Crossfire

 So, it's Monday and I actually have something to share! Haha, I thought for sure it would be hell trying to keep up with this thing.

Anyway, my latest fanfiction for DWD is focusing on Launchpad. Specifically, LP and my OC, Marty. Of course, this means that the story I should be working on (which is a prelude to the events in my fan-comic i.e. SHUSH, Army of Duckness and Waking Up in Vegas) is kinda on hold. The story is a little somber and I'm just having a hard time getting into the mood to write it. It explains a lot, though because the comic starts off with Gosalyn NOT wanting to be a crimefighter and scrambling to find a job that would help her support the family should anything happen to DW. While it seems out of character (I admit it, it does!) in that first story, Gos is affected by the events.

Getting back to the other story. For now, it's called Crossfire. Basically, this occurs between the comic and the prequel fanfiction. The DIA needs Launchpad to go undercover again and this time they've called in help from their sister agency, SHUSH in the form of agent and pilot, Martina McNair (aka Marty McFly). Cue flashback scenes of a blossoming romance and the events that brought it to an end. So, due to how things ended between them after high school, when Marty left Duckburg to join the Air Force and LP stayed behind to work for Scrooge McDuck, they aren't exactly pleased to see each other, let alone work together.

Originally, I thought this was going to be my Bonnie and Clyde story, introducing both NegaLP and NegaMarty into my AU as well. But I'm saving that one for a bit later ;) I can say that in Crossfire,  Feathers Galore and FOWL will be present.

I'm still working on Drake's Guide to Surviving the Multiverse. I've been editing and tweaking and re-mapping that monster since NaNo ended. The first chapter is nearly fixed as well as the second. It's just been hard since originally, that story was something I was writing for a friend...and well, having to go back and rework certain things and inside jokes has been tough. But it's getting done!

And now for a brief preview of Crossfire:

Moonlight bathed landscape, lush green blades of grass and long stemmed wildflowers dancing in a cool, spring breeze. The sweet scent of newly bloomed blossoms laced the wind and teased his nose. In the distance, he could hear the almost melodic chirping of crickets, the music of a babbling brook just beyond a quaint wooden fence and a thin tree line that separated the farm from a forest. Above him, starlight dappled a clear, almost black velvet sky, twinkling and shimmering. He should have felt at peace then.

Instead he cringed as another white blossom was crushed beneath his foot, a flurry of petals and leaves and dirt and grass flying up in his wake. The only thing he was feeling was an unsettling wave of nausea and panic. 

“Run. Just keep running!”

Hazarding a glance over his shoulder, Launchpad felt his brow furrow as his eyes narrowed on the young woman running just beside and behind him. In this light, her blue eyes glowed, a mix of amusement and adrenaline dancing in those orbs; the soft light highlighted her wheat colored hair with browns and gold; and her white cotton dress, a flattering a-line that she saved for special occasions and church, made her look almost angelic. Almost because he doubted angels would be seen with grass stains and specks of mud on any of their clothing or with a tangled mess of wild curls sitting upon their head no matter what the situation.

He finally found his voice when the angry bellow of a bull echoed behind them. Much to his dismay, the bastard was gaining on them. “How do I let you talk me into these things?” he huffed. His legs started to ache, a twinge of pain travelling through his calves and thighs; the field was a hell of a lot bigger than he had initially thought. With a sharp intake of breath, Launchpad shook his head, clearing his mind of a stray thought. Right now was not the time to be wondering if his football coach would be disappointed to find out his first string running back was winded after a brisk jog. Never mind that he had scarfed down two cheeseburgers, a large fries and a chocolate milkshake only a half hour before Little Miss One-of-The-Guys dragged him out here and hadn’t planned on doing any running. He hadn’t planned on doing any physical activity after…

Okay, well, no. That was a lie or he wouldn’t have bothered tucking a box of Tic-Tacs into his jacket pocket before picking up Marty.

A breathless laugh brought him back to the moment at hand. “You can be pissed off at me after we hop the fence, babe.”

“Martina, I swear—oof!”

