Darkwing Duck The Movie Part 2

EXT. AIRFIELD - NIGHT

Luckily for Darkwing, he isn't that high up when the line is severed. The roof of a ramshackle airplane hangar breaks his fall, and as this occurs we get an establishing shot of the less-than upkept airfield, whose sign says 'LAUNCHPAD MCQUACK'S CHARTER SERVICE.' A small house is nearby, obviously the owner's, and a light in one of the windows flicks on in response to the noise of Darkwing's landing.

INT. AIRPLANE HANGAR

Inside the hangar, we see that Darkwing has crashed through the roof and landed atop an old biplane, which further broke his fall and likely saved his life. Wearily, he gets to his feet, sans fedora, and climbs down from atop the plane. Or at least, he tries to. Instead, the force of the fall has left him rather dizzy and so instead, he just kind of falls off the plane and lands face-first on the floor.

After a moment or two, he gets up, shaking his head. He looks around himself at all the airplanes, many of them only half-built (or perhaps half torn apart would be a more apt description, as it looks like the owner is dismantling them).

DARKWING:
Ugh, man that hurt. Ah, but bruised and battered, Darkwing Duck is never defeated! Clever of me to use the roof… and the airplane… and the floor to break my fall. Luckily, my superb conditioning enables me to snap right back from the experience! At least, as soon as the pain wears off.

LAUNCHPAD (O.S.):
Hold it right there!

Darkwing reacts as a flashlight is shined into his eyes. Glancing over and squinting, he sees a tall, red-haired duck in an aviator's cap. None other than LAUNCHPAD MCQUACK. Much to Darkwing's dismay, Launchpad is also armed with a baseball bat. He takes a swing at Darkwing, who ducks.

LAUNCHPAD:
Nobody messes with the airplanes in my hangar, or my name isn't Launchpad McQuack!

DARKWING:
Wait! Stop! You don't understand! I'm not a burglar! I'm--

Launchpad turns the overhead lights on, and his expression of rage at someone breaking into his hangar suddenly turns into an almost childlike delight.

LAUNCHPAD:
Darkwing Duck!

DARKWING:
Yes! Wait a second, y-- you know who I am?

LAUNCHPAD:
Know you? Well I should think so! I-- I'm your biggest fan!

DARKWING:
(Genuinely surprised)
A fan?! Really????!!!!

He coughs, clearing his throat and begins talking in a much deeper voice.

DARKWING:
I mean, uh, of course! I have lots of fans!

Darkwing looks around for his fedora, and spots it laying on the ground a couple of feet away. He gets it, dusts it off, and returns it to his head.

LAUNCHPAD:
Wow, this is amazing! Sorry about tryin' to whack you and everything, but I really did think you were a burglar. So, uh, what are you doin' here? In my hangar? At 3:00 in the morning?

DARKWING:
Just another stopover in my never-ending battle against the forces of evil, my friend. Speaking of which, I really should be getting back on their trail. Hey, wait! You're a pilot! We can use one of these planes to catch those crooks!

LAUNCHPAD:
Oh man, I got somethin' a lot better than these old planes.

But Darkwing is already clambering into the passenger's seat of the most intact biplane.

DARKWING:
No time! We have evildoers to thwart!

LAUNCHPAD:
Yeah, I know, but in the next hangar over I got--

DARKWING:
No, fan! Look, I'll give you my autograph if you just get in 'n' fly the plane.

Launchpad is in the cockpit in a flash.

LAUNCHPAD:
I'm here for ya, DW! Uh, do you mind if I call you DW?

DARKWING:
Actually--

Before he can finish, Launchpad takes off-- Backwards!

EXT. AIRFIELD - NIGHT

The biplane exits the hangar, crashing through the 'LAUNCHPAD MCQUACK'S CHARTER SERVICE' sign, and zooms off into the night sky, facing in completely the wrong direction.

DARKWING:
Now, I don't claim to be an expert at flying planes, Mr. McQuack, but wouldn't it be a lot easier if the plane were facing the other way?

LAUNCHPAD:
Oh! Yeah, good point there, DW. I, uh, sometimes have trouble with that.

He quickly turns the biplane around in midair and they resume flying.

LAUNCHPAD:
Better?

DARKWING:
Yes, actually. Lots. All right, they were headed east last time I saw them, towards the city, so be on the lookout for a flying boxcar and an overgrown killer canary!

