Haruka's Fanfiction

*Note* Contains spanking. For the benefit of those who don't know the history, the Mighty Ducks originated from a planet called Puckworld in another dimension. Before Nosedive turns 16, the planet is invaded by the Saurians, led by the evil overlord Dragaunus. Wildwing's friend Canard leads the Resistance, bringing the Mighty Ducks together (Nosedive only gets to join on Wildwing's insistence.) Canard sacrifices himself to save the team members in battle, and they follow Dragaunus through a dimensional porthole that lands both sides in Anaheim on modern day Earth.

It should be noted that on Puckworld, it’s winter year round and _everyone_ grows up knowing how to skate and play hockey.

This story takes place before Duke loses his right eye and begins wearing an eyepatch.


The Mighty Ducks (animated series) – Childhood Mistakes: Duke (age 17)

By Haruka (haruka@ymail.com)

--

“This way, Mr. L’Orange.”

Duke looked up. His father was here? He thought the old man would let him sit in the jail cell for at least another two hours.

The police officer came into view with a burly, grey-feathered duck. Mr. L’Orange spotted his son amongst the other gang members in the cell and focused on him while the cop unlocked the door. Duke watched his father push past the cop to reach in and seize his wing, hauling him out of the cell. He’d seen his father angry before, but his expression now was frightening. I’m a dead duck, he thought.

“This is the last straw, Duke,” his father told him in a voice he barely recognized. “When I get you home, I’m going to whale you so hard the pin feathers won’t even grow back during your _next_ life. Come on.”

--

It had all seemed very simple at the time. Duke had discovered at a tender age that he had a talent for shoplifting. First small packets of gum or candy, then toys that would fit in a pocket, later on came music disks and the odd pack of cigarettes. But at seventeen, he was starting to think bigger.

Especially after the school field trip to the museum, during the special exhibit of jewels from around the world.

“What do you think, L’Orange?” Falcone elbowed him as they stood in front of the display case. Under the glass were priceless gems from India, twinkling and gleaming under the lights. It was almost hypnotic, the way they glimmered.

“They’re nice,” Duke replied, not willing to let Falcone know just how fascinated he was with the jewels.

“Nice? They’re worth a fortune! Didn’t you hear the guide?” Falcone grinned slyly. “Something like this would sure beat swiping hubcaps, huh?”

Duke looked at the other boy as if he was crazy. And knowing Falcone, it might just be true. Ever since Falcone had joined Duke’s gang of juvenile thieves that he called The Brotherhood of the Blade, he’d been pushing him to prove his leadership over and over. So far, the other boys still followed Duke’s lead, but he wasn’t kidding himself. Falcone wanted his position in the gang, and would do anything to get it.

“You wanna rob the museum, Falcone?” Duke challenged. “Go right ahead. They’ll catch ya before you’ve gone two feet from the case.”

“Nahhh.” Falcone waved a hand. “I’m not talking about robbing those jewels – you’re right about security here.” He threw a wing over Duke’s shoulders. “I’m talking about the Spoonbill Estate,” he whispered.

Duke considered this. The Spoonbills were the richest family in town, and everywhere Mr. And Mrs. Spoonbill went, they were adorned in expensive jewelry – rings, necklaces, bracelets, stickpins, cufflinks … really beautiful stuff.

“How about it?” Falcone prodded. “Are you game?”

“Could be,” Duke said non-committally. “I’ll t’ink about it.”

“Don’t think too long or I might beat you to it,” Falcone taunted, and walked away laughing.

Duke’s eyes narrowed as he watched the other boy leave. He’d be damned if he’d let that jerk show him up in front of the gang by pulling off a genuine jewel heist before him. No way would he let that happen.

Especially not when he had an advantage that Falcone didn’t know about.

--

“Hey, Pop,” Duke said as he entered his father’s den after school.

Mr. L’Orange looked up from the legal briefs he was working on to regard his son suspiciously. “What do you want, Duke? It better not be another note from your Principal for me to sign.”

“Nah, don’t worry. I tol’ you last time that would never happen again.”

“Hmmph. Yes, I would think your tail feathers would make that decision for you after what happened later.”

Duke cleared his throat. It wasn’t exactly a memory he cherished. “Yeah, well, uh, what I wanted to talk to you about was if I could go along with ya when ya go to your client meetin’ tonight.”

“Why would you want to do that?” his father asked in confusion. “You’re not interested in the law, and this meeting is only concerning a civil case, nothing exciting.”

Well …,” Duke ran his fingers through his fluff of long hair, “it’s a school thing where we’re supposed to report on our parents’ jobs. I kinda put it off for a while and now it’s due tomorrow.”

“That’s just great,” Mr. L’Orange said sternly. “If you hadn’t put off your assignment I could have taken you into court and let you report on something a little more interesting than the Spoonbills’ lawsuit.”

“I’ll find a way to dress it up,” Duke said confidently. “So, can I go?”

“You know you can’t use their real names in your report.”

“Yeah, Pop, I know,” Duke tried not to sound impatient. “Can I tag along then? I’ll stay outta the way and be quiet, I promise.”

