Story: Duckpocalypse Now: (Supernatural/Darkwing Duck): (1/10)
Title: Duckpocalypse Now
Author:
patriciatepes
Artist:
twisted_slinky
Fandom: Supernatural/Darkwing Duck
Chapter: Prev | Next
Rating/Contents: PG-13
Characters: Dean, Sam, Castiel, Darkwing, Gosalyn, Launchpad, Morgana, with a special guest star later!
Warnings: Um… cartoonish violence, spoilers for previous Buffy/Darkwing xover, The Building Blocks of Good and Evil, light swearing
Summary: Set after The Building Blocks of Good and Evil (an interlude story). SPN S6. While on an ordinary hunt, Sam and Dean find themselves pulled into an unusual circumstance. They arrive in St. Canard and meet Darkwing and co. just in time for the main event: another attempt at an apocalypse.
Disclaimer: I don't own Darkwing Duck, Supernatural, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, or any related characters. DW belongs to Disney, SPN belongs to Kripke, and Buffy belongs to Whedon. For fun only.
Author's Notes: *laughs evilly* I am the chosen one! I, alone, have the power to take this plot seriously! *laughs evilly a bit more* Okay, but seriously, this is set in the same universe as The Building Blocks of Good and Evil, and it's set in between that story and its yet-to-be-written sequel, Devil You Don't Know. Although this is technically a three-way crossover between Darkwing Duck, Supernatural, and Buffy the Vampire Slayer, it is mostly between Darkwing Duck and Supernatural. Anything you don't know about what happened in Building Blocks will be revealed here. You won't need to read the other story, and you won't really need to know too much about the Buffy universe. I'll reveal everything you need to know. (So it's spoilry for that other story, if you're interested in it.) That being said, enjoy!
Chapter One: Now: In Which We Join the Present
"This way!" Dean yelled, Sam following close behind.
It was a typical hunt in the middle of a very not typical time. Yellow Eyes was long dead, Lucifer had risen and fallen, and now their biggest worry was not Hell, but Purgatory… which, apparently, was Monsterland. But none of that was what was on the brothers' minds at the moment. No, now they were ankle-deep in a chase concerning a very pissed off shapeshifter. Like other monsters seemed to be lately, it was rather hell-bent on breeding, and this one had a thing for college-aged girls that were, frankly, way out of his league.
They had had the monster cornered, ready for the kill, when the bastard had managed to give them the slip. Of course, this "slip" had consisted of nearly knocking Dean unconscious and just as nearly breaking Sam's arm… but yeah, he had slipped away. However, they had picked up his trail, which had led them here.
It was a large warehouse, which looked fairly abandoned. It towered above the boys as they rushed toward the metal, nearly floor-to-ceiling sliding doors that served as its entrance. The only visible windows of the place seemed to line up right under the overhang of the roof, which meant that as soon as Sam and Dean were inside, they pulled out their flashlights, holding it level beside the handguns they were armed with.
The moon trickled down through the window just enough to cast the shadows long, and Dean's eyes strained as he tried to find any sign of their monster. He turned to Sam, ready to see if he had seen something he had missed, but thankfully, their monster was something of a klutz. A loud crash sounded in the distance, and Dean rolled his eyes. Sam nodded in the direction of the noise, and the older Winchester had to fight hard against doing it again. Instead, he shook the barrel of the gun to signal for Sam to take the lead. Dean sighed as he fell into step behind.
A lot had happened over the past several years. A lot of people they had loved had died, Dean had gone to Hell and Heaven, Sam had gone to Heaven and Hell and had even lost his soul and gotten it back… but some things were just the same. And this, the hunt for a monster, felt like the most normal thing in the world. This was something the Winchesters could do. This was something they could handle. Guns filled with silver bullets in their hands, heading fearlessly into the recesses of a darkened, unknown place felt the same to Dean as Monday night football might seem to anyone else. It was strange, but there was some happiness here, in this strange normalcy of theirs.
