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rebellingstagnationblog · 6 years

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“It’s The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year” by Andy Williams (Day 19 of 31)

For @teh-bluejay who asked for a GameStop employee interaction with Drake.

(I’ve never been to GameStop myself, but I asked a reliable source [ @historian-in-pearls ] and watched some videos online so I hope this is what you were looking for!)

Drake heaved a relieved sigh as he dumped his purchases on the register’s counter. Flexing his hands, he hoped the feeling would return to them soon. He really should have gotten shopping basket or cart or something, but by the time he’d thought to grab one, he had already been holding the wireless controller and travel gaming console and it would’ve been awkward to go back to the front of the store to get anything, so he’d just grabbed the last of his items and went to stand in line.

For half an hour.

Drake hated Christmas.

The cashier plastered a smile on as he began to scan Drake’s items. “How are you today, sir?”

Drake muttered something incoherent as he dug out his wallet, fingers still not quite fully functioning. He fumbled a few times but eventually wrestled it free from its pocket.

“Did you find everything you were looking for?” the cashier asked.

Sighing, Drake grabbed his credit card and tapped it on the countertop.

Eyeing Drake’s card, the cashier reached for a pamphlet and opened it, displaying it for Drake to view. “I see you don’t have our super savings shoppers rewards card, sir. If you sign up today, you’ll get up to 40% off on all of your items and points that you could use on any future purchases.”

“No, thanks,” Drake glanced at his items. “Just these today.”

“Are you sure, sir? You could save a lot of money—”

“Stop selling me more stuff I don’t need. Just scan my things so I can get home.”

The cashier carefully folded up the pamphlet, Drake running his hand through his feathers as he tried to keep his cool. It wasn’t like he’d been here for almost two hours between finding parking, hunting down his items, then standing in that stupid line.

Except, oh, wait.

It was exactly like that.

“Do you have the other version of this game?” the cashier asked, holding up the box with the cartridge in it. “If you haven’t played the first four, then this one really won’t make much sense—”

“Listen here you little parasite,” Drake snapped, leaning forward. He stopped himself from grabbing the cashier by the collar of his shirt, but just barely. “If you do anything but scan these things and then let me pay for them, I swear I’ll—”

A few screams emitted somewhere behind him and Drake glanced around, eagerly searching for the cause.

It wasn’t hard to find.

“Video games rot your brain. Buy a tasteful Quackerjack toy instead!” Quackerjack spread his arms out, releasing his hoard of toy soldiers, teddy bears, baby dolls, monkeys playing cymbals, fire engines, and classic wind-up teeth.

Thank God.

His frustration evaporated, Drake turned back to the cashier. “So are you gonna bag my stuff or not?”

“Are you crazy?” the cashier shrieked, dropping down behind the counter.

Drake rolled his eyes and glanced around for a discreet location. One corner was hidden by a large display for the newest game release, so he ran over towards it, kicking away a toy soldier that tried to shoot its musket at him. Hiding behind the display, and seeing dust bunnies that would rival those in Gosalyn’s room — seriously, how often did they clean this place? — Drake pulled out his emergency suit.

And changed into his alter ego.

Tossing out a gas canister, he waited for the blue smoke to begin wafting into the air before saying, “I am the Terror that Flaps in the Night! I am the super savers shoppers rewards card that you’re forced into buying! I am Darkwiiiing Duck!” He leaped out of the smoke and sent a glare at Quackerjack.

The toy maker pouted. “No fair! Playtime was just getting started.”

“Pack up your toys, Quackerjack,” Darkwing said, walking toward the villain and pulling out his gas gun. “Your play date’s cancelled.”

Quackerjack glowered but that was the last thing Darkwing saw him do because the next moment, all the lights in the store went out, plunging everything into darkness.

Either that was the most convenient blackout ever, or Quackerjack wasn’t working alone.

A spark of electricity flashed near the back of the store and another voice declared, “My poor children! Don’t you worry, your uncle Megavolt will free you from this awful place of imprisonment.”

The caped crusader whipped out his night vision goggles — he never left home without them — and was able to easily keep track of Megavolt and Quackerjack despite the darkness.

