Still Standing
RATING: PG-13
SUMMARY: How do you escape from the Saurians when their shapeshifter is at the Pond-posing as you?!?!?
WARNINGS: Violence.
DISCLAIMER: I NO OWN. NO MONEY. NO SUE.
“I have a plan.” Draguanus announced, so all his henchmen stopped what they were doing and looked at him.
“Eh, what da plan, boss?” Chameleon asked, turning into Bugs Bunny.
“This.” Dragaunus hissed. “Duçula, this job’s for you.”
The black and white buck grinned ferally. “What is it?”
“Replace this duck.” He laughed, and pointed to the view screen, where a picture of a young, female duck was show, a duck with hair like flames – red on the bottom fading up to blond. “Replace her, and find whatever technology you can there. If you can find none, destroy the Pond.”
Duçula crowed with laughter. “Oh yes! My dear 'cousin' Christé.” Then she morphed into the duck on the view screen, even her black duck mask morphing to look like Christé’s gold one. She held the mask pendant up between two fingers, and in Christé’s voice laughed. “Let’s get ready to party!”
***
Christé, the real one, poked her head into the Ready Room. “Wing,” she called. “I’m goin’ for a walk!”
“Where’re you going?” Wildwing called back, looking up from his newspaper.
Christé shrugged. “I don’t know, the mall. I guess.”
“Alright,” Wildwing conceded. “Just be back in time for the game at 7:00.”
“No problem,!” Christé called back, and jogged to the elevator. Once up on the ground floor, she hurried through the locker room, past the ice, and out into the early evening warmth of Anaheim.
She stopped in quick at Captain Comics to say hi to Thrash and Mookie and pick up the latest Superman comic. Nosedive teased her about reading them, but she’d caught him reading her early copies once.
Swinging the comic by her side, she headed out of the comic shop and wandered along the streets. Everything was quit, and she was well relaxed when she saw as elderly lady struggling to coax a cat out of a tree.
Christé grinned, and walked over. “Can I be a help?” she asked.
“Oh, absolutely!” The woman smiled, and before Christé could react, swung a short, heavy stick at her, slamming against her head and making Christé fall to the ground unconscious.
The woman kicked her once in the head for good measure, then called up to the cat. “You can come down now.”
The cat easily and agilely jumped down from its perch, and suddenly morphed into Chameleon. He looked at Christé and winced. “She’s gonna have some headache when she wakes up.”
The woman shrugged, and turned into Christé. “Just get her to the Raptor, Chameleon. And don’t screw up. I’ll go ‘unconscious’ here, so they’ll get your teleportation readings, alright?”
Chameleon saluted, and hoisted Christé onto his shoulder. Then he disappeared, and Duçula, with a sigh, settled herself onto the ground in a position that made her look like she’d been smashed over the head. Then she settled down to wait.
***
“I’m worried about Christé,” Wildwing said, frowning. “She promised to be back by 7 and it’s 7:15. She late.”
“She probably fine,” Mallory said, cinching her helmet.
Wildwing shook his head. “She’s turned off her communicator. It was on until about 15 minutes ago.”
Tanya frowned, “that’s not a good thing. Maybe we should look for her.”
“We can’t!” Mallory pointed out. “We’ve got a game!”
Wildwing sighed. “Duke, Nosedive, go look for her. Missie and Rose will fill in for you two. Contact us the second you find her.”
The three nodded, and shifted into their street clothes, and raced out onto the street.
Nosedive frowned, looking for her energy signal. “I can’t find her.”
“Ah, that could jus’ mean she’s unconscious, right?” Duke asked, a little nervously.
The younger duck nodded. “Unfortunately, it, makes her harder to find. We’ll have to look the old fashioned Guardian way.”
“Which is?” Duke asked nervously.
Nosedive grabbed the edge of his t-shirt and pulled it off, stretching to reveal huge, peach coloured wings. He grabbed a hold of Duke’s arms, and grinned. “Keep your eyes peeled.”
He leapt into the air, dragging Duke through the air with them. For a very long time they flew over Anaheim, until Duke, still not comfortable with flying this way, pointed below.
“There! Is that her?”
The Guardian folded his wings to his side and dive bombed toward the ground. Duke slammed his eyes shut, and didn’t open them until they landed lightly on the ground. “Christé!” Nosedive yelled, and raced towards the still girl.
