Work Text:
The Sadistic Choice.
~~~
Gosalyn had been pacing for the last ten minutes, Quiverwing mask half-on, half-off, gloves still scattered across her desk. Her hands wouldn’t stop shaking—part nerves, part fury, part Oh-no-this-is-really-happening adrenaline.
She stared at her phone.
Violet’s contact photo smiled back at her: calm, brilliant, unshakable.
Exactly what Gosalyn needed right now.
She hit call.
It rang once. Twice. Three times. Then—
BEEP.
Voicemail.
“Hey, Vi, uh—okay, so, slight problem.” She winced at how her voice already cracked. “And by slight problem I mean a catastrophic, world-ending level disaster, BUT I’m trying to be chill about it.” A sharp breath. “Drake’s arch-nemesis—yes, that one—pretty definitely knows who I am. As in, civilian-me. As in, Gosalyn Waddlemeyer-Mallard me. And, uh… yeah. That’s bad.”
She scrubbed a hand through her hair, pacing faster.
“And, like, practically the whole city knows how much I—” She stopped herself, groaning. “Ugh, never mind, point is: I think he knows that you matter to me. A lot. More than… whatever. So—look—just stick around Duckburg more than usual, okay? Don’t go off alone. Don’t—”
The voicemail glitched.
Static buzzed, sharp and wrong.
Gosalyn froze.
“Vi?” she whispered.
The static warped into a voice. A voice she knew too well—oil-slick smooth with a serrated edge.
“Hellooo, little Wing…” NegaDuck purred. “Can she come out to play?”
Every muscle in Gosalyn’s body locked at once. Her breath punched out of her lungs. Her heart stopped, then detonated.
No.
NO.
He could NOT—
The world around her blurred. Her hands trembled, not with fear but with volcanic rage. She stabbed the phone closer to her ear.
“WHERE IS SHE?”
Her voice didn’t sound like hers—it sounded like a threat forged in pure fire.
NegaDuck tutted mockingly.
“So demanding. If you want her back so badly, Quiver-dear… come find me. And bring Daddy Dearest too.”
The line cut.
Silence.
Gosalyn stared at her phone, every nerve in her body screaming. For a second she didn’t move—not because she was frozen, but because she was calculating, planning, hunting.
Then her eyes hardened, and Quiverwing Quack slid into place like a blade being drawn.
He wanted her?
He was going to get her.
And she was bringing the storm.
~~~
The cold is what woke her. A pounding in her head made her jolt up and the gusts of chilling sea salted air that nearly blew her away without her gripping the metal beam she latched onto in fear. She could see the entirety of St. Canard before her, even despite being without her glasses.
Violet Sabrewing didn’t dare look down. She wasn’t afraid of heights per se, but having a sorceress for a big sister was helpful in keeping herself calm in high stress situations, considering she possessed no real magic abilities of her own.
The wind gusted by again, and Violet shivered, feathers fluffing in an attempt to remain warm. She wasn’t exactly dressed for the current temperature, a green T-shirt and sky blue shorts were not appropriate attire for this, whatever this was. The traffic below was clearly living up to its name as The City that Never Sleeps.
“Well well well, look at who’s up. Have a nice nap, Hummingbird?” Violet was jolted from her thoughts by the voice, a familiar one. She turned towards the sound, and found herself looking at a grotesque version of her beloved Gosalyn’s guardian’s heroic mantel. A mustard yellow jacket with black buttons, red turtleneck with a black cape and mask, and a matching red fedora. His eyes were green and blue, almost like spirals of a snake, and his beak was twisted into a smirking grin as he leaned against a chainsaw.
“Who- Who are you? What am I doing up here? This is extremely dangerous and-“ She’s cut off by him leaning the chainsaw against the wall and stalking towards her.
“You know,” He squatted down to her level, that grin getting wilder. “I think I’m starting to see the appeal, why little Isla is so enamored with you. I was wondering why she’d be so attracted to some little hummingbird, but now that I’m actually getting a good look at ya?” He brushed a lock of her curly indigo feathers from her face, causing her to jerk back and almost fall off the edge before catching herself again on the same metal beam. “Not bad for such a little thing.”
“W-what are you talking about?” She was shivering, her heart and head pounding in a weird sort of rhythm that was a mixture of adrenaline and fear as the freezing wind blew straight through her like icicles in her feathers.
The villain laughed at her, rising to his feet. “Aw, don’t worry that brainiac little head of yours. Soon enough, that fake Drake Mallard and his little Protege will come looking for you, and then the world will know who The Real Darkwing Duck is.”
~~~
The motorcycle skidded to a stop with a shriek of rubber on metal, the last echo swallowed by the wind screaming over the Audubon Bridge. Drake and Gosalyn climbed off in unison—he adjusting his cape with trembling hands, she already pulling her hood up, the familiar mask settling over her face like a second skin.
