekick, I'm just taking out the trash," I told him, then I quickly grabbed the startled Goofer's arm and threw him into the pile of trashcans I'd been hiding behind. I then came up in a karate stance.

"Okay, any of you Goofers ready to tangle with the Masked Mallard? To be humiliatingly humbled by the likes of a real hero? To..."

"You tell 'em, D.W.," Launchpad called from behind the line of thugs.

"What is it with you and interrupting me tonight?!" I demanded.

"Sorry, D.W."

"Why don't you put a lid on it?" One of the Goofers asked from right behind Launchpad, as he shoved a bucket over Launchpad's head. He tried to pull it off, but I suspect it was stuck.

"Hey, what's goin' on?" Launchpad's voice was muffled from the bucket on his head. "D.W., can you give me a hand?"

"You'll have to wait a minute," I called back, as I nimbly dodged the Goofers'attempts to squash me flat. "I'm a little busy here..."

Another Goofer tried to sneak up behind me, but I saw him coming and deftly tripped him.

"Ha!" I exclaimed. "You may have bested my sidekick, but it'll take more than a gang of Goofers to beat me!"

All of a sudden, someone behind me shoved me down. Looking up, I could see Launchpad staggering around where I had just been standing, still trying to pull the bucket off his head. Then I was roughly pulled up into the air by the scruff of my neck.

"Well looky here," the Goofer who was holding me said. "We gots us a hero. Too bad he's about to become one with my fist!"

The remaining Goofers all laughed at his comment. I struggled to get free, but the Goofer's grip was too strong. I couldn't see Launchpad, but I could still hear him trying to get the bucket off. So much for getting help...

"Any last words?" The Goofer demanded. I cringed as I blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"Um, are any of you guys looking for a job as a sidekick, perhaps?"

There was a startled yelp from the line of Goofers. Turning my head a little,I could see one of the Goofers hopping up and down holding his foot. Next to him, I could see Launchpad stumbling around. I guessed that Launchpad had blindly stepped on the Goofer's foot in his effort to pull the bucket off.

"Wot is that idjit doing...?" The Goofer who held me asked. "Somebody clobber him, awready!"

Two Goofers detatched themselves from the main group, both pulling old metal pipes from their clothes. They walked up to Launchpad, one on either side, and lifted the pipes high, ready to swing. At the last moment, however, he staggered to one side, so that the pipes missed him. Each one instead hit the other Goofer. Both Goofers went cross-eyed, and fell over.

"'Ey, you guys stop playin' around an' git 'im!" The Goofer yelled. Another burly Goofer pushed back his sleeves, and stepped into the fray. He swung back his fist for a punch, but Launchpad suddenly tripped. He spun frantically about, trying to regain his balance, and as he did, one leg caught the Goofer in the stomach, sending the thug flying. Three other Goofers all tried to grab Launchpad as he regained his balance and resumed trying to remove the bucket on his head, but somehow he managed to duck at just the right time so that all they grabbed was thin air. Launchpad then staggered into the first Goofer, accidentally head-butting the astounded goon, and knocking him into his fellows.

The rest of the Goofers all glanced at each other, then rushed at my hapless sidekick. They all jumped on him in a dust-raising brawl. For a moment, I thought Launchpad was getting pummeled to a pulp, but then I saw him stagger out from behind the dust cloud, completely untouched...And still trying to pull the bucket from his head.

"Waitaminnit," the Goofer who was still holding me said. "How'd he...but if he's there, who're they fighting?"

The answer to that became clear as the dust cleared. All the other Goofers had apparently been fighting each other, and now they were all down for the count.

"Whoa," the now one remaining Goofer gasped. "What is he?"

"Oh, just my sidekick," I replied. Realizing that the Goofer was distracted, I quickly took advantage of it.

"Oh, and by the way, hee-yah!"

A quick kick to the Goofer's stomach, a karate chop to the head, and it was all over. I dusted my hands off as Launchpad finally got the bucket off his head and looked around at the defeated Goofers.

"Hey, ya did it, D.W. You took all those Gophers down!"

I coughed awkwardly. "I...Um, oh. I sure did. Yup, yup, yup, those guys tangled with the wrong duck."

Well, I did most of the real fighting. All Launchpad did was take a bucket off his head.

Later that night, I found myself in a even worse position. I had to persuade the unpersuadable, move the unmovable...Namely, to get my stubborn daughter to go to bed.

"You should've been in bed hours ago," I grunted as I attempted to pry Gosalyn from her video game controller.

"No way! I'm not going to bed until I finish this game," she shot back. "The princess can't just rescue herself, y'know. Besides, I'm not even tired!"

"For your information, this game comes with a save feature. Use it."

"Sure, I could turn off the T.V., but then I'd have to find something else to do...Like playing soccer!"

I flinched. That had been the main reason that I'd actually let her play the prototype game in the first place. Gos had decided that if she couldn't play soccer outside because it was getting dark, then she'd do it indoors. One broken T.V. antenna later, I'd given her "The Story of Zoe" to spare my sanity for a little while.

"Oooh no, it's definitely bedtime," I told her firmly. "Now save the game and turn off the T.V. already."

She glared at me, then went back to her game. She didn't go to the save menu, though, instead her character headed for the nearest dungeon. That did it. I grabbed the remote and turned off the television over Gos's shrill protest.

"Hey! I was playing that!"

"You can play it some more tomorrow," I told her. "Now it's bedtime."

"But, I'm not ready for bed yet..."

"Oh, yes you are..." I began, but was interrupted by the phone ringing.

"...Hold that thought," I finished, and grabbed the phone.

"Hello?"

"Hey, D.W." It was Launchpad. "Can ya give me a ride home?" I cringed. With Launchpad, that never meant anything good.

"What did you do now?" I asked irritably.

"Well, I was kinda practicin' the Flingin' Spring in the Thunderquack for the air show tomorrow, and it...Heh...Kinda got a little out of hand."