Duke shook his head and reached for his communicator. “Better tell ‘Wing we’ve got her,” he sighed.
***
As Chameleon had expected, Christé awoke with a massive headache. She moaned softly, and opened her eyes to see Seige watching her with a bemused expression. He positively sneered when he saw she was awake.
She didn’t like the sound of that, and her hands, which she discovered were tied in front of her with glowing energy bands, slid up to her neck. She slowly realized with horror that she wore no necklaces, and glanced at the heavy Saurian. He dangled a gold chain with a gold Mask on it from his fingers and laughed. “Looking for this?”
Christé, of course, tried to yell at him, but couldn’t. Without her mask, she was helpless. The mask, once just a fancy ornament, had been modified by Tanya, with a sort of speech machine in it, that the vocal chords damaged by illness could make noise enough to speak.
Seige just laughed louder, and pushed a tray at her. “Ya' may as well eat something before the overlord gets here.”
Christé groaned inwardly. That was just what she needed, a visit from Dragaunus himself. And to make matters wore, she didn’t even have her usual biting sarcasm to depend on.
She glanced down at the tray, and made a face at the reddish soup they’d given her. And to make matters even worse, they’d given her t’pat, the last appetizing Saurian dish in existence. Grumbling, she started to eat, thinking ‘this can’t get any worse…’
***
Just as the buzzer for the end of the period sounded, Wildwing's com beeped. He grabbed a quick gulp of water, then flipped on the communicator. “Yes?”
“We’ve found her Wildwing,” Duke’s face appeared on the screen, looking extremely worried. “Her com’s gone, and so is her puckgun. She’s unconscious, looks like the Saurians hit.”
“And left her there?” Wildwing was surprised. That wasn’t Saurian style. “Can you get her here?”
“Yeah. Nosedive's going to fly her over. I'll walk. Lucky me, I don’t have to fly first class.”
“What d’you mean by that?” Wilding asked.
“Ah-never mind.” Duke said quickly. “See ya there.” Then Duke’s face disappeared off the screen.
***
“So how’s our little prisoner today?”
Christé glowered at the Saurian Overlord, who stood at the entrance to her cell, lazily swinging her necklace back and forth.
“Oh, I suppose you want this, do you?” He held the mask just before her face. Christé said nothing.
“Well, you can have it.” he laughed, and tossed it to her. Startled, Christé caught it, then fumbled to put it around her neck.
The instant it was on, she said, “What’d you do that for?”
He chuckled “What? You want me to take it back? You see, this is a very special cell. It’s a Guardian holding cell. It suppresses your powers- not fully, and not permanently, but enough that Missie wouldn’t be able to teleport, no matter how much energy she expended, Nosedive couldn’t create energy shields, Rose would be no more telepathic than you, and you can’t use your voice for anything but voice, at normal range, and none of you could call up your tcklas.”
Christé groaned. “OK, fun.”
He snickered. “It should be.”
“Of course,” She pointed out.” You realize it’d never work. My team’ll be looking for me. So much for your plan, Lizard Waste.”
Dragaunus gave her a sharp backhand slap. Christé gasped and her hands flew to her cheek to discover blood. “First warning,” he said calmly. “Next time I won’t be so easy to get along with.” He smiled slightly. “Your cousin Duçula is filling in for you. ”
Christé eyes widened. “Why would you ever care about me?” she demanded. “What are you afraid of?!”
“I’m not afraid of anything, duck!” As he said the last word, he slammed his elbow, with a metal spike on it into her stomach.
Now THAT hurt. Christé sucked her breath in, shocked at how much it hurt. Her hands flew to her stomach, gasping as silver blood bubbled out, spilling over her hands.
“Oh. Did I forget to mention that your healing factor is also somewhat compromised?” Dragaunus taunted. “I’ll go away now, let you realize what your really up against." As he left the cell, he turned to the smallest Saurian, who had been hovering by the door. “Fix her up. Chameleon, so she’ll live. I don’t want her dying until her team's here to watch it.”
***
Duçula opened her eyes slowly. It had been difficult, pretending to be out, especially when Tanya’d started sticking needles in her arms. Her aunt’d diffidently be the first to go, she decided.
“Christé, are you alright?” Wildwing asked softly.