But the moment they stepped to the guardrail and looked down…
They froze.
St. Canard—their city—was chaos incarnate.
Below, the Fearsome Four tore through the streets like a natural disaster given personality. Water geysers shot twenty feet high where Liquidator slithered across pavement. Electrical grids sparked and flared in violent bursts as Megavolt danced gleefully atop a transformer. Quackerjack’s laughter—high, hysterical, broken—ricocheted between buildings, punctuated by explosions of confetti that were anything but harmless.
Drake’s breath caught in his throat.
“Jim… what have you done…”
The words escaped him not as an accusation, not even as anger—just stunned disbelief. Heartbroken disbelief. He had known Jim Starling was unstable, but this? Leading an army? Endangering civilians? Kidnapping Violet?
Even he had never predicted this endpoint.
Gosalyn didn’t speak. She couldn’t. Every frantic beat of her heart was screaming Violet’s name.
Then—
A voice slithered through the air.
Not loud. Not close. Not amplified.
Just unmistakable.
“The new Darkwing tried to rise above…”
The sing-song cadence drifted across the entire span of the bridge, light and cruel and horribly gleeful.
Gosalyn stiffened so sharply that Drake turned on instinct.
“Down came the old one to take the new one out!”
It was sung perfectly to the tune of the Itsy Bitsy Spider, which should have been funny—ridiculous, even—but something about the way he stretched certain syllables made it sound like a threat wrapped in a nursery rhyme.
And NegaDuck’s laughter followed, high and bright, like broken glass scattering across pavement.
Gosalyn gritted her teeth hard enough to ache.
“…I’m gonna kill him,” she muttered.
“Not if I get to him first,” Drake shot back, eyes blazing.
They didn’t need to communicate further.
They leapt.
Drake’s grappling gun fired first, a purple burst arcing beautifully through the air and cinching around a support cable. He swung forward in a perfect, practiced motion. Gosalyn launched right beside him—no hesitation, no backward glance—her momentum violent, fueled by fear and fury and determination sharp enough to cut steel.
The pair landed on the far end of the bridge like thunder.
Smoke curled upward in thin spirals. Floodlights flickered fitfully. Sirens wailed below, swallowed by the chaos.
And on the bridge’s edge—dangerously close to the drop—stood the monster who orchestrated it all.
NegaDuck.
His coat flapped violently in the wind, the gold fabric catching the glow of burning streetlamps below. His fedora shadowed half his face, but not enough to hide the feral grin he wore like a trophy.
But none of that mattered.
Because of what he was holding.
Gosalyn’s breath stopped.
Her stomach dropped.
Her world shrank to one single point of focus.
Violet.
Dangling off the side of the bridge by her shoulder, held aloft by NegaDuck’s gloved hand as though she weighed nothing. Her legs swung in open air, kicking instinctively whenever the wind jolted her. Her glasses were gone, and her wide, terrified eyes locked instantly onto Gosalyn’s.
“Movie star!!” NegaDuck called cheerfully, shaking her slightly for emphasis. Violet gasped and clung to his arm with both hands, trying desperately not to slip. “And my little Isla!”
Gosalyn flinched at the nickname—Violet was the only one allowed to call her that—but NegaDuck used it like a weapon.
He always did.
“You see what happens when you play hero?” he continued, leaning forward as though showing Violet off to an audience. “You never know when some lunatic will come along with a sadistic choice.”
He said it with theatrical pride, like he’d invented the concept.
Drake stepped forward like a shadow forming shape.
“Jim. Put her down.”
“Oh, I intend to!” NegaDuck chirped. Then, as if remembering he was supposed to be menacing, he added, “Eventually. Gravity’s soooo reliable.”
Gosalyn’s entire body went electric—like every nerve ending was screaming at once. She didn’t hear Drake anymore. She didn’t hear the traffic below or the hum of distant explosions or the rush of wind.
She heard Violet’s soft, terrified whimper.
She saw Violet’s fingers slipping.
She saw red.
She raised her crossbow—hands steady in a way they hadn’t been since this nightmare began.
“NegaDuck,” she said, voice low, dark, and shockingly calm, “if you don’t put her down right now, I swear on every arrow in my quiver—”
“YES, THAT’S THE ENERGY!” NegaDuck cackled. “Isn’t she adorable when she’s furious? No wonder you’re so attached, feather-brain!”
Gosalyn fired.
She didn’t think—she didn’t aim—she simply acted.
But NegaDuck jerked Violet just enough that the arrow whizzed past, embedding itself in the concrete with a vicious crack. Violet yelped as she swung, gripping harder.
Gosalyn’s heart nearly tore out of her chest.
NegaDuck tsked, delighted.
