literature

To Tame A Spark 07

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The young assistant drummed her trimmed nails across the stainless steal counter top. She hated waiting, especially waiting for things she technically shouldn’t be doing.


“C’mon,” Megan whined at the Lab computer, “Can’t you process any faster?!” It whirred in response. “Dumb smart, thing,” she growled, shedding her lab coat and draping it across the back of a chair.


Dr. dos Santos had been right about ordering up a blood sample. There had been so many medications in Megavolt’s system, some of which shouldn’t be mixed. It was no wonder he went berserk on Dr. McCain and Quinton or anyone. What concerned her even more were the unidentifiable compounds.


SHUSH computers were networked together and if one didn’t have the answer it automatically searched the others, foreign and native. They also had every man made drug know in existence listed in their databases, in every language. If SHUSH’s souped up babies didn’t know what it was, it was either A.) a fluke in the reading, or B.) a newly designed and developed med, probably untested with tons of lovely unpredictable side effects. And the diabolical beauty of it all was that said side effects could take place in a matter of seconds, days, weeks, even years, or not at all. It depended on luck or lack thereof, but one never really knew. Circumstances usually pointed to case B.


Now that was just the blood sample’s results, of which she had a hard copy tucked away in an envelope ready to take straight to Dr.dos Santos and another copy sitting in the doctor’s inbox. Megan couldn’t wait to see the whole other can of worms she and Maria had opened when the computer finished running the diagnostic on the urinary sample. Though what the Brazilian doctor planned on doing with the results was beyond her, while they now knew that Megavolt’s meds had been tampered with, there was no way to know by whom. And even if there was speculation, and Megan could guess Maria was quite the speculator, there was no way to prove it. If anything, Dr. dos Santos was the last one to have administered any medication to Megavolt. She’d be a prime suspect. But then again…Dr. McCain had been the last to actually see him, unscheduled and unsupervised… Lots of broken protocol there, Agent Grizzlekoff would be ecstatic for weeks.


“Only on the job one day, and she’s stirring up the hornet’s nest,” Megan muttered running a hand through her short locks. “How nice to know I’m not the only one.” She glanced over at the self-proclaimed super computer, the blasted thing was still “thinking.” Her head hit the desk. The universe was against her and she would never sleep again; she was sure of it. Despite what most people thought, working for SHUSH, unless you were an Agent, was downright pure unadulterated boredom.  Just then, when all hope was lost, the beautiful sound of the printer caught her ear.


“Yes!” she shouted to the empty room, “Mama’s got a date with a hot shower tonight!”


“I’m afraid that hot shower is going to have to wait, Ms. Quackman.”


She whirled around to see Lance McCain studying the sheets spitting from the printer. He looked up and smiled his dashing smile or it least it would have been dashing if half his face wasn’t swollen and his eye black.


“Dr. McCain, what are you doing out of sick bay?”


“I could ask you the same question, isn’t that where you’re supposed to be?” He checked his watch, “I believe you told Quinton you still had an hour, half of which has already past might I add.”


Megan crossed her arms not liking the condescending tone he was using, “I also told Quinton that I was a glorified gopher, my duties change with my superior’s fancy.”


“And that includes running urinary diagnostics?”


“Among other things.”


“And just who is your superior, Ms. Quackman?”


“Not you.” Eat that pansy!


“Well, then I’d certainly like to hear your explanation to the director as to why you have a urinary sample on my patient, a urinary sample that I didn’t ask for, using equipment you’re not authorized to touch unless with a more experienced SHUSH member present.”


Crud.


He drew out a syringe. “Ms. Quackman, I don’t suppose a sizable amount of money could erase this information from your pretty head?”  He was gesturing towards the information resting on the printer.


She took a step back, was he threatening her? That just screamed all kinds of guilty; she didn’t like that needle he was waving all over the place either.  He advanced. “I’ll take your stunning silence as a ‘no’. I guess turning you into a raving lunatic is the only option left, that or killing you.”


She gasped.


“Fortunately for you, I don’t like getting my hands dirty.”


Megan froze. This wasn’t happening! She wasn’t an agent! She was a gopher! She didn’t get trained to handle this! Hell, she didn’t get paid to handle this! Just before he took a hold of her wrist the doors opened again and in stepped Quinton with two other guards. Relief crashed over her like a tidal wave as she side stepped McCain and dashed for the guards.


“He’s nuts!” she cried, skidding past in her haste. “He’s been messin’ with the rehabilitation project and now he just threatened to kill me!”


Quinton quirked an eyebrow towards the doctor and made a hand gesture towards one of the two behind him. Megan yelped in surprise as the brute restrained her.