"Great. Any collateral damage?"

"Uh, what's that mean?"

"Did you crash into anything expensive this time?"

"Oh, that. Nope, just the ground. Don't worry, I'm okay...But, th' Thunderquack's seen better days. I think I'll have to use my ol' Joyrider for the air show."

"Never mind the air show...What about the Thunderquack?"

"It'll be okay, I can fix it in less than a week."

"You'd better," I growled, then suddenly had to duck as a soccer ball whirred through the air, courtesy of Gosalyn's feet.

"Will you stop that?" I yelped at her.

"I'm tryin', D.W.," Launchpad said from the phone. "The Flingin' Spring isn't exactly a walk in the park, but I told my family I'd..."

"Not you. I meant little miss Bigfoot over there."

"Who're you calling 'Bigfoot'?!" Gos demanded.

"Well, maybe if you'd stop breaking stuff, we wouldn't have this problem," I retorted.

"I keep tellin' you, I'm tryin' not to, but..." Launchpad replied, as he apparently misheard again.

"Not you, her!" I cut him off, frustratedly. "Where are you, anyways?"

"Right here, Dad," Gos called cheerfully from on top of the couch, picking up her soccer ball.

"Not you, him!" I groaned.

"I'm at Westunder," Launchpad's voice came from over the phone. "It was the only place that had enough airspace..."

"Westunder? Don't they close around nine?"

"Er...You could say that, but I didn't think they'd mind if I used their space to practice. It's not like I'm doing anything bad or anything."

"Great," I sighed. "Look, I'll be there in a half an hour..."

The soccer ball whipped across the room again, this time it bounced off the T.V. and into a lamp, making it fall over. I yelped and made a dive for the lamp, barely catching it in time before it could hit the floor.

"This had better not be broken," I told Gos, "Or it's coming out of your allowance."

"Oh, it's pretty broken, all right," Launchpad said from the phone which I'd forgotten about in my haste to save that lamp. "But, why're you talkin' about an allowance?"

I sighed. "Never mind. Just stay where you are, awright?" And I hung up the phone.

"So, we're going to pick up Launchpad?" Gosalyn asked as she picked up the soccer ball.

"Correction: I'm going to pick up Launchpad. You are staying right here and going to bed."

"Sure, Dad," she said in that voice that promised trouble.

"And I mean it," I told her.

"Whatever you say." Yup, she was definitely up to something.

I was just wondering if I should bring her along after all, if nothing else so the house would be intact when I got back. That's when it occured to me that this was probably some ploy on Gos's part to get me to bring her along.

"That's not going to work, you know," I said.

"What's not gonna work?"

"The agreeing with me...Oh, never mind. I'm going, and you're staying, you got it?"

"Right, Dad," she said. I glared at her, then took off before I could change my mind. As I swished off in the chair, I heard her say "Nuts...So much for the psychological approach."

One somewhat boring ride later, I pulled the Ratcatcher into Westunder's entrance.

"Okay," I grumbled under my breath, as I looked around the deserted airfield, "Where did that dimwitted excuse for a pilot get to?"

"Heeey! D.W.!" I turned to see Launchpad jogging up from the direction of the landing strip. He was trying to yell in a hushed tone, but he wasn't quite succeeding.

"There you are," I sighed. "Where's the Thunderquack? Or rather, what's left of it?"

"It's over behind that shed there," he said pointing to a nearby shed. "But, we got another problem. Someone's gonna try an' kill Loopy! We gotta warn her!"

"What? Wait, wait a minute, let's take this from the beginning," I told the overexcited pilot. "What exactly happened?"

"Well, I was practicin' the Flingin' Spring like I told ya earlier. I think I went into the anti-gravity corkscrew too soon. That's why I crashed. Anyways, after I called ya t'ask for a ride, I heard a couple of guys comin' towards me. I couldn't let 'em see th' Thunderquack, so I threw a tarp over it an' hoped they wouldn't see it."

"Oh yes, an excellent choice of camoflague," I groaned sarcastically.

"Huh?"

"Never mind. What happened then?"

"I put a tarp over the Thunderquack an' hid behind th' shed. That's when three or four guys came walkin' up. I couldn't see who they were because it was too dark, but I could hear 'em loud an' clear. One of them said somethin' like 'You got the money?' an' another one said 'Here's half, th' other half comes when y' finish th' job'. Then he said 'Don't forget t' do this before she takes off, we wouldn't want our little lovebird to miss her final flight on th' Flight of fancy,' and that's when I realized they were talkin' about Loopy. We gotta tell her!"

"Oh-ho! So there's a case afoot," I exclaimed. "Well, I'm just the crime-fighter to take care of it."

"We have t' tell my family, first," Launchpad said.

"Oh all right, if you insist," I sighed.

When we knocked on the door to the Mcquacks' hotel room, it was opened by a somewhat sleepy-looking Ripcord.

"Launchpad? What's goin' on, son?"

"Where's Loopy? I need to talk t' her!"

"She an' Dylan went out t' dinner," Ripcord replied as an equally sleepy looking Birdy shuffled into the doorframe.

"Why d'you need to talk to Loopy this late?" She asked through a yawn.

"Because someone's gonna try an' kill her at th' air show!"

Both parents instantly became wide awake.

"What?!" They exclaimed in unison.

"I was pra...Um, I mean I was out with D.W. here..." He clapped me on my shoulder, knocking the breath out of me. "When I heard three or four guys talkin'. One of them was payin' the others money to do somethin' to Loopy. They didn't say what, but the guy said somethin' like 'We wouldn't want our little lovebird to miss her final flight on th' Flight of Fancy.' I have t' tell Loopy right away!"

"Did y'see who those guys were?" Ripcord asked.

"Nah, it was too dark. I wish I had, though."

"You an' me, both," his father agreed. That's when I heard footsteps behind me. I turned to see Loopy and her fiancee, Dylan, approaching.