Duçula shook her head as if trying to clear it. “Man, what happened?” She asked with a fake groan, one she was quite proud of.
“You were attacked by Saurians, as far as we can tell,” Missie said. How Duçula hated that goody-two shoe. She’d had the chance to be her, but of course, the ‘Miss-up’ chose the noble path.
“I don’t remember, “Duçula lied, trying to look innocent and confused.
Wildwing shook his head. “Your communicator and puckgun were gone, so Tanya’ll get you some new ones. Right now, though, Christé, you’d better get some sleep.”
Duçula sighed, as if she didn’t want to, (which she didn’t), and lay down.
“Sleep tight,” Tanya said softly as she pulled a blanket over her. The team left, turning out the lights on the way out.
Duçula grinned in the darkness. They were buying it!
***
Christé winced as Chameleon put some kind of lotion on the wounds Dragaunus had inflicted. “What is that stuff?”
“Extract of saurian blood flower,” he mummered indistinctly.
“Sheesh, Chammy, why so uptight?” Christé tried to joke as he began to pull bandages out of the first aid kit.
He flushed. “You’re a duck.”
Christé laughed. “Yeah, whatever. But besides that, - Yaah!!” She let out a cry as the bandages Chameleon were putting on hit a particularly tender spot. “Ya' wanna watch where your putting those things?!”
“Sorry,” Chameleon apologized, and proceeded more carefully.
“Wait, wait, wait.” Christé held up her hands. “Did you just say… sorry?!”
Chameleon looked confused, “Yeah,”
Christé looked shocked. “Sheesh, if you hadda been any other Saurian I’ve ever met, I would’ve gotten a sock in the jaw for making a comment like that.”
Chameleon shrugged. “In case you didn’t notice, I’m not much like the other Saurians.”
Christé gingerly touched her raw cheek. “You can say that again.”
***
Missie finally quit slamming the punching bag, pretending it was Siege, and grabbed a towel. She dried her face off, and checked her watch. 5 o’clock in the morning. Still early, and she’d probably be the only one up. Of course, that might be because she hadn’t gone to bed the night before, but that was just trivial detail.
She headed to the kitchen to get some coffee, and nearly fell over when she saw Christé sitting at the table, sipping coffee and reading the sports section. “Sheesh, Christé, what’re you doing up so early?”
Duçula look up, and had to suppress a groan. Just what she needed. “I could say the same for you.” She said, hoping that was something Christé would come up with.
Missie laughed. “Working out? What about you? Couldn’t sleep?’
Duçula nodded around the kitchen as if looking for something, then said, “Hey Christé, haven’t you had breakfast?”
“I’m having it,” she said, holding up the mug of coffee.
“No, I mean your Trix,” Missie insisted, and went to the cupboard to grab the box. “What’s a morning without Trix, right?” She grinned at Duçula. “Want me to toss ya the box?”
Duçula paused. If she said no, she wouldn’t have to eat the sugary, sludgy stuff, but Missie would get suspicious. If she said yes, she’d have to under go the torture of trying to shove down the junk, but Missie would think nothing was wrong. Duçula sighed inwardly and made the only choice she could. “Yeah.”
Missie tossed her the box and as Duçula caught it, she said. “That’s my sis!” she raised an eyebrow as Duçula poured it into a bowl, and her other one shot even higher when she poured milk on it, but she said nothing, only headed for the fridge for her usual breakfast of cold pizza.
***
Christé took it back. T’pat was not the most unappealing Saurian dish in the multiversity. This was.
She made a face as the gray-green glop slopped of her spoon and back into the bowl. “What is this?” she demanded.
Siege grinned. “It’s T’kai. A traditional dish from my area of Sauria.”
Christé sighed and shoved the tray away ‘Guys,’ she thought. ‘You’d better rescue me soon.’
***
“Wildwing, I’m worried about Christé.”
Wildwing looked up at Missie, who learned against the wall beside his door. He sighed, and pulled on a pair of socks. “I’m worried about her too, what with the Saurians attacking her but is that any reason to come in here now?!”
Missie frowned. “Yes. Wildwing, I’m worried about her now. Not only was she awake at 5 o’clock this morning, but she almost didn’t eat her Trix. Wing, have you ever seen her not eat her Trix?!?”