Darkwing loved Christmas. All the criminals went on huge crime sprees, eager to cash in on the added merchandise and extra money surfacing as people blew budges on expensive gifts and the newest developments in technology.

The rest of the store was in pandemonium, everyone running for the exits, some customers with their un-purchased items still clutched in their arms. But they were for the police to track down.

He had bigger villains to fry.

Or short circuit.

Grabbing one of Quackerjack’s fire engines, Darkwing ran to the back of the store where Megavolt was unplugging all the TVs he could get his hands on. Darkwing unwound the small hose and located the button near the back of the toy.

“Not so fast, Megavolt,” Darkwing said, pressing the button. A deluge of water poured out of the hose — more than should ever be in a children’s toy; what had Quackerjack been thinking? — and hit Megavolt in his battery pack. The villain shorted out with a yelp, collapsing onto the floor.

He shook his head and glared into the darkness. “You brought the fire engines?” he cried.

“They’re a classic!” Quackerjack shot back.

Pulling out a few zip ties from his suit, Darkwing bound Megavolt with little fuss and turned to locate Quackerjack.

The clown was cackling, shining a flashlight on his teddy bears and dolls as they removed the games and consoles from the shelves and handed them to the monkeys who crushed everything with their cymbals. Ever since Wiffle Boy had become popular in St. Canard all those years ago, Quackerjack had sworn a vendetta against all electronic entertainment. It was a futile battle, but Quackerjack’s single-minded obsession kept Darkwing busy, so he couldn’t complain.

Quackerjack always walked around with his pockets stuffed with toys and today was no exception. A jumprope was half-dangling out of one pocket and Darkwing lunged to grab it, pulling it free.

The toy maker must’ve felt it being removed because he whirled around, the flashlight beam searching for the perpetrator in the darkness. Darkwing dodged the light as best he could while Quackerjack called, “Toy soldiers, attack!”

But toys were as blind in the dark as anyone. They managed to run into one another and fire their weapons their shots hitting the store’s the merchandise and some of the other toys, effectively incapacitating them.

Darkwing grinned and tied Quackerjack up in the jumprope. He’d taken a few classes on lasso wrangling and had an official certificate boasting his accomplishments. Quackerjack wasn’t going anywhere until the police arrived.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Darkwing said, brushing his hands down the front of his suit. “Can’t get the drop on Darkwing Duck that easily.”

“How did you even now we were here?” Megavolt asked, his voice somewhat muffled from his position in the back of the store.

“Ha! Like there is any crime that happens that I don’t know about,” Darkwing said.

“I bet he was here buying Christmas presents,” Quckerjack sneered. “You need to keep your mind active as you get older, Darkwing. Video games’ll just bring on dementia faster.”

“I’ll take the chance,” Darkwing spun on his heel, heading for the door.

Removing his night vision goggles, Darkwing stepped out of the dark store and into the winter sunlight.

And there, in the parking lot, sat Negaduck on his motorcycle. Sitting forward, his hands crossed one over the other on the handlebars, his beak resting atop his wrists as he surveyed the citizens fleeing the store with a pleased look on his face.

The two mallards were equally surprised too see the other, staring at their double as people around them sprinted away, screaming and shouting.

Negaduck was the first to react, loosing a curse before he kicked his engine to life and sped away.

Darkwing leaped into action, following Negaduck and grabbing his gas gun. Stopping on the sidewalk, he aimed at the retreating motorcycle and fired. The canister sailed through the air and hit the back of Negaduck’s tire, exploding in a cloud of Darkwing’s trademarked blue smoke.

The impact of the canister alone was enough to make the motorcycle wobble dangerously, but the thick cloud of smoke added to the attack, effectively blocking Negaduck’s vision.

The bike swerved and toppled, the yellow blob that was Darkwing’s archiest of arch nemeses rolling off onto the sidewalk.

Leaping up, Negaduck glanced back at Darkwing before he raced headlong into the park.

Darkwing took off down the street.

It really was the most wonderful time of the year.

#drake mallard #darkwing duck #megavolt #quackerjack #negaduck #31 days of christmas #a very merry geronimo christmas #writing #fanfiction

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