"What's going on?" Dylan asked.

"Why's everyone up so totally late?" Loopy added.

"We got trouble," Ripcord told them. "Launchpad said he just overheard someone talkin' about killin' ya at th' air show."

"What?" Loopy demanded, aghast.

"Why would anyone want to do that?" Dylan wondered.

"I don't know," Launchpad said in an exasperated tone. "I don't know why or how, I don't even know who would want to try anythin' like that. All I know is that they're after Loopy, an' they'll be goin' after her durin' the Flight of Fancy."

"Oh my," Birdy said. "To think that anyone could want to go after our Loopy..."

"Like, calm down, Mom. I'll totally be okay," Loopy reassured her. "I think that if anyone tries anything, it'll probably be sabotaging my plane, for sure."

"Of course," Dylan agreed. "All they'd have to do is rearrange the ejector seat a little, and she'd be in big trouble. I think someone ought to watch the plane for the night, just to make sure nobody gets to it. I'll volunteer for the job."

He turned to Loopy and kissed her on the cheek.

"I know you'll miss me, my sweet, but your safety always comes first. I'll see you tomorrow."

And Dylan headed off into the night. We were all silent for a moment after he left. Finally, Birdy broke the increasingly awkward silence.

"So, Launchpad, is your friend who I think he is?"

"Huh? Oh, I forgot! Mom, Dad, Loopy, this is th' hero guy I've been tellin' you about. D.W., this is my Mom, Birdy, m'Dad, Ripcord, an' my sister, Loopy."

As he finished the introductions, the three pilots stared at me with a well-deserved mixture of respect and awe.

"Oh, this is just perfect," Birdy said. "With a hero like him around, we don't need to worry about anyone hurting Loopy. He can track down those hooligans before the air show even begins."

"Well, I kinda need to figure out where to look first," I told her. "I'll start with a few questions for you, Ms. McQuack. Have you noticed anything unusual happening lately? People asking you to do things? Anyone following you?"

"Huh? No..." Loopy replied.

"Can you think of anyone that might want to hurt you for some reason?" I asked, trying again.

"No!" She said, heatedly. "I'm a stunt pilot, I don't do anything shady. I can't think of any reason for anyone to want to hurt me."

"I can," Launchpad interjected. "You're a stunt pilot, remember? We have high premiums on our insurance. Now, if something happened to you, who would get the money from the insurance company?"

"Hey, hey, hey, hey," I snapped, irritably. "I'm the crime fighter here, I'm the one who's supposed to name any suspects."

"Then, who do you think would want Loopy dead?" Birdy asked.

"Why, it's obvious. Her fiancee, Dylan has the most likely motivation. He's my number one suspect."

Never mind that I hadn't even considered him until Launchpad brought up that bit with the insurance. A suspect is a suspect.

"Dylan? You're totally joking, aren't you," Loopy demanded. "He wouldn't hurt a hair on my head! Now, you're saying he wants to kill me?!"

"Now Loopy, calm down," Launchpad told her. "It's not like he's the only suspect, just the only one I can think of..."

"Big brother, you're, like, flying a few quarts low. I think you made that story up just to get at Dylan."

"What? Loopy, Dylan might not be the one who's tryin' to kill you, but I know what I heard. I think you should be careful, tomorrow."

"And I think you and your hero friend had better find out who's trying to kill me for sure," Loopy retorted. "Because it totally isn't Dylan."

And she stormed off into the hotel room, presumably to bed.

"Oh dear," Birdy said. "Maybe I should talk to her..."

"Nah," Ripcord replied, putting an arm around her. "She's just upset because she really loves Dylan. Not that I'm sayin' anything against you, son," he added to Launchpad. "I'm sure ya heard what ya said you heard. But, Dylan doesn't seem much like the type t' want to hurt anyone, let alone Loopy. Now, I'm sure you an' D.W. there'll probably want to track down th' one that we're lookin' for...But, me an' your mother are gonna get some shuteye. It's gonna be a long day t'morrow, and I think we should all keep our eyes open for anything bad at th' air show. G'night, son."

"'Night, Dad," Launchpad replied as his parents went back into the hotel room and we turned away.

"Well, L.P.," I announced. "We most definitely have a mystery on our hands."

"I think we should go keep an eye on Loopy's plane," Launchpad said. "Loopy was right when she said that the most likely way t' sabotage the stunt was with her plane. We need to do a...What's that word you use for keepin' an eye on someone, D.W.?"

"A stakeout," I suggested pointedly.

"No, thanks. This isn't really the time for food."

I sighed and rolled my eyes.

The "Flying McQuacks" kept their planes in a large hangar on the far side of the airfield. It didn't take us too long to find it, as well as Dylan, who was sitting on a crate, keeping watch in front of the hangar's entrance. We took shelter behind a different pile of crates, with an excellent view of the hangar.

"What's he doin'?" Launchpad asked from behind me as I peered out from behind two crates.

"He's doing...He's doing...Absolutely nothing," I whined irritably. "How am I supposed to arrest him for wrongdoing if he's not doing anything?!"

I sighed and sank back down behind the boxes.

"This is so mind-bogglingly dull...I didn't even have time to pick up something to do while I waited. I have a feeling that this is going to be a long, boring, and completely uneventful night."

Launchpad crept up to take my place.

"Hey, I think I hear something," he whispered.

The beeping ring of one of those fancy cellular phones was what I heard. I got to my hands and knees and joined Launchpad at the gap between the crates, just as Dylan answered the phone.

"Now what is it?" He demanded. There was an audible pause as whoever was on the phone responded. "Yes...Mm-hmm...Make it silk. That's right. The finest, most delicate silk you can find...And make sure it's the right size,

too." Another pause, then "Of course I've got the rest of the money. I told you, I'll pay you after the air show, got that? Good." And he hung up the phone, and put it into his pocket.

"What was that about?" I asked.

"Sounds like he's orderin' a dress for Loopy," Launchpad replied.