Wildwing paused. “Well there was that game… no, she took them on the plane. Well, that time Dragaunus… no, she ate them when we got back.” He shook his head. “No, I can’t say I have.”
“See, that’s just it!” Missie uncrossed her arms and gestured madly. “She almost didn’t eat any! She wouldn’t have if I hadn’t mentioned it! And get this- she put them in a bowl, and put milk on them!”
Wildwing raised an eyebrow. “The only time I’ve seen her eat them out of something other then the box was in a bread mixing bowl, and she put diet Pepsi on them.”
“Precisely!” Missie said. “I’m worried about her, Wing. That’s just not like her!”
Wildwing sighed and pulled on his boots. “Don’t worry about it, Missie. She’s probably just getting over the Saurian attack.”
Missie sighed. “You’re probably right, Wing. As always. Thanks for listening anyway.”
Wildwing rose and clapped her on the shoulder. “Anytime, Missie.”
***
“Tada!”
Christé looked up to see Chameleon standing at the front of her cell, turned into a huge muscle bound guy. In one hand he held a tray with steaming food, in the other, a television.
“Hey Chammy! What’s with the TV?”
He set it down, and handed her the tray, then turned into himself. “I though you might get bored spending all day here alone. By the way, that food should be better than anything Siege makes. It’s chicken and an Earth recipe.”
Christé tried a piece. “Wow! Chammy, that tastes great! Do you cook much?”
Chameleon shrugged. “Not really.”
Christé dug into the meal. “You really ought to. You’re a great cook. By the way, I think my stomach’s getting better.”
“That reminds me, I’d better change those bandages.” He grabbed the first aid kit, and began to carefully unwrap the bandages around her torso. When he hit the inner layers, he found they were soaked with silver blood. He shot her a sharp look. “Have you been doing any physical activity?”
Christé shrugged. “Working out. I have to keep my edge, and besides, there’s nothing else to do.”
He frowned. “You shouldn’t be doing anything until the wound’s healed over. As it is, I’m going to have to put blood flower extract on it again.”
Christé winced. “That stuff stings. Why do I need it anyway?”
Chameleon dug out the jar it was in and began slathering on the wound. “It helps the wound heal over. It’s common procedure.”
“Maybe I should give Tanya the tip,” Christé joked lightly. “It wouldn’t be so bad.”
He smiled, and began to warp fresh bandages around her stomach. He never noticed it before, but far a duck, she had such beautiful eyes…
“Is something wrong Chammy?” Christé asked
He shook his head. Snap out of it! He ordered himself. She’s a duck. You’re not, “No, nothing.”
Christé smiled. Chameleon was such a scatterbrain sometime, but… it was kinda an endearing trait. Sheesh, even Chameleon was kinda cute… in a repulsive kind of way, of course.
Chameleon finished, securing the last bandages and stood up. “So… what'd you wanna watch?”
Christé was a bit surprised. “You’re hanging around?”
He turn into an amazingly accurate replica of Phil. “Look, babe, it’s my turn at guard duty. You want me to abandon my duties?”
Christé laughed and clapped. “Your brilliant, Chammy! Exactly like Phil?”
He turned into a harried looking professor, “Vil? ‘Do is dis ‘Vill?!”
She giggles. “C’mon, Chammy, let’s find a real tearjerker.’
He turned back into himself. “A what?”
“A tearjerker. They’re my favorite kind of movie. They’ve usually got action, a lot of romance, and quite a bit of tragedy. That’s why they’re tearjerkers, cause you cry.”
Chameleon raised an eyebrow. “You enjoy that?”
“Oh definitely. Here, toss me the ‘mote. I’ll find us a real whammy.”
***
“Hey Christé! We’re watching Titanic! Wanna join us?”
Duçula groaned inwardly as Missie’s voice called from the Ready Room. Why did she always try to include her in all these stupid activities? She hated doing anything with her, because Duçula always expected Missie to suddenly point at her and say, ‘Aha! Duçula!
“C’mon!” Missie called again. “I know it’s your favorite!”
Duçula sighed. Well, if it was Christé’s favorite, and she wanted her disguise to stay intact, she didn’t have much of a choice, did she? “Coming!”
***
“That was beautiful!” Chameleon sniffed, and blew his nose.
Christé smiled wiping tears from her eyes. “That’s why Titanic is my favorite movie.”