Sam suddenly stopped, and Dean, lost to his own musing, almost ran into him. Not the smartest thing Dean could be doing in the middle of a shifter hunt, but he regained his composure before Sam could notice. Sam turned and pointed to a small, metal door a handful of feet in front of them. It stood slightly ajar, and a beam of yellowed light shone from beyond it. Dean nodded, and the boys spread out, with Sam taking the right of the door and Dean taking the left. Flashlights were lowered as they paused on either side, slightly doing a three-count before they both turned and burst into the new room.
The shifter-busy looking like the blond, middle-aged professor he had killed in order to get closer to his victims-whirled, snarling at them. Dean squeezed the trigger of his gun, but the shifter ducked him, rushing and shoving both his hands into Dean's chest. With an "oomph," Dean flew against the concrete wall behind him, sliding down to the dirty floor. Sam managed a few rounds, missing as new holes appeared in the wall behind the shifter. Dean lost no time getting back to his feet as Sam was now flying across the room to join his brother.
"Son of a bitch," Dean swore as the shifter knocked his gun from his hands.
The shifter threw a punch, and Dean ducked it, landing a hard right-hook into his jaw. He reeled back, and Sam was back at his brother's side. Dean shook his head.
"Look, dude, respect for the college chicks… but no still means no," he quipped.
The shifter smiled. "Go to Hell."
Dean shrugged. "Been there, done that, deliberately didn't get the t-shirt."
The shifter growled and launched himself at the boys again, but this time, he was a bit more reckless… or Sam's aiming had improved. One shot, right between the eyes, with a silver bullet and the Shifter went down. Dean shook his head.
"And that's that," the older brother noted.
Sam nodded. "Another one for Purgatory."
Dean cracked a grin. "You know, I just can't help but think that every time we gank a monster now."
Sam chuckled. "Yeah, me too. Let's get out of here."
Dean rubbed a hand over his stomach, a slow smile spreading over his face.
"Yeah. I'm starved. You know, that diner we passed on the way into town a couple of days ago has some awesome apple pie. We should go back there. I hear they've got this new, like, quadruple-decker burger."
Sam put his gun away, turning back toward the entrance of the room.
"You know you're on a one-way road toward a heart attack, right?"
Dean shrugged. "Whatever, man. I'm hungry."
Sam mock-bowed to Dean, gesturing to the door. "After you, then."
The elder Winchester took a single step toward the door, his mind filled with nothing but celebratory pie for a hunt well done. But, before he could even near the exit, the door slammed shut, the familiar sounds of a lock clicking into place. In a flash, both had their guns at the ready once more, turning around the small, empty-save for the body of the shifter-room. The single-bulb yellow light above them flickered as a loud, cold, high-pitched laugh filled the air around them. It sent a chill down Dean's spine as he turned to Sam.
"Why do I feel like I know that laugh?"
Before Sam could respond, another low set of chuckles sounded.
"Timing is everything!" the voice said.
And suddenly, things went from weird to worse. Both Winchesters stumbled back, groaning.
"Sammy," Dean moaned, pressing the heel of his hand to his forehead.
But all he got in response was another, harder groan. His gaze rose, trying to search the smallish room for his brother, but things were getting fuzzy around the edges. And black. His vision was going black. He felt his gun slip from his hands, followed shortly by a clatter to the floor. Another clattering noise followed shortly after.
"Sam!" Dean called again moments before the room utterly vanished from sight.
The next few moments, all Dean could do was feel. And, honestly, he really wished that had gone away too. It started with a yank. Like someone had slipped one of those comically large hooks around his midsection and pulled with all their might. He expected the feeling of falling flat on his ass to follow, but instead, he just kept flying through the air. He called out for Sam again and got another groan in response, which, for the moment, was all he needed to hear. Sam was with him, and he still sounded fairly okay.