"At this time of night?"

"I dunno...Maybe he was plannin' on surpisin' her with it."

Needless to say, that was the only thing that happened during the stakeout, and my prediction that the night would be utterly boring came true with a vengance. Early the next morning, I was awakened from...um...Resting up my eyes a bit by the sound of an airplane passing by just overhead.

"Huh...Wha?!" I exclaimed, jumping to my feet.

"Huh? Oh, you're awake, D.W." Launchpad looked all bleary-eyed, which was precisely how I felt.

"I'm always awake," I told him irritably, but I don't think Launchpad heard me.

"Hey, there's the others," he said as the rest of his family walked by the crates, obviously heading for the hangar. Dylan, noticing them, stood up and stretched.

"Good morning, honey," he said to Loopy. "I must've scared the saboteurs away, I'm pleased to report that nothing happened to our plane last night."

"I'll be the judge of that," Launchpad announced, stalking out from behind the crates. The other pilots turned to look at him as he joined them. I sighed as I stepped out from the crates myself.

"What're you doing here, big bro'?" Loopy asked.

"What's it look like? We were keepin' an eye on your plane."

"Now, isn't that a nice thing to do," Birdy said before Loopy could say anything.

"Aw'right, pilgrims, we'll take it from here," Ripcord announced. "You guys go an' get some rest before th' show starts."

"You got it," Launchpad croaked through a yawn as we both turned and started to go.

"Like, wait up, big bro'," Loopy called, jogging over. She caught up to us, then lowered her voice to an undertone.

"You were totally spying on Dylan, weren't you?"

"Well yeah, but..."

"I can't believe this! I told you, there is no way that my fiancee'd want to hurt me. Now, you leave him alone!"

"But, Loopy," Launchpad protested. "We were just keepin' an eye on your plane, that's all. It's not my fault that Dylan happened to be there too."

"Oh, really? And I suppose you happened to forget that Dylan was watching the plane, too? And for your information, he was with me last night. He wouldn't have been there when you overheard that conversation about trying to kill me. So, you can forget about him as a suspect for sure."

"Look Loopy, I'm just tryin' to look out for ya. Isn't that what a big brother's supposed to do?"

"I've got Dylan to do that. Now, you leave him alone, or I'll totally never talk to you again!"

And she stormed back off in the direction of the rest of her family.

"Aw, I really put my foot in it this time," Launchpad groaned dejectedly as we headed for the Ratcatcher.

"You sure did," I sighed. "Let's just get back home and get to bed. I think we both need it."

It seemed like barely five seconds had passed between my head hitting the pillow and my alarm clock going off around five hours later. I irritably lay there a few seconds, contemplating the many ways an alarm clock could be taken apart before falling back on my old standard. I grabbed the clock, and hurled it in the direction of the trash can. I had just gotten comfortable again when my "other" alarm clock kicked in the door.

"Up an' at 'em, Dad!" Gosalyn bellowed at the top of her lungs.

I opened one eye long enough to glare at her.

"You know, most kids just knock," I croaked. "Besides, the air show doesn't even start until three."

"So? I'm just making sure you're awake in time," she replied. "Besides, Launchpad's parents called, they want us to get the good seats before they're gone. Oh, and they said to pack us a lunch."

I rolled my eyes and levered myself out of the warm, cozy, bed.

Launchpad was already sitting on the couch as I arrived downstairs.

"Hey, D.W.," he said rather enthusiastically for someone who'd just had a night-long stakeout. "Gonna be a big day, eh? We gotta get movin', I wanna check on Loopy's plane. Oh, I already packed lunch. It's on the table.

"Yeah, sure," I grunted as I grabbed the picnic basket that was sitting on the table. I noticed it was unusually heavy.

"What's in this?" I asked.

"I just threw some food in there in case we get hungry."

I took a peek into the basket, suspicious of anything my absent-minded sidekick might have packed. In fact, my suspicions were proved right when what seemed to be the entire contents of the fridge leaped out at me, burying me to my waist.

"Aw, now you've gone an' spilled it," Launchpad cried. I shot him a killing glare.

"Maybe I should pack lunch this time," I told him pointedly.

We arrived at Westunder to find it was now a burgeoning bustle of...Uh...Bustling burgeon. Of course, there were a couple of differences this time. First, I wasn't Darkwing this time, and second, we had Gos with us. Naturally, Launchpad insisted on checking in with his family, first.

"How ya doin', son?" Ripcord asked as we entered the McQuacks' hangar. "Ya feelin' up t' the Flingin' Spring?"

"Hey, I'm always up for the Flingin' Spring," Launchpad replied. "Any news on Loopy?"

"Nope. Nobody tried to touch th' plane. I even took a good look under the hood, checks out fine. Your Ma an' I are also keepin' an eye on Loopy, too, just in case...She's not too thrilled with it, but she's not complainin'."

"That's good. We just gotta make sure nothin' goes wrong. So, is it ready?"

Gos and I exchanged glances, both wondering what "it" was.

"Yup, it's ready. It's in pretty good condition too, considerin' how much it's been through.

"What are you talking about," I asked.

"What else?" Launchpad said. "My ol' Joyrider. I need a plane to do the Flingin' Spring, ya know.

"What's a Joyrider?" Gos wondered.

"Here, I'll show you." Launchpad led us around his parent's planes and pointed to a somewhat battered looking old-fashioned biplane sitting over in the corner.

"I've had it for years," he said proudly. "It was the first thing I got when I'd saved up enough money. I've had it ever since."

"Y'know, it looks kinda familiar," I remarked. "I think I've seen it somewhere before."

"Well, of course ya did. Remember when we first met? This was the plane we were usin'."