LAUNCHPAD:
Y'know, most people don't realize that they're actually safer in the air than in their own homes, especially in St. Canard. Statistically, anyway. Yeesh, what a cesspool of crime this city is.

DARKWING:
If you hate it so much, why do you live here?

LAUNCHPAD:
Well, I used to work for Scrooge McDuck over in Duckburg, but after I'd saved enough money I quit 'n' moved here to start my own aerial chartering service. But, uh, it never really took off, no pun intended. Anyway, what a great opportunity this is! I could be your sidekick! Y'know, I have a whole scrapbook of your newspaper clippings!

DARKWING:
Is that so?

LAUNCHPAD:
Yeah! 'Course, it's not a very big scrapbook…

They fly on and soon catch up to the flying boxcar, now over the residential district with Tantalus flapping along behind it.

DARKWING:
All right, there they are. They're right under us. Can you take us lower?

LAUNCHPAD:
No problem, DW!

DARKWING:
And stop calling me-- Gyah!

Once more, Darkwing is cut off as Launchpad dives down, almost hitting Tantalus and startling Taurus Bulba, who is still observing things via the camera attached to the condor's collar. Launchpad then brings the biplane to a bone-shattering, stomach-churning halt above the boxcar. Darkwing looks extremely queasy, unsurprisingly.

DARKWING:
Ugh. Thanks a lot, Launchpad…

LAUNCHPAD:
Heh-heh-hey! I aim to please!

DARKWING:
Okay, so now that we're here, the only problem is figuring out how to bring this baby down. And where did that stupid bird go? This cat and mouse game is starting to get really monotonous.

Suddenly he is seized and yanked from his seat in the plane by Tantalus' talons, much to Launchpad's horror. The condor flies him several feet higher into the sky and then releases him. Darkwing drops like a stone.

DARKWING:
No! Wait! You don't understand! I LIKE MONTONY!!!!

And yet, as Darkwing plummets, Launchpad manages to swoop down so that his idol can grab ahold of the biplane's landing gear. Seeing this, Tantalus screeches with fury and begins to pursue the plane. Ordinarily, a condor wouldn't really be able to keep pace with an airplane, but unfortunately Launchpad's biplane is in less-than great shape, and unhealthy clunking noises begin to emit from it. Launchpad chews his lower lip (lower bill?) in dawning uneasiness. Suddenly the engine begins to sputter and emit smoke, and as a result the plane's speed decreases.

LAUNCHPAD:
Uh-oh…

DARKWING:
What do you mean, 'Uh-oh?'

LAUNCHPAD:
Mechanical problems, DW.

Launchpad turns and sees that Tantalus is swiftly gaining on the increasingly slower and slower biplane.

LAUNCHPAD:
Looks like birdie's comin' back for seconds. Don't worry, I'll shake 'im DW!

DARKWING:
That's-- Whoa!!!!

Launchpad suddenly dives down, and Tantalus quickly follows suit. Doing his best to evade Tantalus, Launchpad flies low through the trees, but unfortunately he fails to avoid nearly all the branches, which tear up the old plane something fierce. Launchpad subsequently loses control of the plane, which then flies straight through some unlucky sod's house, smashing through one side and then flying out the other, the biplane draped in someone's bedsheets.

Finally, the plane just spirals completely out of control and crashes loudly O.S. Satisfied, Tantalus turns and flies off in the direction the flying boxcar had been going. Cutting back to the plane, we see that it has lost both wings, the propeller, and the landing gear, but the fuselage remains mostly intact, luckily for Launchpad, who manages to extract himself from the wreck with just a few bumps and bruises.

Darkwing's crumpled fedora lays in the grass nearby, but Darkwing himself is nowhere to be found. Frantic, Launchpad begins searching for him.

LAUNCHPAD:
DW? DW! Wh-Where are ya? DW!

DARKWING (O.S.):
Th-That's D-Darkwing… D-Duck… ack.

Darkwing emerges from some bushes nearby, cape and suit torn, the latter missing all but one button, but like Launchpad he isn't seriously injured. Shaking away the dizziness, he limps over to Launchpad.

LAUNCHPAD:
Oh, there you are. Heh. I was, uh, afraid I'd squished ya…

DARKWING:
Ha! Darkwing Duck can't be killed that easily; I just let go of the landing gear before the plane hit the ground.