The flying backwards sensation lasted for a few moments longer before something else took over. They slowed down, passing through something that felt like they were passing through a thick wall of Jell-O gelatin. Dean moaned automatically, imagining himself to be covered in the cherry or lime flavored dessert-because those flavors were his favorites-before the feeling passed. Their speed increased, and for a second, the older Winchester was worried he might hurl. And then, in the next moment, he knew that probability had increased.
He felt sick, in a horribly familiar way. He could tell that his vision had returned, but that it was still dark wherever he and Sam were at. And Sam was still with him, Dean could almost feel him off to his right. A light flashed, like lightning in the blackest clouds imaginable, and Dean felt his body ache. His bones felt old and brittle, and his skin and muscles were tight like they had been forcibly stretched. He knew this feeling and a bit of panic had set in.
"Dean," Sam called, the panic managing to leak out of the younger Winchester's mouth.
Dean was just relieved to hear him speak after so long. So he remained silent, waiting for him to continue.
"Dean, are we…? We can't be! We didn't die! We wouldn't be here even then… would we?" Sam spouted, and the sadness in his voice made Dean's heart join in on his bodily aches.
"It'll be all right," Dean called back lamely.
But he could still feel Sam's alarm. And he couldn't really blame him. After all, Dean had been to Hell before… but not like Sam. No, Sam had been in the Executive Suite of Hell-Lucifer's cage, playing chew toy to two supremely pissed off angels. Of course Sam's panic was a tangible thing. Dean tried to reach for him, to grab his arm, to let him know that they weren't separated again. But try as he might, it felt like his younger brother was just out of his reach.
The darkness was fading, and so was the ache that both Winchesters' were all too familiar with. Flickering light, yellow, orange, and red, began to rise before them. They both blinked, trying to adjust their vision. Sweat was pouring down their brows now, the salty tears hanging on their lips for seconds before falling to the rocky and lava-lined floor. Dean was pretty sure nothing but steam would be left once the sweat drop hit. Fire roared and died all around them, and a mad cackle was sounding somewhere off in the distance. Dean turned, and he could vaguely make out Sam's face-although Sam's body, and even his own, were somehow hidden from him. Confusion was written all over his face, and Dean was sure his look mirrored it. Where were they? But they didn't have long before that weird, gelatin feeling hit them again, and their vision went black once more. Then, with a rough thud, Dean felt the front half of his body collide with something as solid as cement.
The air being knocked out of him, he coughed and pulled himself up to his knees. He wrapped his arms about his stomach, curling in as he still tried to breathe. His eyes were closed, he realized with a jolt, and he flung them open, gazing around for Sam. He didn't have to look very far. Sam was on his knees as well, facing Dean as he tried to get his bearings.
"Where the hell are we?" Sam said, looking around.
Dean didn't reply for a moment, and both boys were silent. In the distance, there was a strange noise, and if Dean strained his ears he was sure it had to be karate yells. He shook his head, instead gazing up at the brick building that loomed over him. He got to his feet as Sam did, and scratched the back of his head. With another shake, he realized that many buildings surrounded them. They were in the middle of a city street… but not a city that either Winchester had ever been to.
"This place looks weird…" Dean muttered. "Like… like it's almost…"
"A cartoon," Sam concluded.
Dean nodded. "Yeah. But still not quite. Blocky, like we were sucked into a cartoon but not fully, you know?"
"Weird."
Sam's gaze was now somewhere over Dean's shoulder, but the elder Winchester ignored his brother. He shook his head, his eyes searching the words written on the glass window pane of the shop beside him-a cute, squat building with a red awning. It announced it as "McDuck Jeweler's Inc." Dean's eyes narrowed. He echoed Sam's sentiment of "Weird."
The karate yells were still going on in the distance, but they sounded as if they were getting closer. Now, they could hear at least two other voices, maybe more, accompanying the yells. But Dean didn't turn, his gaze seemingly frozen on the store front.