“Whoops! Careful, little Wing. You might hit something you actually care about.”
Gosalyn lunged forward in pure instinct, but Drake grabbed her arm—tight.
“Stop!” he hissed. “He wants you off-balance.”
NegaDuck beamed.
“Oh, let the girl try! She’s cute when she’s reckless.”
Gosalyn’s hood blew back slightly, revealing her furious eyes.
No fear. No hesitation.
Just fire.
“NegaDuck,” she growled, stepping forward a single, deadly step, “put. Her. Down.”
He tilted his head, smiling wide enough to show teeth.
“Make me.”
Wind whipped violently across the bridge, tugging at capes and feathers, carrying smoke, sirens, and the distant screams of civilians below. The tension between the four figures at the top of the span crackled like live wire.
NegaDuck’s grin widened until it was a sharpened crescent.
“Well,” he crooned, spinning his chainsaw idly before letting the blade slow to a purr, “now it’s time to choose.”
Gosalyn went rigid—her muscles, her breath, her heartbeat all locked.
NegaDuck lifted Violet a few inches higher, dangling her like a puppet, one gloved hand hooked brutally under her shoulder. Violet hissed in pain, fingers desperately gripping his arm to avoid slipping.
He stretched out his other hand toward the side of the bridge.
“And what a choice…”
Gosalyn forced herself to look.
Drake did too.
Their eyes widened at the same moment.
A thick steel cable—straining, fraying—held an entire city bus suspended over the bay. Inside, shadowy figures crowded the windows. Children. Adults. A full load.
“Oh no…” Drake whispered, horror turning his voice thin.
Below, Liquidator and Megavolt had cut through one of the bridge’s supports, leaving the bus hanging by that single, groaning strand of metal.
NegaDuck laughed, delighted by their realization.
“Let die the girl you love…” he sing-songed, shaking Violet again. She gasped, tiny legs kicking over empty air.
Gosalyn nearly launched herself forward, but Drake grabbed her arm.
“…or,” NegaDuck continued, sweeping his arm dramatically toward the chaos below, “suffer the innocent.”
His voice dropped to a venomous whisper.
“Let’s see how a hero is rewarded.”
Drake’s composure cracked. His voice wavered with something rawer than fear—regret.
“Jim, don’t do this. You don’t have to do this. Please.”
NegaDuck whipped toward him, rage contorting every line of his beak.
“You ruined my life!” he snarled, stepping dangerously close to the edge with Violet still in his grasp. “You STOLE it from me! So now—”
His grin returned, darker, feral.
“—I’m ruining yours.”
Gosalyn didn’t breathe.
He couldn’t.
He wouldn’t.
Not Violet.
Not her.
“That’s enough!” Gosalyn shouted, voice ringing down the bridge. “Put her down, NOW—”
NegaDuck didn’t even let her finish.
He spread his arms theatrically, Violet dangling from one, the other resting on the bus cable’s emergency release clamp.
“Now…” he purred, eyes glittering with manic green and blue light.
“Choose.”
He let go.
Of both.
Violet fell.
The cable snapped free.
Time didn’t slow.
It shattered.
Gosalyn launched herself off the bridge with a scream that ripped her throat raw. Her grappling arrow fired in a streak of purple light, embedding into the steel beam overhead. She didn’t think—her body simply moved with trained instinct, heart chasing one singular point in the universe:
Get Vi.
Get Vi.
Get My Vi.
Wind roared in her ears as she dove, the city a blur beneath. The bay surged upward, dark and deadly.
She caught Violet first—arms locking around her waist with such force she felt Violet’s breath leave her in a soft, terrified squeak. But Gosalyn didn’t stop. She couldn’t.
Because the bus—heavy, screaming, plummeting—was falling too.
With a roar of effort, she extended her free hand and snagged the snapping cable.
The force nearly wrenched her shoulder out of its socket. The grappling line jolted taut, and the weight of an entire bus yanked both girls downward before the line stabilized.
Gosalyn screamed—not in fear but in effort—as her shoulder blazed white-hot with strain.
But she never loosened her grip on either Violet or the cable.
Above them, Drake and NegaDuck clashed in an explosion of motion—purple cape and yellow coat whirling, fists and gadgets flying, shadows dancing against firelight.
Below them, civilians on a Coast Guard ship scrambled to position under the swinging bus, engines roaring as they maneuvered into place.
But in Gosalyn’s world, there was only the trembling girl clinging to her like she was oxygen.
“Vi—Vi hey—HEY, babes,” Gosalyn gasped, breathless but gentle, her voice brushing Violet’s ear like a lifeline. “Love of my life, I’ve got you. I’m here. Breathe, Vi. Breathe, babes—breathe.”
