Video Vignettes - Duckblur: The Fatal Fantasy

Video Vignettes are 500 to 1000 word short stories about one or more video games. "Duckblur: The Fatal Fantasy" features elements from "Ducktales Remastered” and “Final Fantasy IV.”

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The billionaire carefully climbed down the otherworldly metallic rope, one hand wrapped around it, the other cradling the fabled Golden Mirror of The Moon. Near the bottom, he leaned back and forth, gaining some momentum before letting go. He sailed gracefully over the bottomless pit below him and hit the lunar surface with a plop, as there is definitely normal gravity on the Moon.

“Bless me bagpipes!” he exclaimed, staring down the chasm and taking a deep breath of fresh Moon air. “I need to be a wee bit more careful!” He gave a quick glance back at the strange space craft he had just ransacked and stuffed the artifact in his jacket.

He charged forward, leaping over massive craters and fending off tiny, octopus-like alien creatures with nothing but his cane and his wits. Before long, he arrived at what seemed to be a dead end.

“Curse me kilts!” he exclaimed, examining the obstruction. The billionaire lifted his black top hat and wiped the sweat off his brow. “How will I ever ge’ th’ legendary Green Moon Cheese?” 

But his frown quickly bent into a smile. Digging around in his pocket, he produced a small remote control. Pressing the button, he bellowed, “Now Gizmo Duck can blast that wall!”

The hulking mechanical man showed up dutifully mere seconds after he was summoned and did the billionaire’s bidding.

The Moon dust hadn’t yet settled before the billionaire lowered himself into the cave below. He didn’t know where Gizmo Duck would go now, trapped millions of miles away from his family, friends, and everything he’s ever known. But frankly, he didn’t care. All that mattered was padding his Money Bin with millions of dollars, preferably in gold coins or in comically large sacks marked with dollar signs.

A chorus of small voices snapped him out of his money-based trance. “Uncle Scrooge! Uncle Scrooge!”

“Jeopardize me Jameson!” he exclaimed. There before him were his young nephews, Huey, Dewey, and Louie!

“Boys, how did ya get here?” he asked.

“Guess what? This house has an illusion wall!” explained Huey. Or was it Dewey?

“Wha?”

“You’ll need a key to get in. It’s in Transylvania,” noted Louie. Or whoever the one in blue is, I don’t know.

“Never mind,” the billionaire said. “It’s nae important. The Green Moon Cheese is just up ahead, but the treasure is protected by a dangerous Moon Rat.”

“Uncle Scrooge! Use your cane to defeat the treasure keepers!” said the idiot in green.

“Aye,” he replied, nodding his head slowly. Concentration washed over the old duck’s face as he pushed open the door to the Moon Rat’s chamber, ready for battle. But instead of a rancorous rodent, standing before the duck gang were two silver-haired men. One was dressed entirely in white, with a glimmering gold crown that made the billionaire’s heart flutter just looking at it. The other’s long beard blew heroically in the underground Moon breeze.

Moon Rat or not, it didn’t matter to the billionaire: Those men were standing between him and his million dollar cheese. He pushed his top hat forward, screwed up his brow, and stomped into the room.

“I made me fortune by being tougher than the toughies and smarter than the smarties! You’re not getting me Moon Cheese and you’re certainly not getting me Number One Dime!”

The billionaire unsheathed a long, thin sword that had been hidden in his cane. His nephews gasped.

“Stay you blade!” exclaimed the man with the crown. “We mean you no harm. I am Paladin Cecil, and this is Lunarian FuSoYa, wielder of powerful magic, light armor, and terribly underpowered staves. Judging by your accident, you must be of dwarven origins. Lali ho, friend!”

“Hump me haggis!” exclaimed the billionaire. “Go away or there’ll be trouble!”

“Defiantly dwarven,” muttered FoSoYa.

“Should we wait to act until Kain arrives?” Cecil asked. “Wait, is he on our side or is he evil right now? I can never remember, Uncle.”

“I told you not to call me Uncle,” FoSoYa grumbled.

The billionaire had had enough. “Oh, I wouldnae worry about your friend. I’d be more worried about meself,” he said, launching the cane-sword through Cecil’s inexplicably unarmored chest. Cecil fell to his knees, clutching the fatal wound.

He slumped onto the ground. “I am slain!” he exclaimed. 

“Good luck with that,” said FuSoYa, who was already walking back to his sweet lunar pad/space whale to watch “The Price is Right” on his awesome big screen Moon TV.  

The billionaire cuddled the Moon Cheese like a newborn child while the red puddle around Cecil got larger and larger.

“Quackarooney! I… I think you might have killed him, Uncle Scrooge,” said HuDewLouie.

“Right lads! And I couldn’t have done it without you. I really am the richest duck in the world!”

THE END