Mr. L’Orange thought seriously for a few moments, then nodded. “All right, Duke. Your grades are bad enough that not doing this assignment would probably finish you at school. But if you don’t behave yourself tonight, I’ll tan your backside so that you’ll be standing up to eat in the cafeteria tomorrow.”

“Understood,” Duke said. All too well, he added with a wince. He quickly left the den and went upstairs to get a few things together for the self-assignment his father _didn’t_ know about.

--

“Please come in, Mr. L’Orange. Mr. Spoonbill is expecting you.” The butler gave Duke a slightly inquiring look as he passed, following his father in the door.

They were led to the parlour, where Duke’s father introduced him to the Spoonbills and explained about his project for school. They were very understanding and allowed him to sit nearby while the adults went over the facts of their civil lawsuit.

Duke pretended to pay attention, but in reality, his eyes were taking in every piece of jewelry the Spoonbills wore, not the least of which was a huge diamond ring adorning Mrs. Spoonbill’s hand. He wondered if she took it off for bed.

He didn’t look around the room too much, since his father would notice and get on his case later. He was biding his time until he could put his plan into action.

Finally, after about an hour, Duke cleared his throat. “Would it be all right if I used your bathroom?”

“Certainly,” Mr. Spoonbill said. “It’s at the end of the hall.”

“T’ank you,” Duke said politely and headed in that direction.

No one was in the hallway, but he knew that didn’t mean servants weren’t nearby. He walked slowly, taking note of what rooms were along the route and considering how best to proceed.

As the first order of business, he actually went into the bathroom and shut the door, so no one would be suspicious. He checked the window and found it latched, a fact he quickly changed. Then he opened it barely a crack and slipped a Popsicle stick under it so it wouldn’t fall back down. He closed the curtains back over it.

He hadn’t been sure that the bathroom would have a window, so this turned out to be good luck for him. At least this way he wouldn’t have to poke around in any other rooms and risk getting caught.

Duke returned to the parlour and took his seat once more, preparing for another long session of boring legal talk as he planned his return later that night.

--

It wasn’t hard sneaking out of his own house. His father slept like a log, and he hadn’t had a mother since he was ten. So by midnight, he was already sidling up to the Spoonbills’ house.

Their security system was laughable. Duke took out the control panel at the front gate with a well-aimed throwing knife. The two Dobermans were a little more of a problem, but not for long. Some raw meat stuffed with sedatives took them down in a few minutes.

Duke found the window that still had his Popsicle stick protruding from under it. He pushed it up and pulled himself in, grateful that he was relatively small and lean despite his father being such a big muscular man.

Even the servants seemed to have gone to bed by that time, which is what Duke had hoped for. He crept down the hall to the stairs and slipped silently up.

So this is what it feels like to be a cat burglar, Duke thought. The romance of it all appealed to him, especially when he thought about the jewels. His palms itched to hold those glittering gems, at least for as long as it would take to pawn them.

It wasn’t hard to pick the Spoonbills bedroom out from all the other closed doors in the upper hallway. Theirs had to be the one behind the huge oak double doors. Duke pushed one open cautiously.

Oh perfect, they had a sitting room between the door and the bedroom. That was fine, especially as he could see a big jewelry box sitting on a display table under an ornate mirror. He crept over to it and opened the lid. His eyes widened at the site of the jewelry. It was all there, the rings, the cuff links, the bracelets – and more.

Duke didn’t waste anymore time – he began loading his pouch. He glanced around the room, wondering if they had a safe with even bigger jewels in it. Not that he knew how to crack a safe yet – but it was a skill he planned on acquiring.

Then the phone rang.

Duke spun around and stared at the phone on the table behind him. Who would be calling the Spoonbills at midnight?! He heard movement in the bedroom just off the sitting room.

There was no time to use any finesse – Duke ran. He was light on his feet, but the sound of his hurried escape seemed deafening to him.

Just as he ran for the bathroom door to get out through the same means he got in, someone grabbed his shoulder. He looked up at the stern visage of the butler.

“You’re going the wrong way,” the man said.

--

Now he was riding home alongside his furious father after they’d both left the police station.

“I just can’t understand it!” Mr. L’Orange said for the tenth time. “How could you _do_ something like that?! Burglary! And you manipulated _me_ so that you could rob my clients! Or should I say, my former clients! Yes, they’ve let me go as their lawyer, of _course_ they have! As their lawyer, I’d be obligated to help them prosecute YOU! I’ll be lucky if my law firm doesn’t drop me for losing their biggest clients! Imagine, a lawyer having a son who commits a felony!”

Duke was glad his father wasn’t giving him a chance to open his mouth. He had nothing constructive to say, anyway, and attempting any kind of excuse would make things worse. And things were already bad enough.

The Spoonbills were pressing charges. Duke was out on bail, but soon he’d be seeing the inside of a courtroom, just as his father described earlier. After that, he might be going to juvenile hall IF he was lucky. If he wasn’t, they’d try him as an adult, and then Duke would be the new playtoy of those residing at the municipal prison.