"Yeah, you know, this is always how I imagined Who Framed Roger Rabbit? to look to the humans that were in the movie. This place is like a cartoon that a human could live in, I think. What do you think happened to us, Sammy? Do you think something hexed us? Or maybe we got bitten by something, like poisoned. Like the djinn. Do you think it's a djinn?"
"I don't think so, Dean," Sam muttered.
Dean gazed over at his brother. "Why do you say that?"
"Uh, because djinn still give you some semblance of reality to screw with your head."
Brow arched, Dean shrugged. "Maybe it's a newbie."
"Dean, look," Sam said, pointing past his brother.
Turning, Dean froze. He blinked. And then he blinked again, shaking his head. And then he took a moment to think back to the last drink he had had and whether it could have been drugged. When none of these things seemed to ease his mind, he forced himself to face the facts. There were ducks, fighting a robot that looked like the cartoon version of Satan-red, horns, tail, the works-with what looked like a rat in a yellow suit cackling madly.
Only, they were all walking upright, and where wings should be, feathered hands were instead. Two of the ducks stood off to the left, one taller than the rest of those before him and dressed in a brown pilot's suit with a tuff of red hair peeking out from underneath an aviator's cap. A red-haired girl-duck-shortest of the group-wearing a long purple jersey with a white number one on it and a pair of red sneakers on her presumably webbed feet was being held fast by the pilot duck while she cheered, "Go, Darkwing!"
Meanwhile, the duck she cheered-Darkwing, apparently-was dressed in a purple suit that extended to just above where his legs began, a wide-brimmed matching fedora hat on his head, cape over his shoulders, and mask on his face. He was the one doing the karate yells, throwing kick after punch at the devil-shaped robot. The rat in the yellow jumpsuit, a large battery strapped to his back and large goggles on his face continued to cackle, his blue-gloved hands actually grasping his belly as he did so.
"You'll never defeat El Diablo Robotico, Darkwing!" he cried manically.
Sam's brow furrowed. "The Robot Devil?"
Dean shook his head. "What the hell is going on?"
Author:
patriciatepes
Artist:
twisted_slinky
Fandom: Supernatural/Darkwing Duck
Chapter: Prev | Next
Rating/Contents: PG-13
Characters: Dean, Sam, Castiel, Darkwing, Gosalyn, Launchpad, Morgana, with a special guest star later!
Warnings: Um… cartoonish violence, spoilers for previous Buffy/Darkwing xover, The Building Blocks of Good and Evil, light swearing
Summary: Set after The Building Blocks of Good and Evil (an interlude story). SPN S6. While on an ordinary hunt, Sam and Dean find themselves pulled into an unusual circumstance. They arrive in St. Canard and meet Darkwing and co. just in time for the main event: another attempt at an apocalypse.
Disclaimer: I don't own Darkwing Duck, Supernatural, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, or any related characters. DW belongs to Disney, SPN belongs to Kripke, and Buffy belongs to Whedon. For fun only.
Author's Notes: *laughs evilly* I am the chosen one! I, alone, have the power to take this plot seriously! *laughs evilly a bit more* Okay, but seriously, this is set in the same universe as The Building Blocks of Good and Evil, and it's set in between that story and its yet-to-be-written sequel, Devil You Don't Know. Although this is technically a three-way crossover between Darkwing Duck, Supernatural, and Buffy the Vampire Slayer, it is mostly between Darkwing Duck and Supernatural. Anything you don't know about what happened in Building Blocks will be revealed here. You won't need to read the other story, and you won't really need to know too much about the Buffy universe. I'll reveal everything you need to know. (So it's spoilry for that other story, if you're interested in it.) That being said, enjoy!
Chapter One: Now: In Which We Join the Present
"This way!" Dean yelled, Sam following close behind.