I flinched as I remembered that particular adventure. I'd been in pursuit of some thugs who'd taken a whole train car up in the air. Due to an altercation with the giant condor who was owned by the felon who'd masterminded the whole robbery, I'd ended up falling in a hangar that had belonged to Launchpad. I'd talked the enthusiastic pilot into using the nearest plane to go after the train robbers. Naturally, that short-lived chase had ended up in a spectacular crash. Launchpad hopped up on the plane.

"This little baby an' I've been through a lot. Maybe even more than I have with you guys." He moved the cushion on one of the seats.

"H-hey! It still has that dent Mister McDee left that one time. He was pretty sore because th' plane was stalled, an' that Glomgold was gettin' away with the Whoozawhatsis idol. Everythin' turned out all right, though. Turns out Mister McDee's nephews switched the real idol for one of those cheap replicas they were sellin' at the resort. Those were some fun times..."

His voice trailed off as he suddenly remembered we were there.

"Oh, uh...You guys are fun, too. I'm just as happy here as I was back in Duckburg."

"That's a relief," I said gratefully.

"Yup. Got m'plane, got my friends, an' I'm all ready for that Flingin' Spring. Oh, speakin' of the air show, d'you have your costume with ya, D.W? I was gonna ask earlier, but I forgot."

"I always have it with me."

"Good. I think we're gonna need you around in case somethin' happens. You guys should go an' find some good seats in th' audience, I'll tell ya when it's time for Loopy's stunt."

Fortunately, there were still some good seats in the front row of the grandstand. Gosalyn and I took two of them at the end of one row. About a half-hour later, the show began. I'll have to admit, it was pretty spectacular. even to someone like me, who was somewhat used to aerial antics. It was with a certain amount of reluctance that I found myself de-craning my neck at a tap on my shoulder.

"Hey, D.W.," Launchpad said. "We're gettin' pretty close t'Loopy's stunt."

"Aw, all right," I grumbled, as I rubbed my somewhat stiff neck and reluctantly rose.

"Have fun, Dad," Gos said cheerfully.

"Oh for..." I groaned. There was no way that I was going to leave her alone at a big air show like this. There were far too many ways she could get into trouble.

"Is there any chance of finding someone to watch her in this?" I asked Launchpad.

"Actually, I already told my folks y'weren't feelin' too well, an' might have t'leave, so they offered t'watch Gos, just in case. They already did their stunt, anyways."

Once again, we headed down to the McQuacks' hangar. This time, two of the planes that had been in there were out on the lawn in front. One plane I recognized as the one that Launchpad had shown us. Loopy was busy cleaning the other one, I guessed it was her plane.

"Hey, Loopy!" Launchpad called as we approached. "Ya ready for the Flight of Fancy?"

"Well duh, we totally are," she replied.

"You got that right," Dylan said, as he stepped out of the hangar. "And it's going to be spectacular. Especially since none of us have seen any sign of trouble."

Launchpad cleared his throat awkwardly as Dylan passed us.

"Er, look, Loopy," he said. "I-I didn't mean t' make you angry this mornin'. I was just tryin' t' help, but y'know what I'm like. It happens all the time, when I try t' help, somethin' always goes wrong. I'm sorry about what I said about Dylan, too. He doesn't seem like a bad guy, an' I know I've been wrong before..."

Loopy put a hand on his beak, cutting him off. "Okay, big brother, apology totally accepted. Now I gotta get ready to the max for our stunt."

"Sure thing," Launchpad replied. "Take care, Loopy."

She waved an acknowlegement, then turned and went back to polishing her plane. Meanwhile, Launchpad led us back into the hangar. Inside, the two McQuack parents were busy doing repairs on one of the two remaining planes. Birdy looked up at our approach.

"Well, hello son," she said cheerfully. She then noticed that Gosalyn was with us. "Your father left, I take it? Well, that's a shame, but at least you can stay here and see the end of the show."

"Yeah, it's gonna be some stunt, huh?" Ripcord remarked. He tightened a screw on the plane he was working on. "Okay, that's done. Now, I think it's just about time to get started."

Dylan and Loopy were making the final preparations for their stunt when we stepped out again.

"Well, looks like it's time to go," Dylan said as he noticed us approaching.

"You take care of yourselves," Birdy told them. "And don't worry about the stunt, between Launchpad's friend and the rest of us, we'll get make sure that nothing goes wrong."

"Yeah! Knock 'em dead," Ripcord agreed, almost knocking Dylan over with a clap to the shoulders.

"Um, Loopy..." Launchpad began, but before he could get any farther, a fellow who evidently worked for the air show jogged over.

"You're all clear for takeoff," he called, then he moved on to whatever he was doing next.

"We'd better get moving, before the traffic starts up again," Dylan said, jumping into the plane.

"G-Good luck," Launchpad said, but he was drowned out by the sound of the plane's engine starting. Then, the plane roared into the air and was quickly lost amid the swarm of planes flying around.

"They grow up so quickly..." Birdy said softly, then she turned back to the hangar. "Well, we've got some time to kill before the stunt begins."

"The stunt's not starting yet?" Gosalyn asked, curiously.

"Nah, they have to get to position first," Ripcord told her. "The air traffic is always pretty dense during a air show, so it's usually a smart idea t' get in th'air early."

"So we have to wait?! Aw, that's major-league boring!"

"It's not that bad," Launchpad said. "Hey Gos, y'wanna see something cool?"

He pulled a small remote-controlled plane off a nearby table.

"This is Loopy's, but I don't think she'll mind you playin' with it."

Five minutes later, the airplane was zooming around the hangar, making crashes that made some of Launchpad's landings look good.

"Yer doin' great, kid!" Ripcord called over the sounds of the plane hitting one of the roof struts. "Try t'keep your nose low."

I sighed with irritation then yelped and deftly ducked, as the plane made another U-turn and headed straight for me. The plane missed me, and burst through one of the small windows on the sides of the hangar.

"Way to go, Amelia Earhurl," I groaned with a certain amount of exasperation. "That wasn't even your plane, y'know."