LAUNCHPAD:
Oh, uh, I found this for ya…

He holds up the fedora. Darkwing rudely snatches it from his grasp. Putting the now-drooping hat back on his head, he turns and looks in the direction Tantalus flew off in.

DARKWING:
They got away…

LAUNCHPAD:
Can't argue that point, DW. So, uh, what do we do next?

DARKWING:
'We?'

Angrily, Darkwing whirls to face Launchpad, who flinches.

DARKWING:
WE do nothing! I rely on me, nobody but me! The Masked Mallard works alone! Got that, flyboy?

LAUNCHPAD:
Well yeah, but--

DARKWING:
Thanks for your help, what little good it did me, but I just don't want a sidekick. I don't need one. Singing cowboys have sidekicks, not superheroes.

Darkwing takes out the little remote control we saw earlier, pressing the 'CALL' button on it. Launchpad suddenly tackles Darkwing's leg, hugging it tightly.

LAUNCHPAD:
Let me be your sidekick!

DARKWING:
Ack! Get off me!

LAUNCHPAD:
Oh please, please, please, please, pleeeeease!

DARKWING:
Let me make this very clear for you, Mr. McQuack; I never want to see you again. Ever.

The Ratcatcher drives up. Darkwing, after some fighting, manages to wrench his leg free from the vice-like grip of his fan. Stalking over to the motorcycle, he hops on it. He pauses, then sighs and reaches into his pocket, fishing around. He produces a scrap of paper.

DARKWING:
Before I forget, I did promise you an autograph, and Darkwing Duck's word is as good as gold. Unfortunately, I don't seem to have a pen or pencil on me. How 'bout you?

Launchpad pats himself down, then shrugs and shakes his head.

LAUNCHPAD:
Uh, no…

DARKWING:
Oh, well. Sorry. Maybe next time.

Darkwing revs the engine and speeds off, leaving a dejected-looking Launchpad standing there. Walking over to the crashed biplane, he kicks it angrily, then sighs and folds his arms across the edge of the passenger's cockpit, resting his chin in his arms. Suddenly he notices something laying on the floor by the seat… Darkwing's gas gun, which had fallen in there after crashing through the hangar roof with its owner. Launchpad picks it up and examines it, then realization dawns on him.

LAUNCHPAD:
Uh-oh. Hey, DW, you forgot your… um, whatever this is!

But Darkwing is already vanished into the night again.

INT. SECRET LAIR - STOREROOM

Taurus Bulba enters with Tantalus perched on his shoulder, followed by Hammerhead, Hoof and Mouth. Bulba is reading the copy of Action News Hammerhead bought earlier, although now he's focusing on the tiny article about Darkwing.

BULBA:
You're sure, Hammerhead? You're sure this is the one from the train?

HAMMERHEAD:
Yeah, that's the guy.

The room is separate from the rest of the lair, large enough to contain the boxcar, which sits off to one side (how they got it in here will be apparent later). The thing that was inside the boxcar, still covered by the sheet, sits in the middle of the room.

Bulba takes out a baggie containing a big hunk of meat, which he then feeds to Tantalus. The condor hungrily snaps the meat up, then flies up and perches in the rafters. Hammerhead watches him warily.

HAMMERHEAD:
Ew, that buzzard gives me the willies.

BULBA:
If it wasn't for Tantalus, that costumed buffoon would've caught you idiots for sure. However...

Turning, Bulba walks over to the sheet-covered form.

BULBA:
I must say that I am pleasantly surprised by how well you and your friends performed tonight. The Waddlemeyer Ramrod is mine, and even if that duck survived the crash, such petty annoyances will disappear once I unleash its power upon the city!

He pulls the sheet off, revealing the Waddlemeyer Ramrod in all its glory, an enormous, futuristic-looking cannon of some sort that looks like it could blow a hole in the moon. Hoof and Mouth 'Ooo' and 'Ahhh' at it.

MOUTH:
Jeepers, boss, it's big!

HAMMERHEAD:
No kiddin'. So, uh, why don't we fire it up 'n' hit a few banks?

Without answering, Bulba approaches the control console, examining the buttons. There's typical numeric and alphabetical keys, as well as a whole panel of unmarked, color-coded keys. Bulba presses the activation switch, and the screen it front of him comes to life, flashing the message, 'PLEASE ENTER ACCESS CODE.' He pounds his fist on the panel in frustration.