Violet shook violently, feathers fluffed in panic, curls whipping in the cold air. Her hands—small, shaking—fisted in Gosalyn’s suit as she buried her face against her shoulder, sobbing.
“G-Gos—Gosalyn—” she stammered, voice fractured with fear.
“I know, baby, I know. I’ve got you.” Gosalyn tightened her hold around her waist, doing her best not to move her arms too much or jostle either life she held. Her muscles screamed. The cable groaned. But she didn’t let go. “You’re safe. You’re with me.”
Violet’s voice cracked.
“H-he—he touched me—he—played with my feathers and—”
Something monstrous and protective detonated behind Gosalyn’s ribs.
Her vision went sharp.
Her grip on the cable tightened dangerously.
“What?” she hissed, fury carving itself across her features. “He touched you? He—Vi, look at me.”
Violet shook her head, tightening her hold around Gosalyn’s neck like a terrified child clinging to shelter.
She was so small.
So soft.
So heartbreakingly pretty even with her feathers rumpled and tears in her huge amber eyes.
Gosalyn’s heart ached with love and rage and terror all at once.
The ship below moved into position, horns blaring.
“Vi, babes, you need to slide down the cable,” Gosalyn urged, voice low, soothing but firm. “I need you safe. Please.”
Violet’s grip tightened until it hurt.
She shook her head violently.
Her whole body trembled.
This spot—this position—Gosalyn’s arms around her—
Her brain clung to it like a life raft.
“No—no no—Gosalyn please don’t—please don’t make me—”
“Vi.” Gosalyn pressed her forehead to Violet’s, voice trembling from pain but so full of tenderness it felt like a vow. “Hey. Shh. I’ve got you. You know I would never make you do something dangerous. Ever. I do not risk My Vi. Do you hear me?”
Violet froze.
Gosalyn swallowed hard.
“Do you hear me,” she repeated softly,
“Violet Apollonia Sabrewing?”
Violet’s breath caught.
Her heart stuttered.
Gosalyn had never said her full name.
Never said it like it meant something sacred.
Never said it like a promise.
Violet lifted her head, eyes wide, shining with terror and something warmer.
Something brighter.
And then she made her choice.
She leaned in—
—and kissed her.
Dangling over a bridge.
Holding life and death in each hand.
Chaos above, salvation below.
The world trembling around them—
—and Violet kissed her like Gosalyn was the safest place in the universe.
Melodramatic?
Yes.
Ridiculous?
Absolutely.
Perfect?
Completely.
Two terrified girls suspended over the bay in a moment of impossible stillness, sealed by a kiss that said:
I trust you.
I choose you.
You are home.
The world returned abruptly after the kiss—sound, color, pain, everything crashing back into place all at once.
Gosalyn blinked.
Blinked again.
“…oh.”
She stared at Violet, dazed, swaying slightly with the weight of the bus and the line.
“…wow.”
A wild little laugh escaped her—half delirious, half joyous.
“Girls.”
Violet made a strangled hrrk noise, feathers fluffing in offense even as she clung tighter, trembling so hard Gosalyn could feel it in her ribs.
That was her girlfriend.
Her ridiculous, tiny, genius girlfriend.
The one dangling over certain doom and still sighing at Gosalyn’s comedic timing.
“Girls…” Violet echoed faintly, voice small and hoarse. “Gosa… that’s… that’s what you’re going with?”
Gosalyn snorted breathlessly, trying not to lose her grip on either her girlfriend or an entire city bus.
“Babe, I’m holding like—”
She grunted, muscles screaming.
“—a whole public transit disaster. I reserve the right to say something stupid.”
Violet didn’t respond.
She pressed her face back into Gosalyn’s neck, curls tickling her cheek, body shaking uncontrollably.
Her thoughts were scrambled, but one stood out with crystalline clarity:
Gosalyn was safe.
Gosalyn meant safe.
Stay with safe.
She didn’t want to let go.
Her fingers curled tighter in the fabric of Gosalyn’s suit, her shoulders shaking violently.
She wasn’t crying out of fear anymore—she was crying because the fear had been too much, too long, too sharp, and her body was clinging to the one anchor it trusted.
Violet Sabrewing, who could calculate spell geometries in her sleep, who could out-analyze half of SHUSH, who could solve multivariable equations without a calculator, was reduced to instinct:
Stay.
Hold.
Don’t fall.
Hold Gosalyn.
And she hated that she couldn’t make her body cooperate, couldn’t force herself to do the logical, correct, safe thing.
Gosalyn felt it all.
Every tremor.
Every gasp.
Every frantic heartbeat.
And even with her shoulder nearly dislocating and her fingers at the edge of numbness, her voice remained soft.
“Vi.”
Another pull of strain rippled up her arm, but her voice never cracked.
“Babes, you gotta let go.”
Violet shook her head violently against her.