“Can you prove it?” The canine asked looking over his shoulder.


“N-no,” she stammered to Quinton, not sure what to think anymore.


“Good, that makes things easier.”


The moment she saw the gun, she brought her heel up into the guard’s groin in a neat scoop kick and bolted for the nearest exit. She heard shots ring out behind her and she clutched at her side. Adrenaline was a wonderful, wonderful thing; it kept her running where ever her feet would carry her.


Quinton swore. He missed, twice. Steelbeak would have his head for this one. He looked down at McCain bound and gagged.  “I gotta report in.” He told his comrades, “Go after her and shut her up. Then get the hell out. After hearin’ those fired rounds they’ve probably already started changin’ the securtity codes.”


They saluted and took off, one still a little shaky on his feet.


The canine knelt down and pinched his captive’s cheek. “And you, you miserable sack of mucus. I’m gonna take real good care of you.  But first, we’re gonna make a little stop and visit a mutual friend on the way out. Now, doesn’t that sound like fun?” McCain only paled as realization hit and began to struggle.



Darkwing wandered around J. Gander’s office with his eyes, picking out all of the delicious hiding places that were littered about. His curiosity was burning to know what his old companion had concealed from everyday eyes. And away his imagination flew while J. Gander busied himself studying the vigilante. Eventually it began to irk the crime fighter and he returned the stare as politely as was impolitely possible.


The director chuckled, “Forgive me Darkwing, my mind has been elsewhere as of late.” He stood much slower than he used to from his chair. “You’re probably wondering why I’ve called you here.”


Dark leaned against the wall grinning, “I have to admit, you have me stumped. Usually I can guess.”


“Or you already know more than we do.”


The darkly clothed duck let out a bark of laughter, “You said it, not me.”


“Yes, I did, didn’t I?” J. Gander winced and sat once more. “I’m not as young as I once was, Darkwing.”


The hero didn’t like where this conversation was potentially heading, “You look healthy to me, John.”


“Oh yes, I’m quite healthy, but I’m old, almost elderly.” He chuckled gently, “I’ve already turned in my papers for retirement. And you know what they said?  They said I was long overdue.”


The masked mallard was floored, so much so he took a seat.  Shock didn’t begin to describe how he felt, in fact it wasn’t shock; it was anger.  Anger at not noticing it sooner, the slow movements, the pained expressions, the weariness in the old gander’s eyes… Anger at himself for being selfish for wanting and expecting Hooter to be immortal and not following through.  Darkwing had never once imagined SHUSH without the director. He didn’t want to imagine SHUSH without him and with Grizzlekoff in his place. For a moment, he was caught up in childish disappointment and before he could censor his speech he’d already spoken, “So, that’s it? You’re just giving up and walking away?”


Gander’s face was open and kind, even understanding, “I prefer bowing out gracefully. But if that’s how you see it, then, yes, I’m walking away. Judge me if you will, it’s been a long hard road and I’m tired. And I think I’m warranted some rest. It’s time for someone else to carry on the fight.” Darkwing said nothing so he began to lead up to his invitation. “The truth is, SHUSH needs someone young, someone fresh, someone that has field experience, someone I trust.”


“What are you getting at, J. Gander?”


“What I’m ‘getting at,’ Drake, is that I’d like to offer you the Director’s Chair.”


Silence heavy and imposing filled the office. Darkwing leaned back in the chair leveling his gaze at the director while his mind went into overdrive. When had SHUSH found him out? And did Gander seriously think throwing him the director’s chair was going to be that simple? Forget that, did the man honestly think he’d take the job? Paper pushing, answering phones, dealing with arrogant vigilantes, he knew someone would take his place on the streets eventually, dealing with people in general…scientists… He’d go mad.


The phone spared him a response.


“Think about it,” Hooter said before answering, “J.Gander.” Darkwing watched the wizened eyes widen. “WHAT!?”


Darkwing jumped at the volume alone. Never had he ever heard the older bird raise his voice above that of a conversational tone. Something beyond normal was wrong.


“Code yellow, I want every available Agent at the ready. Find Maria. Just do it! And shut off the power!” He paused listening, “What was she doing there? How bad? Get her to an outside facility then!” The second the receiver slammed down the lights went out. “Darkwing, I believe we need your assistance. FOWL has penetrated our security, one of our doctor’s that has been working on a classified project is missing, a lab assistant has been shot, and I believe an old acquaintance of yours has been released from his cell.”


He sighed in relief to once again be in his element. Earlier conversation pushed to the back of his mind he answered nonchalantly, “Oh? Which old acquaintance? There are quite a few that have cells.”


The silence was unnerving until Hooter finally answered sighing, “Megavolt.”
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