Chameleon sat up. Until that moment, his head had been resting on Christé’s shoulder, and she had the sudden insane urge to pull him back again. “Siege’ll be here in a couple minutes for his turn at guard duty,” he told her, gathering up everything he’d come with, but leaving the TV. “He’ll probably want to watch something rated R or so, but that’s Siege.”
She snickered. “Oh, yeah, good ‘ol Siege. I just hope he brings me something edible.”
“Don’t worry, he’ll probably bring you cold chicken or something. But hey – maybe he’ll just let you get some sleep.”
“Sleep? What time is it?”
Chameleon checked his watch. “Uh, about midnight.”
Christé snorted. “Me? Go to sleep this early?”
***
“You? Go to sleep this early?” Missie’s jaw dropped about 5 inches below its usual level.
Duçula began to suspect she’d made a grave mistake, so quickly added, “I think I’m still getting over the Saurians smaching me. I just figured I’d go lie down, not really go to ‘sleep’ or anything.”
Missie looked relieved. “Oh. Okay then.”
Duçula sighed in relief as she headed to Christé’s quarters. That had been a close one.
***
“Here ya go.” Siege shoved a tray at Christé, grabbed the remote and began flipping through channels.
Christé looked at the plate dubiously. It looked like Siege had used the cold chicken, but to make what, she had absolutely no idea. She shoved the unappetizing plate away and sighing, looked at the movie
Maybe, she decided, she’d try to get some sleep after all.
***
Missie paused outside Christé’s room. She’d headed to bed half an hour ago, and Missie was starting to get really worried about her. She knocked on the door.
No response. She tried again. Still no response.
S She paused, then put her thieving and assassin skills to good use and broke the security on Christé’s door. The door slid open to reveal Christé’s darkened room.
The teenager lay asleep on her bed, in an oversized t-shirt, her red and blonde hair tousled and spread everywhere.
Missie frowned. Now she was really worried. She’d never know Christé to go to sleep before 3 even during school.
She slid the door back closed, letting it lock, and headed back to the ready room.
Back in her room, Duçula’s eyes snapped open. Glowing eerily white in the darkness. Missie was getting too close.
***
Siege lumbered to his feet, and brushed past Chameleon, nearly knocking him off his feet. Chameleon glowered at him, then stepped into the cell. “Here, I made you spaghetti. Another Earth recipe.”
Christé shoveled a forkful into her mouth, and closed her eye as she chewed and swallowed, “Chammy, that stuffs even better than Missie’s, and that’s saying something.”
He grinned. “Did you manage to get any sleep?”
“With the way he had it cranked up?’ She snorted. “Fat chance. By the way-that stuff he watched? No one under 100 should be allowed to watch those movies!”
Chameleon laughed. “We could all go in and watch it then!” He grabbed the remote and began flipping through the channels as Christé stuffed her face with Chameleon’s amazing spaghetti.
“Hey, look!” Chameleon cried suddenly. “Voyager’s on!”
Christé looked at the screen as the Star Trek theme filtered through the cell. “You like Voyager?”
Chameleon shrugged. “Yeah.” He glanced at her "Don’t you?”
“Are you kidding?” Christé slid over so she could see the screen better. “Seven of Nine is the coolest thing to happen to television since color.”
“Totally!” Chameleon agreed, turning into a teenager.
They both laughed, flashed each other the Vulcan salute, and giggling, settled down to watch the adventures of the starship Voyager.
***
Rose hit the mute button as Voyageur sailed off into the stars and the credits began to play. “You’ve been awfully quiet tonight, Missie,” She said softly.
Missie ran her fingers through her hair and sighed. “I’m worried about Christé. She doesn’t seem herself lately.”
Candis nodded. “It’s been three days since the Saurians attacked. You’d think she’d be back to normal by now.”
Nosedive spoke up. “And have you noticed she’s been blocking her mind and hasn’t done any wacky pranks like sounding false alarms and making dripping sounds in the middle of the night?”
Rose frowned. “Not to mention her shields look different.’
“Different?” Missie shot her a sharp look. “How so?”
“Well, you know how we can change the style of our shields?”
“Sure,” Missie agreed. “I change mine about three times a day.”