"Aw, don't be so hard on her, D.W.," Launchpad said cheerfully. "She's doin' better than I was when I was her age. I'll go get the plane back for ya. Y'wanna come with me, D.W.?"

"Sure," I sighed. Anything to get away from the crash crew for a while.

It actually took us a minute or two to find the model plane. I finally spotted it lying under a large safety net.

"There it is," I said, walking over to pick the plane up. "Geez, Gos really sent this thing flying, didn't she?"

Launchpad jogged over to join me. "Don't worry about it, m'Dad can fix it if it's busted."

I looked up as a real-life plane whirred by overhead, and then abruptly saw something that made me completely lose interest in the model.

"Wait a minute, that safety net's got a hole in it...It almost looks like the model made it."

"The model? Aw, D.W., don't worry, that net's made of genuine synthetic fiber, it's strong enough t' take a whole plane crashin' into it."

I squinted my eyes to get a better look at the net. That didn't work out too well, so I just pulled out the old magnifying glass to get a really good look.

"That net isn't fiber...It's made of silk...Really, really fine silk...It wasn't strong enough to hold that model..."

"But, that's the safety net for Loopy's stunt..." Launchpad began, as an expression of comprehension and sudden horror dawned on his face. "If Dylan misses, and she falls on it..." He suddenly broke off with a horrified gasp and quickly turned and raced off in the direction of his parents' hangar. I followed him, catching up with him as he yelled the news to his startled parents.

"Ma! Dad! We gotta stop th' stunt! The safety net's been replaced with some stuff that won't hold any weight! If Dylan doesn't catch Loopy, she'll fall right through the net an'...We have to stop 'em!"

"Oh, this is terrible!" Birdy exclaimed.

"Calm down, honey," Ripcord told her. "We'll just call 'em up on the radio."

"C'mon, D.W.," Launchpad said grabbing my arm. "I have a feelin' that the radio isn't gonna work, and my plane's all ready for takeoff."

"Right," I agreed.

It only took us a few seconds to get out of the hangar and into Launchpad's plane. Getting the plane started, however, took a bit longer.

"Come on, come on," Launchpad muttered as he attempted to coax the plane's engine to life.

"Are you sure this plane's ready for takeoff?" I asked irritably.

"Well of course! My Dad was fixin' it earlier, and if anyone knows how to fix a plane, it's him! Why, he could fix the Sphinx!"

"Oh yeah? When's the last time you saw a flying sphinx?" I retorted.

"What the heck is wrong with this thing?" Launchpad wondered. "Oh, I know!" He hopped out of the plane and pounded the hood of the engine with his fist. The engine purred to life.

"I forgot, th' old Joyrider's a little rusty," Launchpad told me as he returned to his seat. "It always gets a bit stiff after a checkup."

"Swell," I said as the plane lurched and started moving. "I'm flying in an antique airplane, with arthritis!"

I suddenly found myself thrown back into my seat by the plane's abrupt upward movement.

"Hang on, D.W.," Launchpad called belatedly. The plane bumped along the runway once or twice, then the ground dropped beneath us, and we were airborne.

"Awright, now we just gotta find Loopy's plane before they start the stunt," Launchpad said over the roar of the airplane's engines.

"Are you kidding?!" I shouted back, pulling out a pair of binoculars to look at all the planes buzzing around us. "That's like trying to find a needle in a flying haystack!"

"Aw, it's not that hard, ya just gotta know where t'look!"

There was a sudden crackling sound behind me as the plane's radio burst into life.

"Launchpad, come in!" Birdy's voice sounded very worried now.

"Mom? Did you get Loopy on the radio?" Launchpad asked.

"No, no luck there. We think someone must've turned it off. Your father's trying to get to the people running the air show and tell them to cancel the stunt, or at least to find a new net but that might take too long. You've got to get to Loopy's plane before they can start!"

"Roger that, Ma," Launchpad replied. I nodded, and went back to looking through the crowd of planes.

"I see 'em, D.W!" All of a sudden, the plane went into a steep left turn, which nearly made me lose my binoculars.

"Did you have to take that turn so fast?" I yelled back at Launchpad, as I took what could best be referred to as a "death grip" on my seatbelt.

"Sorry, D.W., this isn't a good time for arguin'. You'd better hang on, this is gonna be a bit tricky."

"Tricky?" I repeated, as I turned to face the front again. This is when I realized that we were heading for a absolute aerial aglommeration of airplanes.

"Gyaaaaah!" I yelled. Fortunately, Launchpad wasn't quite so easily rattled. Unfortunately, he wasn't inclined to take the dangerous path slowly, either. We hurtled through the lines of planes at what felt like breakneck speed. All I could do was close my eyes and hope that I wouldn't feel the impact of the crash. I could hear the buzz of airplane engines and the occasional startled yelp or loud cry of protest from the people piloting those planes. Then, after what felt like an eternity, the sounds stopped, and we were clear.

I opened my eyes to see that we were now heading for one small airplane out in the open. It took me a moment to realize that it was, in fact, Loopy's plane. I could see Loopy herself climbing out of the seat and waving to the crowd below from the plane's wing as the voice on the loudspeaker announced the debut of the spectacular Dibronski/McQuack team, and their death-defying Flight of Fancy.

"Loopy! Loopy, you've gotta stop the stunt!" Launchpad yelled. "The safety net's out!"

Loopy looked up and saw us. Her eyes widened in surprise.

"What?" She called.

"The net's out! Don't do it, Loopy!"

"That's absurd," Dylan said. "I can see it from here, it's perfectly all right...And you're getting in the way. Why don't you take your little friend and go cry wolf somewhere else?"

"Please, Loopy, ya gotta listen to me just this once! I swear, I'll never bother you again..."

Loopy's eyes narrowed, and she turned back to get into the plane.

"What're you doing?!" Dylan demanded. "Don't tell me you're actually listening to him. Why, he..."

