Actions

Work Header

Missing Moment: Episode- Battle of the Brainteasers

Chapter Text

“What are you three doing?”

The unexpected voice caused the aliens to spin around, staring in shock at the violet-caped figure stalking toward them. Flarg felt his host-body's heart speed up as he stared at the ravishing creature. A wide-brimmed wonder like that must be another Fezanchaneian.

Tipping himself to the side on his host's head, Flarg cast a smooth look at the beautifully-stitched tando. “We-ee-ell. What's a nice clorn like you doing on a planet like this?”

“Very funny, LP. Shouldn't you kids be doing your homework?” the masked-duck asked, her ivory-feathered hands coming to rest on her hips.

~She's so forceful; I must have her. We shall rule the galaxy together!~

“Barada! Nikto! Don't you two have somewhere else to be?” the bowler hat growled, casting a glare over his shoulder at his subordinates.

“Right away, boss!”

“That was a little harsh, Launchpad. A simple 'Go home' would have sufficed.” The other Fezanchaneian turned away, giving Flarg a delicious view of her silky backside. That lovely black belt did nothing to slim her rather... ample figure. And her host-body wasn't so bad either.

“So, my delicate fedora, what would you say to getting a bite to eat? We could dine under the stars and get to know each other,” Flarg purred, sneaking up behind the petite duck so that he could cast an arm around her shoulders.

Turning quickly, though not fully pulling out of his reach, she began to protest. “I'm in the middle of important business, LP. I don't have time to...”

Flarg the Terrible, Grand High Potentate of a thousand planets in the Delphonic Nebula, was not about to take No for an answer. Swooping down, he sealed her bill with his own. She trembled in his arms, allowing his host's tongue to slip into her host's mouth in an intimate caress. He clutched her tighter, staring deeply into her eyes...

“AAAAAGH!”

***

“What the? LP?!” Darkwing Duck pushed himself off the floor, glaring at his amorous sidekick in confusion. The pelican was gasping for breath, staring up at him in shock.

“You're not a Fezanchaneian! You're nothing more than a husk,” the pilot shouted, pointing at the caped-crusader's head.

“Is this about my hat? Seriously?” Drake slipped the tando off his head and studied it. Nope, there didn't seem to be anything wrong with it.

“You, Earthian female, have toyed with the great Flarg's affections for the last time!”

Darkwing launched himself to the side as his best friend leaped toward him. Now that he had a chance to think about it, there was something very strange about Launchpad's appearance. “Is that new hat?”

“Dad, run! Launchpad's been taken over by an alien!”

The masked-mallard turned to see his daughter racing toward him, her little friend hot on her heels. His eyes narrowed on the pepper shaker in Honker's hands, only moments before the boy flung it toward him. Gasping, he swept his cape over his face to avoid getting the spice in his eyes. An arm wrapped around his neck, pulling him back roughly. Then the body behind him began to sneeze.

“ACHOO!”

“Get him, Honker!”

“What's going on, DW?”

Drake felt the arm loosen, yet the larger body remained a solid support against his back. Uncovering his eyes, the crime-fighter blinked in shock at the black dust covering his lair. A quick glance to the side revealed the children trying to shove a bowler hat into a sack. The hat's eyes were wide and menacing, but softened slightly as they locked onto his own.

“You have not seen the last of Flarg, my wide-brimmed wonder! Even if you are just a husk, I will not rest until I have claimed you and your Earthian-host for my own!” The hat's words cut off as he was finally stuffed into the bag, leaving the ducks to ponder the strange events of that evening.

“So... what just happened? Last thing I remember was hunting for aliens with Gosalyn and Honker,” Launchpad admitted, stepping away from the shorter man.

“You don't remember anything? Nothing at all?” Drake asked, casting a strange look over his shoulder at the taller avian.

“Nope. Although my beak feels a little sore.” The pilot was too busy pondering the odd sensation to notice the light flush on Darkwing's ivory cheeks.

“Don't worry about it, LP. Let's take care of the alien scum and go home. I could use a good night's sleep.”