“No—no, no, Gosalyn, please—please don’t—”
“Hey.” Gosalyn leaned her forehead against Violet’s, the gesture tender despite the shaking of the cable. “Babes. Look at me.”
Violet didn’t want to.
But she did.
Her eyes—huge, amber, wet—searched Gosalyn’s face like she was terrified she would disappear.
“Vi,” Gosalyn whispered, brushing her nose against Violet’s, “you gotta slide down the cable to the ship. They can catch you. I need you safe so I can deal with Starling.”
Violet tried to answer, but only a choked breath came out.
Her brain said: She’s right, logically. You’ll be safe.
You need to move.
Her body said: ABSOLUTELY NOT.
“I—I can’t—my legs won’t—Gosa I can’t—” she sobbed.
Gosalyn gave her the softest kiss imaginable—just a brush of her lips against Violet’s trembling ones. Not a dramatic kiss, not a hungry one—just a grounding, anchoring, gentle kiss.
Violet went still.
Her breathing hitched.
Gosalyn pulled back just an inch.
“Hey. I’m right here.” Her voice was velvet-warm, steady despite everything. “You can do this. I’ll be with you the whole way.”
“Gosalyn…” Violet whispered, a plea wrapped in fear.
“I would never let anything happen to you,” Gosalyn murmured. “You know that, right? I do not risk My Vi.”
Violet closed her eyes, breath shuddering.
“Please,” Gosalyn whispered, “slide down. Let me keep you safe.”
Violet swallowed.
Her hands loosened—just barely.
Enough to show she was trying.
Gosalyn nuzzled her hair, whispering:
“That’s it. Good girl. I’ve got you. I’m right here. Just slide, babe.”
Violet forced herself to turn.
Forced her fingers to move.
Forced her legs to wrap around the cable.
She didn’t fall.
Because Gosalyn guided her.
Because her body trusted Gosalyn more than it trusted gravity.
The Coast Guard ship below adjusted position, horns blasting in signal readiness.
Violet slid, trembling like a leaf in a storm, her fingers slipping but catching, slipping but catching.
Wincing with every shift.
Looking up at Gosalyn every single second, never breaking eye contact.
Gosalyn mouthed: I’m here.
When Violet reached the ship’s railing, hands immediately caught her. She collapsed into the crew’s arms, shaking violently.
But the moment her feet touched the deck, she looked up—
—and saw Gosalyn still holding the full weight of the cable.
Gosalyn shouted down:
“MOVE THE SHIP UNDER IT—NOW!”
The captain obeyed immediately, reversing engines with a thunderous roar. A cluster of Coast Guard officers braced beneath the swaying bus.
Gosalyn’s shoulder felt like molten iron.
Her fingers were slipping.
Her breath came in ragged, sharp gasps.
Finally—
The ship aligned perfectly beneath the falling vehicle.
Gosalyn let go.
The bus dropped like a stone, slamming onto the reinforced deck with a metallic scream that echoed across the bay.
Cheers erupted from below.
But Gosalyn didn’t hear them.
She swung herself up the grappling line with the last of her adrenaline, flipping onto the beam with a grunt, chest heaving.
Her vision swam.
Her muscles trembled.
Her fingers were bleeding.
And she still pushed to her feet with fire in her eyes.
Because above her—across the bridge—Drake was still fighting NegaDuck.
And NegaDuck had touched Violet.
Taunted Violet.
Scared Violet.
LAID HIS HANDS on her girl.
Gosalyn spat blood, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and grabbed a new arrow.
“Ohhh, you’re DEAD,” she growled, voice low and dangerous as she sprinted back across the beam.
“Touching my girlfriend? Traumatizing her?
Yeah, okay, Starling.
Now it’s my turn.”
She vaulted onto the bridge with the speed of a thrown knife.
Every step radiated fury.
Every breath was war.
And NegaDuck—still sparring with Drake—glanced up just in time to see Quiverwing Quack coming for him like a storm given legs.
Drake felt it first.
He froze mid-parry, eyes widening.
“Oh no…” he breathed. “Oh no. Jim… you have no idea what you’ve done.”
Because from the far side of the bridge came a sound—
A battle cry.
A declaration.
A promise of violence.
“OI! STARLING!!!”
The entire bridge shuddered with the force of her voice.
“YOU. TOUCHED. MY. GIRL!!”
NegaDuck actually paused, blinking in surprise as Gosalyn sprinted across the span with murder in her eyes and an arrow drawn like she was ready to puncture the concept of evil itself.
Her boots hit the pavement with a thundering determination. Her hair whipped around her like wildfire. Her entire body radiated fury so intense it distorted the air around her like heat off asphalt.
NegaDuck’s eyebrows shot up.
“Oho?” he purred. “The little Wing has claws today.”