"No, Dylan," Loopy told him. "He's right this time. When you said the radio wasn't working, that totally got me suspicious. I mean, my Dad went through the plane piece by piece before we went up. He'd never let me go up with a

broken radio. And, you might've been with me at the restaurant last night, but you took a half hour to use the bathroom. There's something fishy going on here, Dylan, and I want some answers."

"You want to fish up some answers?" Dylan responded. "Well, how's about you try going off the deep end!" And he pushed her, catching her off balance before she could get back into her seat. Loopy screamed as she fell from the plane.

"Loopy!" Launchpad cried, then I abruptly had to hold on for dear life again, as he pulled the plane into a steep dive after her. "D.W., get ready to grab her!"

We quickly pulled even with the falling Loopy.

"Grab on!" I told her, but as she reached out to take my hand, there was a sudden shuddering jolt, and the plane we were in was swept upwards. Looking down, I could see that the plane was being pushed up by another plane going up under it. Namely the plane that was being piloted by Dylan.

"No!" Launchpad yelled as Loopy once again fell out of my reach..

"I haven't come this far to lose my money to an idiot like you," Dylan snarled up at us. I realized that there was no way that Launchpad would be able to catch up to Loopy in time...But, who said that Launchpad had to take all the glory? I quickly came up with a plan, unbuckled my seat belt, and stood up.

"It's not over yet," I said, and jumped off the plane. Falling through the air, I once again caught up to Loopy. She stared at me in shock.

"What're you..."

"No time to explain. Grab on!"

Loopy hesitated for a moment, then flung her arms around me. I quickly pulled my cape up, making an improvised parachute of sorts. It slowed our fall to a gentle descent, letting us land safely on the suspicious safety net,which promptly broke under our weight, sending us plunging the final three feet to the ground.

I sat up and looked around. Loopy was already on her feet and taking a close look at the remains of the so-called safety net.

"That was so totally close," she said softly. "Launchpad was right..."

"Loopy!" I turned to see both the McQuack parents and Gosalyn running over.

"Are you okay?" Birdy asked as they got a bit closer.

"Mom!" Loopy cried, rushing over to her parents. "I'm fine. Launchpad and Darkwing saved me, but Dylan...He tried to kill me!"

"Oh, thank goodness you're okay," her mother exclaimed.

"An' don't ya worry about that lyin' backstabber," Ripcord added. "By the time we get through with him, he'll be wishin' he'd never met us. Hey, where is that backstabber, anyways?"

The "Backstabber" in question, having apparently realized that the game was up, was apparently trying to make a fly for it. He pulled his plane out from under Launchpad's and headed full throttle for the nearest way out of there. It took Launchpad a moment or two to figure out what was happening, but as he turned his plane to give chase, it wavered erratically and the engine started smoking.

"Aw, that doggone..." Ripcord began cursing. "That guy must've knocked th' exhaust pipe outta line. I knew it was a little rickety, but I never expected it to get knocked out like that.."

Launchpad was now struggling to keep his plane upright. It kept rolling to one side. Then, his plane suddenly veered to the left and went out of control.

"Launchpad!" We all cried. The plane headed right for one of the flagpoles that topped the grandstand, but the plane hit it at an odd angle, so that it didn't break the flagpole. As a matter of fact, the flagpole bent back, resembling nothing as much as a giant catapult.

That's when I heard the sound of a plane starting behind me.

"Loopy, what're you doing?!" Birdy demanded. I turned to see that Loopy had pulled one of her parents' planes out of the hangar.

"Like, what's it look like?" Loopy retorted. "That jerk is gonna get away for sure, if I don't do something...!"

But, before Loopy could take off, I saw a blur of motion out of the corner of my eye. It took me a moment to recognize it as Launchpad's plane, and piece together what had happened. Launchpad had either cut the power to his plane, or the engine had failed...

And without the plane pushing it, the flagpole had sprang back to its' normal position, sending the plane flying.

"Look!" Gos yelled, as the plane was hurled across the length of the airfield. It quickly caught up to the fleeing Dylan's plane and crashed into it, sending both planes spiraling into what might best be called a typical Launchpad landing.

We all started running towards the crashed planes. When we were about halfway there, I heard the audience break into cheers. Someone had apparently climbed out of the wreckage intact...And, if I knew anything about Launchpad, it was that he had an uncanny knack for getting out of even the worst crashes with only minor injuries.

And then, I could see the wrecked planes, and more importantly, Launchpad standing on what was left of the wing of his small plane, waving at the audience.

"Don't worry, I'm okay," he called. Then, he noticed us.

"Guys! Loopy, are you okay?"

"I'm totally okay, big bro'," Loopy answered. "Where's Dylan?"

"Huh? Oh, he's..." Launchpad pointed over to the other side of the plane, but there was nobody there.

"Er, he was right there a second ago," he finished.

"Aw, don't tell me he got away," Ripcord groaned.

"No, he didn't," Birdy said, pointing to the remains of a tent which had evidently been crushed by the landing planes. Dylan was in front of the entrance, looking like he'd definitely rather be somewhere else, anywhere else, as long as it didn't involve being surrounded by four tough-looking thugs, which of course was his present state. If fact, he probably would have made a run for it, if the biggest thug hadn't had his arm in a rather firm, and probably somewhat painful, grip. I quickly recognized the four.

"That's the Sufferage gang," I exclaimed. "They're goons for hire...If the price is right. What're they doing here?"

The answer became apparent as we approached them.

"What's th' big deal, landin' on our hiding place?" One of the Suffrages was asking Dylan.

"That's none of your business," Dylan snapped back. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some pressing business elsewhere..."

"I don't think so," the goon that held him said. "You still owe us half the money for replacin' that net, and we aren't gonna let you leave without it."

All of a sudden, there was the loud sounds of sirens appraching, fast.

"The cops!" another Sufferage exclaimed. "We gotta get outta here!"

