Chapter Text
Chapter 1
Darkwing was surprised when he got a call from a SHUSH 3rd party holder. There was a situation on the outskirts of St. Canard involving a major highway and semi-trailer owned by a nationwide hardware franchise. The circumstances were deemed too dangerous for police but not urgent enough for the full force of SHUSH. Besides, the person responsible for said situation had asked for him by name.
Gosalyn was in school, and Launchpad was across the city meeting with someone from Duckburg. Drake Mallard was flying solo. With the situation not ideal but necessary, he sped across the suburbs to the urban outskirts of St. Canard, placing guesses on who was responsible for such an out-of-the-way crime and why they requested him. But upon closing in the last mile to the scene, the identity of the mystery culprit was melted away. Namely by the number of civilian cars and police cruisers hefted and suspended in the air by plant roots the size of subway cars.
The final hint Drake received was a clip from an on-scene officer’s radio. Something about thorns and snapper plants. Yep. It was Bushroot.
Guiding the suited-up Ratcatcher through the maze of terrified people, cluttered traffic and asphalt that had been peeled up like potato shavings wasn’t easy. Finally, at the last cop car, Drake dismounted and ran into the thicket of brambles and cactus. Balling up his cape, Darkwing swore quietly to himself as he didn’t want any more holes in his custom silk-blend. Just as he prepared to chop his way through the small pop-up jungle, the plants around him receded, pulling in their barbs and opening a way toward an up-turned trailer in the middle of the highway. He then ran ahead down the path that was shown him before pulling his gas gun. This was going to be one hell of a fight.
Or was it?
Inside the tractor trailer was a roiling mess of vines, pulling dozens of white bags into the sunlight before setting them in a neat pile. And sitting on the top of the trailer was Dr. Bushroot, his fantastic pink plumes opened skyward as he sucked in sun and warmth.
Instinctually, Darkwing took aim even as he was running toward the scene, “Hold it right there, you over-grown thistle!”
Chartreuse eyes with blue pools popped open and immediately a look of worry came over the plant-mutant’s features.
“Whoa! Would you point that somewhere else!” Bushroot curled a finger and a root wider than Drake’s arm snapped out of the ground and grabbed his hand.
Dropping his gun to his left and only free hand, Drake pointed his weapon at the doctor and sneered.
“I’ve been working on my weed-eating formula,” the safety was off, “Care to sample?”
The villain held up his hands as his flower hair fluffed back to its normal shape.
“Will you please!” Bushroot flinched. “I asked for you here! I don’t want a fight!”
That made Drake frown harder, “Says the lettuce head on top of a massive highway pileup! Come down and keep those hands up!”
The mutant swallowed hard as a Monstera leaf the size of a rug snuck over the truck and gave him a ride to the pavement. He held up his hands and Drake noticed his appearance was a little softer. He sported more yellow than his usual vibrant greens. That made Darkwing lower his gun.
“I can explain! These I bought these!” Bushroot threw a thumb over his shoulder at the pile of white bags.
“You bought them? To steal them?” the hero squinted as he pulled his wrist out of the root’s grasp and marched up to the convicted criminal. Bushroot swallowed and ground his jaw as Darkwing stood before him.
“I’m not stealing them!” He argued.
Drake was nose to nose with him, “You overturned a semi-trailer on the freeway, disrupted hundreds of people’s Thursday afternoon and made a mess of public property! What do you mean you’re not stealing?”
At that there was a flitting expression of anger on the mutant’s face, “Can you see me walking into a hardware store in St. Canard and asking for the 2 metric tons of plant-grade nitrate that I ordered online?”
He had him there. Drake settled back onto the balls of his feet, “You bought these? With what money?”
Bushroot dropped his hands and looked cross, “Selling roses. It’s honest money. I have the invoice.” Motioning for it, Darkwing holstered his gas gun. “It’s in the truck! I don’t have pockets.”
Sniffing, Drake stepped around the scientist and made his way over to the cab of the semi. Swatting plants out of the way and toeing around broken glass, he fished out the invoice from a folder in the glovebox. He glanced over the paper and saw that Bushroot was telling the truth. Still… nitrate in such a huge quantity… in the hands of a convicted supervillain.
“Your story checks out, Bushy,” Darkwing snorted, walking back over to the mutant. “But I can’t let you have your order.”
Bushroot’s eyes flared, and Drake could have sworn he heard a rattle of dead leaves, “Why not?!”
Bushroot was the twisted supervillain form of a supposedly famous botanist bookworm biologist who decided to experiment on himself. Though Bushroot was powerful, his character was very much non-hostile and adverse to confrontation. Should he figure out how dangerous he actually was and what he was capable of, he could very well be one of, if not the biggest threat to this side of the seaboard. So, it sent a tendril of fear and concern oozing into Drake’s mind when he heard Bushroot take such a tone with him.
Darkwing stood his ground, “This is nitrate.”
“Plant grade nitrate! Meaning it has additives and is not conducive for bomb making, if that’s what you are implying!” Bushroot growled out.
“That being so… 2 tons is a lot. And can make a lot of dangerous things,” Drake saw the scientist rub his face in frustration.
“It’s for my plants. My roses to be exact!” He was getting more agitated.
And Drake was then torn… He was doing his duty as a hero by keeping dangerous things out of dangerous people’s hands. But then again, he’d always had a soft spot for Bushroot. And he knew Bushroot was more inclined to his plants than anything else.
“Listen, Bushroot,” he sighed, still receiving a glare from the mutant. “I believe you. I know you just want to be left alone and garden. If it were up to me, I’d let you have what you bought.”
Bushroot grimaced as Darkwing walked over to the pallet of nitrate and sat on a bag, “I feel a ‘but’ coming on…”
“Let’s strike a deal. I’ll let you take a quarter ton of your order today. No following, no tracking, nothing,” Drake grinned a little as he saw some stress drop off Bushroot. “And I’ll let you have the rest. Over time. But in little bursts. So that way I can keep an eye on what you’re doing. And if you’re just using it for your flowers, you have nothing to be concerned about.”
Bushroot sneered, “That will hurt my crop!”
“Hey!” Drake leaned forward, “You asked me here. I’m easier to deal with than the police or SHUSH. I’m doing my job and giving you more leeway than I’m required to give you. Now either you take my deal and have some of your nitrate with a little supervision OR… you can have none and walk away with a blackeye. Your choice, Doc.”
Drake tilted his hat and hoped his expression mirrored his statement. Bushroot’s eyes scanned over the pallet of badly needed chemicals and then over Darkwing’s form. Finally, he caved, his shoulders slouching.
“Deal, Darkwing,” he grunted. Drake swelled at the agreement but then shriveled just as fast.
Now he’d have to spend a lot of time with Dr. Reginal Bushroot.