“Well, Christé’s always used to be like a wall of light forming a circle, with her mental signature barley visible inside.” Rose shook her head. “Now it’s like she has a wall, no a dome, of dark storm clouds around herself. I can’t even see her mental signature anymore.”
Nosedive Looked worried. “Is that a bad thing?”
Rose shrugged. “Not really. I mean, I’ve never really been able to find yours or Missie’s but I always figured that was because your connected to Missie and Missie’s got the kind of energy I can't read. I don’t know. It’s probably nothing, but I thought I’d bring it up.”
“Thanks.” Missie smiled grimly. “We’ve got to find out what’s wrong with her.”
***
“Almost done,” Chameleon encouraged, then finally pulled the last bandage off. “There! And will you look at that! All healed up!”
Christé toughed the mark where Dragaunus’s elbow spike had gone into her stomach, then looked up at Chameleon and grimed. “Thanks for fixing me up. Chammy. Too bad this cell keeps away my healing faction or it would’ve healed in 3 days, not 3 weeks.”
Chameleon shrugged. “It was the least I could do.”
“No, it was wonderful of you,” Christé insisted. “Dragaunus told you to just make sure I live. You didn’t have to cook for me, and let me borrow your TV, and take care of my injury so well, and talk to me like you have. You didn’t have to do any of that. Thank you Chammy.”
He fidgeted for a minute. Then his face suddenly lit into a wide grin. “Your welcome.”
***
Duçula was going stir crazy. She could never seem to find anything of importance here, and she should never seem to find any peace. Missie or Candis or Rose or Tanya or someone was always dragging her into something, some activity that Christé probably would’ve loved, but she despised.
Why did she agree to this mission? She couldn’t be any less like her cousin. She groaned and covered her head. “Three months,” she moaned. “Three very long months.”
How many times had she had to fight Dragaunus and the rest of her team members? She’d lost count. And she was thinking that the amount of Trix she’d eaten in the last 3 months was going to do serious damage to her.
She made a decision in an instant, and reached for the Saurian communicator she’d smuggled in and hidden. Time to contact Dragaunus.
***
“Hey, Chammy. Why the long face?”
Chameleon flopped down on the couch he’d managed to get for her, and Christé ran to get him a pop out of her mini-fridge. In the last 3 months she’d been stuck in this prison cell, the cell had begun to get all the comforts of home.
He sighed. “We got a communication from Duçula.”
Christé sat up sharply. “What did she say?”
“She can’t find anything, and they never giver her enough time to destroy the place.”
She relaxed. “Well, that’s good.”
Chameleon sat up and put his head in his hands. “Well, it would be. Except that Dragaunus has decided to lure the ducks here and kill you in front of them.”
Christé's jaw dropped in horror. “No.”
He looked at her sadly. “Yes.”
“NO!” Christé leapt off her chair and stared slamming every thing in sight, throwing dishes and pop cans, slamming her fists into the walls, even kicking the gates use lessly in fury. “Ahh! Ugh! No! No! No! No! No!”
“Christé!” Chameleon leapt up off his seat and seized her wrists. “Christé! Calm down!”
Her faced contorted, and she began to sob. “You have to help me,” she begged, sliding down to her knees so that they were about the same height. “Please, Chameleon, please help me.”
Chameleon looked around quickly, then whispered, “I’m going to, but you’ve got to be quit, please. I’ve got a plan, but it won’t work if you won’t let me tell you it.”
Christé nodded, and blinked backed her tears.
“What we do,” Chameleon said softly, “Is I turn into you and turn you into me. Then you have to hit me over the head and escape.’
Christé’s face fell. “Chammy, that’ll never work. I can’t shape shift, remember? ”
Chameleon shook his head and held his hand up to her beak. “No, shh. Listen, I have the ability to transform people other then myself. IT takes a lot of energy and leaves me weak, so I hardly ever do it, but…” He paused. “That’s the only way to get you out. Now hold still.”
Christé held her breathe, and closed her eyes tightly. Chameleon placed a hand on each of her cheeks, and his eyelids flickered, as though great amount of energy were leaving him. The green light that normally surrounds him during his transformations surrounded them both, and when it subsided, it simply looked like Christé and Chameleon had exchanged places.
Christé opened her eyes to find herself staring at…herself. She shuddered lightly, then looked at her hands in wonderment. Then she looked up and grinned. “Amazing job!”