But, it was too late for that. The tent was quickly surrounded by police cars, and all four Sufferages, plus Dylan, suddenly faced a lot of police guns. They pretty much had no choice but to surrender. We all watched them being led off in handcuffs.

"Just a minute, pilgrim," Ripcord told the policeman who was leading Dylan out. "I just want a word with this guy before he gets locked up."

"Sure," the policeman said, pulling Dylan over in front of us.

"Thanks," Ripcord said politely. Then he took a deep breath before letting loose on the unfortunate Dylan.

"You've got a lotta nerve tryin' to pull that off! Loopy coulda been killed..."

"Daddy!" Loopy protested. "Like, why don't you let me handle this? He was my fiancee, after all."

Loopy stepped between her father and ex-fiancee, then to my surprise she dropped the "valley girl" accent altogether, and took up her father's tirade where he'd left off in the same Duckburg accent the rest of her family used.

"I coulda been killed! An', all this time I thought you loved me! Now, I know you're nothin' but a slimy, swindlin' con man! Well, ya can consider the weddin' off!"

"Good!" Dylan retorted foolishly. "Who would want to be in an idiotic family like yours?"

That did it. Loopy grabbed him by his jacket.

"Don't you ever insult my family like that," she snarled furiously. Then, she swung her arm into a very hefty haymaker that left Dylan reeling back over to where the cop was.

"You about done, Miss?" He asked. "Let's go."

He escorted the dazed Dylan to the nearest police car, and threw him in.

"Whoa," Launchpad said as the car drove off. "Where'd you learn to punch like that?"

"Where else?" Loopy replied. "From Mom."

We all looked over at Birdy, who shrugged cheerfully.

"Well, it's not like I had to use it very often," she remarked. "But, a girl's gotta learn how to take care of herself, just in case."

The next day soon came, and it was soon time for the "Flying McQuacks" to, as Ripcord put it, "Take to the wild blue yonder." So it was naturally that the three of us had to say our farewells.

"Too bad y'guys can't stay," Launchpad said as he helped his family pack their things into their planes.

"Well, we'd totally love to stay," Loopy told him. "But, we've got a big stunt coming up in, like, that place out by the cape."

"We might fly over for Christmas, though," Birdy said. This had the effect of making me flinch. Don't get me wrong, I liked the McQuacks...But, I'd rather not have them in my place, where they had a chance of discovering my more heroic alter ego...

"Too bad your friend Darkwing couldn't make it here t'say goodbye," Ripcord remarked. "I never got a chance t'thank him for savin' Loopy yesterday."

I decided that that was an excellent time for Darkwing Duck to make an appearance, so I quickly thought of an excuse to get out of there.

"Oh, I think I left the oven on at home," I said. "I'd better go turn it off..."

"But, I just turned the oven off before we left," Launchpad said.

"Oh, er, you did?" So much for that excuse...I came up with another one.

"Um, that reminds me, I forgot to feed the fish. I have to go and feed it."

"Huh? What fish?" Launchpad asked cluelessly.

"Um, the...I..." Trust my sidekick to foil my excuses. Fortunately, Gos wasn't quite as slow on the uptake.

"The fish I won from the school fair the other day," she interjected smoothly. "I didn't get a chance to tell you because of the whole thing with your family."

"Yes, that fish," I said quickly, now very grateful that she was there. "I have to feed old Flounder. I'll be back!"

And I made a dash for the nearest broom closet. Not that there were many of those at an airfield, I had to make do with a shed. Anyways, Five minutes later, I sneaked back over to where the others were making their goodbyes.

"Well, D.W. comes an' goes," Launchpad was saying. "I'll probably see him later...But, I have a feelin' that he'll be here..."

"And, here I am," I announced, striding into plain sight. "I couldn't let you guys leave without saying goodbye, could I?"

The three pilots reacted with gasps of surprise and delight.

"Well, there ya are, son," Ripcord excplaimed. "I was just sayin' we never got a chance t' thank ya for savin' Loopy. We owe ya one."

"Oh, I was just doing my job," I said with a certain amount of modesty. I didn't get any further however, because Loopy suddenly wrapped her arms around me.

"Thanks for saving my life," she said. "You were totally awesome back there for sure. Hey, I was wondering, would you be willing to do the Flight of Fancy with me someday? Because I think you're really cute."

"What?!" I sputtered.

"I promise I'll totally work on the Shake-and-bake," Loopy continued, oblivious to my sudden discomfort. "It'll be fun."

"S-Sorry, Miss McQuack," I stammered trying to do this diplomatically. "Er, I already have a girlfriend."

She pouted a little, but I wasn't changing my mind. Loopy McQuack might not be too happy about the situation, but at least she couldn't turn me into a rutabega, like Morgana had that one time...

"Aw, don't take it so hard, Loopy," Launchpad said, cheerfully. "I'm sure there's a nice, single, guy waitin' for ya somewhere out there. Ya just gotta keep lookin', that's all."

"He's absolutely right, you know," Birdy told her daughter. "It took me a while to find your father, but it was worth every minute of it."

"Yeah," Ripcord agreed. "'Sides, I never knew ya t'give up without a fight."

"Well, what're we waiting for?" Loopy said, picking up on her family's enthusiasm. "There's a Mister Right just waiting for me, for sure! Let's go!"

It didn't take us too long to say our goodbyes, and the "Flying McQuacks" once again climbed into their airplanes and took off in the direction of the setting sun. Er, okay, the sun wasn't really setting, it was around Noon. I just thought the image sounded cool, okay?!

The three of us watched the planes until they were once again miniscule specks, and finally gone.

"Y'know something, D.W.," Launchpad said, breaking the silence. "I think it might have worked out. You an' Loopy, I mean."

"Launchpad," I groaned exasperatedly. "Need I remind you that I already have a girlfriend?"

"Yeah, but Loopy's a good girl. She's nice an' won't zap ya when she gets angry. Besides..."

"Oh for crying out loud," I snapped, pulling my hat down over my ears. "Enough already!"