Drake stepped back slowly.
Hands raised.
Nope. Not interfering with that.
“Alright,” Drake announced loudly, backing away from the fight. “I’m letting her off the leash. Good luck, Jim.”
NegaDuck scoffed, flipping his chainsaw casually onto his shoulder.
“That supposed to scare me? She’s just a kid—”
Gosalyn’s arrow sank into the pavement at his feet with enough force to crack concrete.
He looked down. Then up.
“Oh,” he murmured. “She’s mad.”
Mad wasn’t the word. Gosalyn was vibrating with rage—her whole body trembling with leftover adrenaline, physical pain, and the profound fury that came from someone hurting the person she loved most.
“You touched Violet,” she hissed, stalking forward with predatory precision. “You touched my girlfriend. You scared her. You made her cry. You made her—”
She choked on the last part because she remembered vividly the way Violet had clung to her, shaking, feathers puffed out in sensory overload, unable to speak.
She remembered how small Violet had felt.
How her curls had been tangled.
How her feathers had been messed with—something only family or chosen loved ones were allowed to touch because Violet was autistic and extremely sensitive to tactile input.
And NegaDuck had toyed with her like a doll.
Gosalyn’s fury doubled. Tripled.
NegaDuck smirked.
“Ohhh, that,” he said, voice silky with sadistic glee. “She was soft. Such a tiny little thing. Barely weighs more than my hat. I can see why you like her.”
Gosalyn’s pupils shrank to pinpricks.
“She’s like a little doll,” NegaDuck continued, sighing dreamily. “Soft and fluffy—pretty little curls—oh she squeaked when I touched her feathers—”
“DON’T SAY ANOTHER WORD ABOUT HER FEATHERS!” Gosalyn screamed, arrow trembling violently in her grip.
NegaDuck grinned.
And made the mistake of pushing further.
“You know,” he mused cruelly, “if I really wanted to make sure you came running? Oh, I could’ve thought of so many things to do to her besides a phone call—”
That was it.
Every violent, protective instinct in Gosalyn detonated.
Her brain stopped thinking in words and switched to ADHD Protective Teacup Mode—the part of her that categorized Violet as something tiny, precious, fragile, and beautiful. Something that should only ever be held gently. Something you place on a shelf with both hands and whispered apologies if you even jostle it.
Violet was a teacup.
A tiny, fancy, perfect teacup.
Who fit in the palms of Gosalyn’s heart.
And Starling had dangled that teacup over a bridge and put greasy villain hands all over her.
Gosalyn snapped.
She lunged with a roar that shook the bridge.
Drake had to literally jump backward to avoid getting caught in the blast radius.
Launchpad—who had just arrived, having driven from Duckburg like a man possessed—skidded onto the scene in his plane-themed car.
“DW! I got here as fast as—HOLY GUACAMOLE WHAT’S GOSALYN DOING?!”
“Going feral,” Drake answered simply, brushing soot off his cape. “We have to handle the other villains.”
Launchpad saluted.
“Got it! Leave Jim to her!”
They split off, racing toward Liquidator, Megavolt, and Quackerjack—each engaged in their own particular brand of mayhem.
But NegaDuck?
He had the worse fate.
Because Gosalyn slammed into him like an avenging comet.
Her fist cracked across his jaw before he could raise the chainsaw.
Her knee drove into his stomach, knocking the wind from him.
She ripped the chainsaw from his grip and kicked it into the water.
“You touched her!” she snarled, punctuating every word with a hit.
“You—scared—HER!”
NegaDuck blocked one blow with his arm, but she was stronger than she should be—pure adrenaline and desperate protectiveness giving her a surge of near-superhuman strength.
“She loves her feathers,” Gosalyn spat as she grabbed his collar and slammed him against a support beam. “They’re sensitive. They’re special. Only people she trusts can touch them!”
NegaDuck wheezed, dazed.
“Not my fault she’s a hypersensitive little—”
Gosalyn’s growl echoed like thunder.
“DON’T YOU FINISH THAT SENTENCE!”
Something shifted in NegaDuck’s face—something like bewilderment.
He realized then that he hadn’t unleashed a scared child.
He had unleashed a nightmare wearing a superhero mask.
A nightmare with biceps.
And a girlfriend.
Gosalyn shoved him harder, eyes blazing.
“She clung to me because you overloaded her,” she snarled. “Because she didn’t feel safe. Because you made her brain shut down. And I SWEAR, Starling—”
She drew an arrow, pressing it against his throat.
“—I will make you regret that.”
NegaDuck swallowed.
“…oh,” he said faintly. “I miscalculated.”
“BIG TIME!”
She punched him so hard his hat flew off the bridge and fluttered into the bay like a defeated duck-shaped moth.