It was a typical hunt in the middle of a very not typical time. Yellow Eyes was long dead, Lucifer had risen and fallen, and now their biggest worry was not Hell, but Purgatory… which, apparently, was Monsterland. But none of that was what was on the brothers' minds at the moment. No, now they were ankle-deep in a chase concerning a very pissed off shapeshifter. Like other monsters seemed to be lately, it was rather hell-bent on breeding, and this one had a thing for college-aged girls that were, frankly, way out of his league.
They had had the monster cornered, ready for the kill, when the bastard had managed to give them the slip. Of course, this "slip" had consisted of nearly knocking Dean unconscious and just as nearly breaking Sam's arm… but yeah, he had slipped away. However, they had picked up his trail, which had led them here.
It was a large warehouse, which looked fairly abandoned. It towered above the boys as they rushed toward the metal, nearly floor-to-ceiling sliding doors that served as its entrance. The only visible windows of the place seemed to line up right under the overhang of the roof, which meant that as soon as Sam and Dean were inside, they pulled out their flashlights, holding it level beside the handguns they were armed with.
The moon trickled down through the window just enough to cast the shadows long, and Dean's eyes strained as he tried to find any sign of their monster. He turned to Sam, ready to see if he had seen something he had missed, but thankfully, their monster was something of a klutz. A loud crash sounded in the distance, and Dean rolled his eyes. Sam nodded in the direction of the noise, and the older Winchester had to fight hard against doing it again. Instead, he shook the barrel of the gun to signal for Sam to take the lead. Dean sighed as he fell into step behind.
A lot had happened over the past several years. A lot of people they had loved had died, Dean had gone to Hell and Heaven, Sam had gone to Heaven and Hell and had even lost his soul and gotten it back… but some things were just the same. And this, the hunt for a monster, felt like the most normal thing in the world. This was something the Winchesters could do. This was something they could handle. Guns filled with silver bullets in their hands, heading fearlessly into the recesses of a darkened, unknown place felt the same to Dean as Monday night football might seem to anyone else. It was strange, but there was some happiness here, in this strange normalcy of theirs.
Sam suddenly stopped, and Dean, lost to his own musing, almost ran into him. Not the smartest thing Dean could be doing in the middle of a shifter hunt, but he regained his composure before Sam could notice. Sam turned and pointed to a small, metal door a handful of feet in front of them. It stood slightly ajar, and a beam of yellowed light shone from beyond it. Dean nodded, and the boys spread out, with Sam taking the right of the door and Dean taking the left. Flashlights were lowered as they paused on either side, slightly doing a three-count before they both turned and burst into the new room.
The shifter-busy looking like the blond, middle-aged professor he had killed in order to get closer to his victims-whirled, snarling at them. Dean squeezed the trigger of his gun, but the shifter ducked him, rushing and shoving both his hands into Dean's chest. With an "oomph," Dean flew against the concrete wall behind him, sliding down to the dirty floor. Sam managed a few rounds, missing as new holes appeared in the wall behind the shifter. Dean lost no time getting back to his feet as Sam was now flying across the room to join his brother.
"Son of a bitch," Dean swore as the shifter knocked his gun from his hands.
The shifter threw a punch, and Dean ducked it, landing a hard right-hook into his jaw. He reeled back, and Sam was back at his brother's side. Dean shook his head.
"Look, dude, respect for the college chicks… but no still means no," he quipped.
The shifter smiled. "Go to Hell."
Dean shrugged. "Been there, done that, deliberately didn't get the t-shirt."
The shifter growled and launched himself at the boys again, but this time, he was a bit more reckless… or Sam's aiming had improved. One shot, right between the eyes, with a silver bullet and the Shifter went down. Dean shook his head.
"And that's that," the older brother noted.
Sam nodded. "Another one for Purgatory."
Dean cracked a grin. "You know, I just can't help but think that every time we gank a monster now."
Sam chuckled. "Yeah, me too. Let's get out of here."
Dean rubbed a hand over his stomach, a slow smile spreading over his face.