BULBA:
I was afraid of this. That treacherous meddler Waddlemeyer managed to program a new security system into the weapon controls. It's useless without the access code!

MOUTH:
Gee, boss. I guess you shouldn't have killed the old geezer before learnin' the code, huh?

Bulba snarls, steam jetting from his nostrils. Glaring, Hammerhead turns and pounds Mouth over the head with his fist. Suddenly he is seized by the front of his suit by Bulba, who yanks him once more up to eye-level.

BULBA:
The old fool was asking for it! Now then, there's still hope yet. Go to the St. Canard Orphanage and bring his granddaughter to me. She was practically raised in Waddlemeyer's lab. If anyone knows the code, she does. And even if she doesn't, she can tells us where her grandfather's notes are.

HAMMERHEAD:
Sure thing, boss.

Bulba drops Hammerhead on his butt. He then reaches into his pocket, removing his wallet. From it he takes a photograph showing an elderly duck, Professor Waddlemeyer, holding a little redheaded girl with pigtails.

BULBA:
Use that to identify her. Make up some story that you're an old family friend. Make like you're interested in adopting her.

HAMMERHEAD:
I dunno boss, I'm not good with kids…

BULBA:
DO IT!!!!

HAMMERHEAD:
Gyah! Sure thing, boss!

Scrambling to his feet, Hammerhead rushes out of the room with Hoof and Mouth at his heels.

INT. S.H.U.S.H. CENTRAL - J. GANDER'S OFFICE - DAY

J. GANDER HOOTER, a goose of small stature with thinning gray hair and tiny eyeglasses perched on his beak, sits behind a massive desk. Before him are spread several reports, which he is going over.

Nearby stands VLADIMIR GOUDENOV GRYZLIKOFF, a large bear with his arms folded, scowling. He is flanked by two other agents, QUARTZ (a deer) and GRAVEL (a donkey).

J. GANDER:
Anything new on the guards from the train?

GRAVEL:
No, sir.

QUARTZ:
They're still recovering from the effects of the sleeping gas, but so far none of them seem to remember who threw the capsule into the train car with them.

GRYZLIKOFF:
If they saw them at all.

J. Gander frowns deeply. He gets up from his desk and begins to pace his office. Although he is extremely tiny, the old goose nonetheless carries an air of great authority.

J. GANDER:
Well, there can be no doubt in my mind that the disappearance of Blunt and the attack on the train are connected. And since Blunt went missing while tailing Hammerhead Hannigan, we can be certain that Taurus Bulba is involved.

The three agents gasp.

J. GANDER:
He's the only one who could've possibly known that the Ramrod even exists and have the means of stealing it.

GRYZLIKOFF:
Not that it matters. Professor Waddlemeyer assured us that he'd programmed the Ramrod to only work if you have a special code.

J. GANDER:
Regardless, it's a dangerous weapon I'd prefer we have in our hands, whether we know how to turn it on or not.

In the middle of his pacing, he pauses, stroking his chin, deep in thought.

J. GANDER:
Gryzlikoff? I want someone to take a run out to the orphanage and pick up the girl.

GRAVEL:
Gosalyn Waddlemeyer?

QUARTZ:
Professor Waddlemeyer's granddaughter?

GRYZLIKOFF:
But sir, what could girl possibly have to do with--

Gryzlikoff's eyes widen in horror.

GRYZLIKOFF:
No. No, you don't think--

J. GANDER:
I do, Gryzlikoff, I do. Bulba has been obsessed with obtaining the Ramrod ever since he paid Waddlemeyer to build the infernal thing, and he'll stop at nothing.

He removes his glasses and rubs the bridge of his beak for a moment before putting them back on.

J. GANDER:
I believe he may delude himself into believing that poor girl knows the code. I want her in protective custody as soon as possible.

GRYZLIKOFF:
Yes, sir. I'll put Granite and Shale on it right away!

Gryzlikoff turns and exits, followed by Quartz and Gravel.

J. Gander watches them go, then sighs deeply and returns to his desk. Opening a drawer, he removes a framed photograph of Professor Waddlemeyer with the little redheaded girl; identical to the one Bulba gave to Hammerhead.

J. GANDER:
Waddlemeyer, old friend, I was hoping this day would never come. I don't know what I would do if that poor girl ends up paying for your mistakes.