NegaDuck staggered back from the latest blow, one hand clutching his jaw, the other bracing himself against the concrete. His coat was torn, feathers disheveled, fedora gone forever to the depths of the bay.
He should have stopped.
Anyone with base-level survival instincts would have stopped.
Even Megavolt—across the bridge, currently being flung into a lamppost by Launchpad—screamed,
“NEGS, MAN, SHUT! UP!”
Liquidator winced.
Quackerjack covered his eyes.
Even Bushroot whispered, “He’s done for.”
But NegaDuck wiped blood from his beak and grinned like a rabid wolf.
“Well now,” he rasped, breathless but smug, “that was cute. You hit harder than your father, little Wing.”
Gosalyn didn’t blink.
Her chest heaved with adrenaline.
Her hands shook with the effort not to immediately jump him again.
“Oh?” NegaDuck sing-songed, leaning on the railing. “Still mad about the girlfriend thing? I mean, honestly—I barely touched the hummingbird.”
Her arrow twitched.
“And yet she squeaked anyway,” he added, delighted. “Just a little brush of the cheek… a fingertip under a feather… she practically jumped out of her skin!”
Gosalyn made a noise so low and deadly that it didn’t sound human.
Drake yelled from behind her, “STARLING, THAT’S ENOUGH—”
“Oh please,” NegaDuck snapped. “I’m just saying—if I really wanted her rattled?”
He tapped his beak thoughtfully.
“Ohhh I could’ve done plenty to make you come running faster.”
The entire bridge went silent.
Launchpad froze mid-punch.
Drake’s eyes went round.
A civilian on the Coast Guard ship fainted.
“Dude,” Megavolt whimpered, “you are digging your own grave!”
But NegaDuck’s self-preservation instinct had long since died.
He paced in front of Gosalyn like a wolf teasing prey.
“I mean, she’s so tiny,” he continued. “And so delicate! Those cute little curls, those big doe eyes—she looks like she’d break if you sneezed on her. A little doll. A teacup.”
Gosalyn’s vision went white-hot around the edges.
“And since she’s all soft and fluffy,” NegaDuck continued, grinning wider, “I bet she makes the sweetest little noises when—”
That was the moment the universe collectively agreed NegaDuck had wounded his last pride, committed his last crime, and crossed his last line.
Because Gosalyn didn’t just snap.
She detonated.
A scream ripped from her throat—a raw, animal sound of fury and fear intertwined. Every thought in her head collapsed into one violently obsessive loop:
What if he did hurt her?
What could he have done?
What DID he think he could’ve done?
My Vi—my tiny, perfect, delicate Vi—NO NO NO NO—
Her heart seized painfully as every horrifying image her brain conjured flooded her all at once.
Violet crying harder.
Violet unable to breathe.
Violet trying to curl protectively in on herself.
Violet being touched without consent.
Violet alone.
Violet scared.
And NegaDuck laughing.
That was enough to push Gosalyn’s rage into a place even she had never been.
She lunged.
Not just fast—blinding.
The sound her feet made hitting the pavement was like a gunshot.
NegaDuck barely had time to lift his arms before Gosalyn slammed him backward into the support beam so hard it dented.
“You—TOUCHED—HER—FEATHERS!!” she screamed, punctuating each word with a brutal hit.
NegaDuck tried to block but she was stronger—fueled by adrenaline, terror, and the kind of protective devotion only a disaster lesbian could muster.
“You overloaded her!”
Punch.
“You scared her so bad she couldn’t MOVE!”
Punch.
“You made her cling to me because she thought she was gonna DIE!”
Punch.
“She TRUSTS me, you psycho!”
Punch.
“And you made her brain BREAK!”
NegaDuck coughed, losing his grip on consciousness.
Gosalyn grabbed his coat, yanking him up so their beaks were nearly touching.
“You did that to MY girlfriend,” she hissed, trembling with rage so fierce her whole body burned. “My Violet. My precious, delicate, soft, perfect—TEACUP of a GIRLFRIEND. You made her cry. You made her scared. You made her think she wasn’t safe.”
NegaDuck forced a bloody smile.
“She wasn’t.”
The bridge went silent except for the roaring in Gosalyn’s ears.
She drew back her fist with every intention of ending this fight permanently.
Drake appeared instantly—between them in a swirl of cape and authority. He grabbed Gosalyn’s wrist mid-swing, the force of her punch buckling his knees.
“Quiverwing,” Drake said sharply.
No humor.
No softness.
Just a father commanding a hero.
“That’s enough.”
“But he—” she choked, still trying to shove around him.
“I know,” Drake said gently but firmly, tightening his grip until she stopped shaking his hold. “He’s had enough.”