It was the most insignificant movement. The toe of his boot just scraped the top of the dirt wrong, digging just a centimeter too deep that it was caught on some invisible root. Something in his ankle popped and snapped and he went down. A strangled yelp of pain fought the thick knot lodged in his throat as he dug his fingers into the moist dirt.

Martina slid to a stop, wheeling about with her arms outstretched in a failed attempt to catch him. “Launchpad, are you alright?”

“What are you doing? Keep running,” he grunted, struggling to keep his voice level. He pushed himself up and tears threatened to leak from the corners of his eyes. “I’m fine.”

She opened her mouth to protest when another bellow sounded and this time, he could feel the ground trembling beneath him. He managed a quick glance over his shoulder before the angry beast roared again. The bull had lowered its head, twin horns racing toward him as he struggled to his feet. Balanced precariously on his good foot, he shoved Martina to the side and out of harm’s way. Then, he braced himself to take a hit that never came.

Instead, he found himself stumbling sideways and just barely out of the bull’s path as it barreled onward. His back hit something solid and stiff and before he could register that it was the fence, he scrambled over it. He blinked, turning his attention away from the animal and to Martina, who stood off to the side, her arms wrapped around her torso as she stared down at the ground. The panic and nausea that had been tearing him apart was replaced with a sudden rush of guilt.

A thin sheen of tears covered her eyes, the tan feathers on around her eyes and on her cheeks damp. She trembled, taking in a shuddery breath as he hobbled forward to place a hand on her shoulder. Something in her eyes flashed, a dam of some sort broke within her, but not one of tears. Not tears of sorrow, anyway. Her face contorted into an angry glare and she shoved him away. “Idiot! What the fuck were you thinking? You could have been killed!”

He hopped back, steadying himself on his good foot. “Wait just a minute! You’re mad at me now?”

“Damn straight I am,” she snapped. “Don’t ever ask me to leave you behind again! Not ever!”

Launchpad snorted derisively. “Are you seriously angry because--”

She stomped forward, fisting her hand around his dirtied shirt front and yanked him closer. He found himself hunched over uncomfortably, the end of his bill brushing against hers as she glared at him. Swallowing thickly, he ignored the heat rising to his face and was silently thanking the powers that be that he had feathers to cover up the red that was spreading across his face. How much would she hate him if he faltered just the tiniest bit, slipped forward and inadvertently kissed her? Something in her eyes flashed and the idea was dashed. He knew better than to try anything when she was this upset. “Promise me.”

“I promise…” he mumbled. He felt her grip loosen on his shirtfront. He straightened, placing some weight on his throbbing ankle. It was swollen and aching, but thankfully not broken.

He lifted his eyes.

* * * * * *

“Launchpad!”

Launchpad blinked rapidly, squinting as the bright midday sun suddenly filled his vision. A frigid winter wind buffeted his face and hair. Out of habit, he swiped at the end of his bill with a gloved hand. “…Whoa. Now, that was weird,” he muttered as he massaged his temple.

“LP, are you just going to stand there or are we going to show these kids how it’s done?” He turned to see Drake and Morgana approaching, a beat up football tucked under the shorter mallard’s arm.

The pilot tilted his head slightly, confusion etched on his face. “Huh?”

Drake tossed the football at him, clapping his hands together. LP fumbled with the ball for a moment before getting a better grip on it and automatically tucking it close to his chest. “It’s just a little three on three, LP. Adults versus kids,” he explained with a grin. “And we can’t lose this time. Honker and that weird girl with the camera are already at each other’s throats and it’s not even kick off yet.”

Launchpad lifted his eyes, looking across the yard to where Gosalyn was playing referee between Honker and Sophie again. He blinked, sepia toned memories surging forward. It seemed as if most of the games he, Loopy and Marty would play started off with an argument and his poor little sister trapped in the middle. Martina knew how to push his buttons when he didn’t even realize he had buttons to be pushed.

Morgana rolled her eyes. “Dark, I worry about you sometimes.”

Drake frowned, opening his mouth to reply when Launchpad spoke up. “I think I’m gonna sit this one out,” he muttered solemnly, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets. “My ankle’s acting up on me again.”

Well, that's it for now. Hopefully, I can get a few chapters done and up on dA and FF.net soon :)