He, or she, as he looked, smiled slightly, then said, “The entrance code is I4JAQ. Now take this,” Chameleon handed her a lead pipe. “and hit me over the head. Hard enough to knock me out.”
Christé, or Chameleon, looked horrified. “I can’t do that!”
He set his jaw. “You can, and you have to. DO it.”
“But, I, I can’t transform back!” Christé felt like she was grabbing at shadows in the dark, trying desperately to find a reason why not to hit him over the head. Not because he looked like her but because well…she’d gotten to like Chameleon these last three months. He’d been her only friend.
Chameleon sighed. “Just concentrate on yourself, and you’ll turn back. Now hurry!”
Christé bit her lip, then suddenly leaned forward, grabbed Chameleon and kissed him fiercely. His eyes widened in shock and that was the expression he still had when the pipe connected with his head.
***
“There’s the site of the energy surge!” Tanya said as they pulled up beside an old warehouse in the Migrator.
Missie glanced at Christé, and scowled at the gleam in her eyes as she reached for her puckgun. Then she acted on a gut instinct. “Christé maybe you should...“
She was cut off as the door to the Migrator slid open, and in the doorway stood…Christé?
***
Duçula gasped. It appeared that the game was up.
***
Christé grinned with relief. She was filthy, her hair hadn’t been washed for 3months, she was aching, her face was tearstained, her knuckles ached from slamming them into the wall, and she’d just narrowly escaped from the Raptor disguised as the only companion she’d had for 3 months.
But she was here, with her teammates. And at that moment, she couldn’t even care less that Duçula was sitting there, disguised as her.
“Hi guys,” she said as cheerfully as she could manage. “Miss me?”
***
Chameleon was woken with a sharp, clawed slap across his face. He cracked open his eyes, (which, as he recalled, were emerald, and quit beautiful) and found himself staring up at Lord Dragaunus.
Dragaunus apparently had a hold of his shoulders, and shook him sharply when he saw he was awake. “Where is Chameleon, duck!?”
Chameleon’s tongue felt like lead, and when he spoke, his words were slurred. “Oh, hello boss.”
“You!” Dragaunus roared, and dropped him.
Chameleon fell back, his head hitting the floor with a loud crack. He turned back into himself, and rubbing his head, whined petulantly, “Hey, boss, what’d ya do that for?”
“You fool!” He thundered. “You let the duck get away! This was to be my moment of glory, the highpoint in this fight against the ducks! I was going to destroy one of their precious Guardians! And now they’ll be here any minute!”
“Wrong, Draggy.” The voice came from behind them, full of menace and absolute rage. “We’re right here.”
The Saurians spun to see the entire Mighty Ducks team behind them, weapons of varying size and intently drawn and aimed.
Right in front stood Missie and Wildwing, each with a heavy hand on one of Duçula’s shoulders. She’d been turned back into herself, and she was glowering at everyone in sight.
Then Christé emerged, tired looking, yet smug. “Sorry I left such a mess, Draggy. I would’ve cleaned up, but I was in a hurry.”
She smirked. “I just might never have known when the shape-shifter would wake up.” She looked absolutely furious when she mentioned him, and Chameleon nodded his head barely perceptibly. If they wanted to make this work, she’d have to pretend she still hated him. “ And by the way, Dragaunus? I’d suggest hiring some new help. You’re’s is solely lacking.”
At that, Wildwing and Missie shoved Duçula back in, and Missie said, “If you even consider doing that again, Dragaunus? I will personally march in here, rip your head off, and stuff it for a wall plague. Understand?”
Dragaunus snarled, but she just snarled back, then Wildwing gestured, and the entire team ran out.
***
“Me think you need a shower, Christé,” Candis laughed pointing at her greasy rat’s neat.
“How’d you get out?” Missie demanded, having asked that question of her for the last half-hour and having gotten no answers.
Christé shrugged and for the millionth time, repeated, “I had help.”
“From who?!” Missie persisted.
“From a really good friend who will remain unnamed, alright?” That was the most accurate answer she’d given yet. “I’m just glad to be back.”
“Yeah,” Christé said suddenly. “And you know what I really want? It’s a food the Saurians didn’t have and I’ve been dying to eat for the last three months. It’s-”
Missie and Wildwing interrupted her, and simultaneously, they laughed. “Trix!”
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