"Yeah. I'm starved. You know, that diner we passed on the way into town a couple of days ago has some awesome apple pie. We should go back there. I hear they've got this new, like, quadruple-decker burger."
Sam put his gun away, turning back toward the entrance of the room.
"You know you're on a one-way road toward a heart attack, right?"
Dean shrugged. "Whatever, man. I'm hungry."
Sam mock-bowed to Dean, gesturing to the door. "After you, then."
The elder Winchester took a single step toward the door, his mind filled with nothing but celebratory pie for a hunt well done. But, before he could even near the exit, the door slammed shut, the familiar sounds of a lock clicking into place. In a flash, both had their guns at the ready once more, turning around the small, empty-save for the body of the shifter-room. The single-bulb yellow light above them flickered as a loud, cold, high-pitched laugh filled the air around them. It sent a chill down Dean's spine as he turned to Sam.
"Why do I feel like I know that laugh?"
Before Sam could respond, another low set of chuckles sounded.
"Timing is everything!" the voice said.
And suddenly, things went from weird to worse. Both Winchesters stumbled back, groaning.
"Sammy," Dean moaned, pressing the heel of his hand to his forehead.
But all he got in response was another, harder groan. His gaze rose, trying to search the smallish room for his brother, but things were getting fuzzy around the edges. And black. His vision was going black. He felt his gun slip from his hands, followed shortly by a clatter to the floor. Another clattering noise followed shortly after.
"Sam!" Dean called again moments before the room utterly vanished from sight.
The next few moments, all Dean could do was feel. And, honestly, he really wished that had gone away too. It started with a yank. Like someone had slipped one of those comically large hooks around his midsection and pulled with all their might. He expected the feeling of falling flat on his ass to follow, but instead, he just kept flying through the air. He called out for Sam again and got another groan in response, which, for the moment, was all he needed to hear. Sam was with him, and he still sounded fairly okay.
The flying backwards sensation lasted for a few moments longer before something else took over. They slowed down, passing through something that felt like they were passing through a thick wall of Jell-O gelatin. Dean moaned automatically, imagining himself to be covered in the cherry or lime flavored dessert-because those flavors were his favorites-before the feeling passed. Their speed increased, and for a second, the older Winchester was worried he might hurl. And then, in the next moment, he knew that probability had increased.
He felt sick, in a horribly familiar way. He could tell that his vision had returned, but that it was still dark wherever he and Sam were at. And Sam was still with him, Dean could almost feel him off to his right. A light flashed, like lightning in the blackest clouds imaginable, and Dean felt his body ache. His bones felt old and brittle, and his skin and muscles were tight like they had been forcibly stretched. He knew this feeling and a bit of panic had set in.
"Dean," Sam called, the panic managing to leak out of the younger Winchester's mouth.
Dean was just relieved to hear him speak after so long. So he remained silent, waiting for him to continue.
"Dean, are we…? We can't be! We didn't die! We wouldn't be here even then… would we?" Sam spouted, and the sadness in his voice made Dean's heart join in on his bodily aches.
"It'll be all right," Dean called back lamely.
But he could still feel Sam's alarm. And he couldn't really blame him. After all, Dean had been to Hell before… but not like Sam. No, Sam had been in the Executive Suite of Hell-Lucifer's cage, playing chew toy to two supremely pissed off angels. Of course Sam's panic was a tangible thing. Dean tried to reach for him, to grab his arm, to let him know that they weren't separated again. But try as he might, it felt like his younger brother was just out of his reach.
The darkness was fading, and so was the ache that both Winchesters' were all too familiar with. Flickering light, yellow, orange, and red, began to rise before them. They both blinked, trying to adjust their vision. Sweat was pouring down their brows now, the salty tears hanging on their lips for seconds before falling to the rocky and lava-lined floor. Dean was pretty sure nothing but steam would be left once the sweat drop hit. Fire roared and died all around them, and a mad cackle was sounding somewhere off in the distance. Dean turned, and he could vaguely make out Sam's face-although Sam's body, and even his own, were somehow hidden from him. Confusion was written all over his face, and Dean was sure his look mirrored it. Where were they? But they didn't have long before that weird, gelatin feeling hit them again, and their vision went black once more. Then, with a rough thud, Dean felt the front half of his body collide with something as solid as cement.