Gosalyn gasped for breath, staring at NegaDuck sprawled half-unconscious on the cement. She wasn’t satisfied. She wasn’t anywhere near satisfied. Her heart still screamed for Violet—her poor, tiny girlfriend who had needed her so badly.
She trembled violently, adrenaline crashing through her in painful waves.
Drake stepped closer, voice low.
“Gosalyn. He can’t hurt her anymore.”
But Gosalyn didn’t look at him.
She stared at NegaDuck.
Because in that moment, in her heart, the only truth that existed was this:
If he had taken it one step further, Drake wouldn’t have been fast enough to stop her.
The second Drake pulled her back, the moment NegaDuck slumped unconscious against the beam, the fight drained from Gosalyn like a storm losing its lightning.
One thought replaced every violent impulse in her head:
Find Vi.
Find my Vi.
FIND MY VI.
She didn’t even acknowledge Drake stepping away, or Launchpad cheering after dropkicking Megavolt into a patrol car, or the Coast Guard shouting for paramedics.
She bolted.
Her boots pounded across the bridge, cape snapping behind her, heart hammering so hard it hurt. Every breath came out as a ragged gasp.
“VI!!!!” she screamed, voice cracking into the wind.
Heads turned. Officers startled. Civilians pointed.
But Gosalyn didn’t care. She practically vaulted over the railing down onto the Coast Guard ship, landing with the grace of a feral ballerina. She didn’t slow—just sprinted across the deck toward the cluster of crew members surrounding a very small, very shaken lavender feathered girl.
“Move—move, MOVE!” Gosalyn barked as she shoved her way through the crowd, not waiting for anyone to obey.
The crew parted, startled.
And then she saw her.
Violet.
Wrapped in a blanket.
Sitting on the deck.
Feathers puffed, curls messy, hands shaking so violently she had them pressed between her knees to keep from clawing at her own arms.
Her eyes—wide, watery, exhausted—lifted the second she heard Gosalyn’s voice.
“Quiver?” she whispered, because they were in public, and she would protect her girlfriend’s identity even while half-sobbing.
Gosalyn’s heart broke and rebuilt itself in one violent crash.
“VI!”
She practically launched herself forward.
Violet was up before she even realized she moved—throwing her arms open.
And Gosalyn caught her.
Lifted her.
Spun her.
Violet squeaked—an involuntary, startled little sound—and then immediately buried her face in Gosalyn’s shoulder, arms tightening around her neck like a tiny lavender koala.
The crew stared.
Launchpad sniffed loudly from the bridge above.
Drake pinched the bridge of his beak, trying not to get emotional.
Even Bushroot whispered, “Aww.”
Gosalyn slowed the spin, holding Violet close, grounding her with contact and warmth and safety.
“You’re okay,” Gosalyn breathed, pressing her cheek against Violet’s curls. “You’re okay, I’ve got you, I’ve got you…”
Violet clung tighter, legs wrapping instinctively around Gosalyn’s waist—her preferred meltdown-safe position. Her feathered fingers fisted into Quiverwing’s suit, trembling.
“You came back,” Violet whispered, voice cracking.
Gosalyn laughed—wet, shaky, overwhelmed.
“Of COURSE I came back! Vi—babes—my love—you think I’m leaving you with that psycho?!”
Violet tried to say something else, but her lip wobbled, and instead she pressed her face deeper into Gosalyn’s shoulder, letting out a small whimper.
Gosalyn froze for half a second.
Then she hugged tighter.
“Hey hey hey…” she whispered, rubbing her cheek against Violet’s hair since she couldn’t use her hands. “Shh, you’re safe. You’re with me. I’m right here. Nobody’s touching you ever again, okay?”
Violet nodded into her neck—tiny, shaky nods.
The wind blew cold off the water, but tucked in Gosalyn’s arms with her cloak wrapped around them like a shield, Violet was warm. Safe. Small in that way she only ever allowed Gosalyn to see.
Her legs squeezed tighter around her waist—a grounding pressure.
Her hands trembled, but she kept them locked behind Gosalyn’s neck.
Gosalyn rested her chin on Violet’s head, breathing her in.
“Babes,” she whispered softly, “I swear, you nearly gave me a heart attack.”
Violet’s voice was muffled.
“You nearly gave me one.”
Gosalyn smiled, breath shaky.
“Fair.”
Violet pulled back just enough to look at her, eyes huge and shining.
“Quiver…” she whispered, voice still fragile. “You saved me.”
Gosalyn cupped the back of Violet’s head (carefully avoiding sensitive feathers), pulling her in again.
“I’ll always save you,” she murmured. “Always. Forever. That’s the deal.”
Violet made a soft, flustered sound and cuddled closer—tiny koala girlfriend fully activated, gripping Gosalyn like she was the calm eye in a hurricane.
And Gosalyn held her as though she were the most precious item in the universe.
Because she was.