He barely registered their arrival at the house until his father hauled him out of the car and shoved him in the front door. Pictures on the entryway wall of he and his father and even his mother in happier times seemed surreal. His father teaching him how to skate at two, his mother acting as goalie as he took his first shot on-net at three, the family at Christmas. His parents had never known about his early secret stealing games or more recently, The Brotherhood of the Blade. No wonder his father said he couldn’t understand – how could he? He knew Duke got into trouble at school, but criminal activity? Not his son.

I’m sorry, Pop, he thought earnestly.

Mr. L’Orange slammed the door behind him and was about to say something when the phone rang. He frowned at it – it was nearly three o’clock in the morning. Figuring it might be the police, he picked it up. “Hello? … Huh?” He glanced at Duke. “Yeah, just a second.” He held out the receiver. “It’s for you,” he growled.

What the hell?! Duke took the receiver. “Yeah?” he asked.

“Hello, Duke,” drawled Falcone’s annoying voice. “Did you have fun in jail?”

Duke gripped the receiver tightly. “What do you know about it?” he demanded.

“Who do you think placed that timely call to the Spoonbills to inform them that they were in imminent danger of being robbed?” Falcone laughed. “You are _so_ predictable, L’Orange. I watched from outside the gate. You almost made it, and for that, I salute you. Don’t worry, buddy, I’ll be taking care of the Brotherhood while you’re bending over for the cons.”

“Like hell you will, you son of a --!” Duke yelled, then slammed the receiver down. Falcone had hung up on him.

“What was that about?” his father asked tightly.

“Nothin’,” Duke replied. Falcone was _his_ problem, not his father’s.

“Come on.” Mr. L’Orange seized his son’s arm and propelled him into the living room where he began taking off his belt. Duke felt a chill go through him. His father had never hesitated to use the belt on him when he deserved it before, so he knew more or less what to expect. However, this time, he had a feeling no matter how bad he imagined it would be, he’d be underestimating.

“I don’t know where I went wrong with you, Duke,” his father said as he doubled the belt in his fist. “Ever since your mother died, your behavior has gone downhill and Lord knows I’ve tried, but tonight proves you just don’t care. You don’t care about me or about being a decent citizen. I may not be able to change that now – you may be too far gone. But at least I’ll know I gave it one last try to turn you around. Get undressed.”

Duke didn’t argue. He knew it wouldn’t help. He also knew that when his father said ‘undressed’, he meant completely. Not that it would take long, considering the one-piece bodysuit he’d fixed especially for his first outing as a burglar. He unfastened it and stepped out, pushing it aside with his foot. Then he went to the couch and braced his hands against the back of it, bending over.

Mr. L’Orange wasted no time. *CRACK!* The belt came down brutally against Duke’s backside. The seventeen-year-old gasped. His father was using a lot more force than usual.

*CRACK!* *CRACK!* “… disgracing the family name! ….” *CRACK!* *CRACK!* “… ruining my reputation! ….” *CRACK! CRACK!* “… no future for felons! ….” *CRACK CRACK!*

Duke was yelling out loud with every lash of the belt now, and only hearing part of what his father was saying. Pain exploded on his buttocks, thighs, and back. Feathers broke and flew. He knew he was sobbing and didn’t care. The pain, his father’s disappointment, his fear of going to prison – it was all tied together in the outcries he made as the belt connected with his feathered hide again and again with even, powerful strokes.

It was only a few minutes, but by the time it was over, it felt like hours to Duke. He was crying so hard he could barely breathe. He’d lost the ability to stand somewhere along the line and was on his hands and knees on the carpet. Grey feathers littered the floor around him and he wondered vaguely if there were any left on his body at all.

He heard his father approach and shrank back, brushing against the sofa. “AHHH!” he cried, and collapsed to the ground, keening into the carpet. A hand hooked under his armpit and hauled him to his feet. Then he saw that his father had tears on his cheeks.

“I love you, Duke,” he told him. “God knows, I do. I’ll do my best to keep you out of jail, but you’re guilty and everyone involved knows it. It may be useless. But if a miracle happens and you go free, I’m sending you to military school. It’s all I can think of that might still straighten you out.” He kissed his son and walked wearily out of the room and up the stairs to bed.

Duke brushed tears from his eyes and off his face. I’m sorry, Pop, he thought. It _is_ too late for me. I ain’t goin’ to jail and I ain’t goin’ to no military school – neither one is gonna help me. Nothin’ can make me what you want, and if I stay here, I’ll only hurt you and cause you more trouble.

Slowly, painfully, Duke pulled on his bodysuit. The Brotherhood of the Blade had a secret hideout. He would live there -- a fugitive from the law. His first heist had been a failure thanks to Falcone, but next time he would succeed. He would practice his art of thieving, specializing in the jewels that so attracted him. Houses, stores, museums – none would be safe from Duke L’Orange. The Brotherhood would thrive under his leadership. As for Falcone – he would lull him into a false sense of security before he paid him back in spades.

Duke finished dressing and left his childhood home without looking back.

--

(2002)

Disclaimer: The Mighty Ducks characters belong to Disney.

This fic is not to be re-posted.