The air being knocked out of him, he coughed and pulled himself up to his knees. He wrapped his arms about his stomach, curling in as he still tried to breathe. His eyes were closed, he realized with a jolt, and he flung them open, gazing around for Sam. He didn't have to look very far. Sam was on his knees as well, facing Dean as he tried to get his bearings.
"Where the hell are we?" Sam said, looking around.
Dean didn't reply for a moment, and both boys were silent. In the distance, there was a strange noise, and if Dean strained his ears he was sure it had to be karate yells. He shook his head, instead gazing up at the brick building that loomed over him. He got to his feet as Sam did, and scratched the back of his head. With another shake, he realized that many buildings surrounded them. They were in the middle of a city street… but not a city that either Winchester had ever been to.
"This place looks weird…" Dean muttered. "Like… like it's almost…"
"A cartoon," Sam concluded.
Dean nodded. "Yeah. But still not quite. Blocky, like we were sucked into a cartoon but not fully, you know?"
"Weird."
Sam's gaze was now somewhere over Dean's shoulder, but the elder Winchester ignored his brother. He shook his head, his eyes searching the words written on the glass window pane of the shop beside him-a cute, squat building with a red awning. It announced it as "McDuck Jeweler's Inc." Dean's eyes narrowed. He echoed Sam's sentiment of "Weird."
The karate yells were still going on in the distance, but they sounded as if they were getting closer. Now, they could hear at least two other voices, maybe more, accompanying the yells. But Dean didn't turn, his gaze seemingly frozen on the store front.
"Yeah, you know, this is always how I imagined Who Framed Roger Rabbit? to look to the humans that were in the movie. This place is like a cartoon that a human could live in, I think. What do you think happened to us, Sammy? Do you think something hexed us? Or maybe we got bitten by something, like poisoned. Like the djinn. Do you think it's a djinn?"
"I don't think so, Dean," Sam muttered.
Dean gazed over at his brother. "Why do you say that?"
"Uh, because djinn still give you some semblance of reality to screw with your head."
Brow arched, Dean shrugged. "Maybe it's a newbie."
"Dean, look," Sam said, pointing past his brother.
Turning, Dean froze. He blinked. And then he blinked again, shaking his head. And then he took a moment to think back to the last drink he had had and whether it could have been drugged. When none of these things seemed to ease his mind, he forced himself to face the facts. There were ducks, fighting a robot that looked like the cartoon version of Satan-red, horns, tail, the works-with what looked like a rat in a yellow suit cackling madly.
Only, they were all walking upright, and where wings should be, feathered hands were instead. Two of the ducks stood off to the left, one taller than the rest of those before him and dressed in a brown pilot's suit with a tuff of red hair peeking out from underneath an aviator's cap. A red-haired girl-duck-shortest of the group-wearing a long purple jersey with a white number one on it and a pair of red sneakers on her presumably webbed feet was being held fast by the pilot duck while she cheered, "Go, Darkwing!"
Meanwhile, the duck she cheered-Darkwing, apparently-was dressed in a purple suit that extended to just above where his legs began, a wide-brimmed matching fedora hat on his head, cape over his shoulders, and mask on his face. He was the one doing the karate yells, throwing kick after punch at the devil-shaped robot. The rat in the yellow jumpsuit, a large battery strapped to his back and large goggles on his face continued to cackle, his blue-gloved hands actually grasping his belly as he did so.
"You'll never defeat El Diablo Robotico, Darkwing!" he cried manically.
Sam's brow furrowed. "The Robot Devil?"
Dean shook his head. "What the hell is going on?"