Part Two: Megavolt

Chapter Two

After the last class of the day, Ham made his way toward Preena's locker in the hopes of catching her before she left. He had been waiting and working up the nerve all day for the opportunity to ask her to the prom. He was glad to find her by herself, with none of her girl friends around to witness, just in case she shot him down. He was still gun-shy from Samantha Fennix's public rejection, although in retrospect he had convinced himself that he did not really like her anyway, so it was no big deal.

"Hi, Preena," he said as he approached, and she turned around and greeted him with a friendly smile.

"Hi, Ham."

"Hey, uh…" Ham tried to quell his anxiousness while Preena waited in silence for him to finish whatever it was that he was going to say. "I was wondering… well, um, I was wondering if you'd like to go to the prom with me." He finally got it out in a fast rush, and then followed it with a nervous and hopeful smile.

At first she just blinked in surprise, and then a conciliatory smile formed on her lips. "Oh, wow. I…" She hesitated, choosing her words carefully so as to not offend him. "That's really nice of you to ask, but someone already asked me."

Ham's heart sank. "Oh. Sorry. I didn't know."

"That's okay," Preena said as she closed her locker. "I'm still flattered."

Ham summoned the most casual tone he could manage while he did his best to not let on just how disappointed he was. "So, ah, who're you going with?"

"Elmo, actually." Preena brightened as she said his name, which made Ham feel a surge of resentment toward his friend.

Why is he getting all the breaks with her? He said he didn't even want to go!

Preena noticed Ham's expression, and not fully understanding the reason for it, offered him a sympathetic smile. "Hey, you know, I don't think anyone's asked Pansy yet." Pansy Patterson was a friend of Preena's that Ham was acquainted with, although the two did not know one another well. Unfortunately Preena's misguided attempt to make Ham feel better wound up making him feel worse, and he turned around, wanting to get away before things could get any more awkward.

"It's ok. Don't worry about it. See ya later."

"Ok," Preena said softly. Ham could feel her gaze linger on him for a moment before she turned and left, and it made him feel even more conspicuous. He quickened his pace in the opposite direction, but no sooner did he turn the corner than he ran into the sneering form of Drake Mallard, who gesticulated a rude crash-and-burn noise.

"Awww, poor Ham Bone, rejected in favor of Egghead Sputter-freak. That's really gotta hurt." Drake laughed viciously, while Ham scowled and balled his hand into a fist.

"Shut your beak, Mallard, before I tweak it again for you."

"I'd like to see you try." Drake tensed in anticipation of a scuffle. "The only reason you got a hold of me in study hall is because I didn't think you had the balls to try anything like that in class, Porky. It won't happen again." A cold smirk crossed his bill. "By the way, I hope you weren't planning on driving home. Your tires had an unfortunate accident… just like your good girlfriend-filching buddy Elmo's."

Hearing that Drake had slashed his tires was the bitter icing on the already miserable cake that was his afternoon, and Ham's arm twitched with unspent anger as he regarded Drake. "You asshole!"

"Ah, ah, ah, you wouldn't want to get suspended for having another fight on campus, would you?" Drake mocked him. "I'm a bit of a pro at the principal and his rules about that stuff, you know."

"That's because everyone in this school hates your guts and wants to beat you into the pavement!"

Unimpressed, Drake chortled. "Not everyone. Otherwise I wouldn't be going to the prom with Loretta Featherston while you're going with—oh wait, you're not going. Because Sputter-geek's going with your girl because he somehow managed to be less pathetic than you." He sneered sarcastically. "Although I'll admit it's not by much."

"I swear, Mallard, if you don't shut up—"

"You'll sit on me?" he scoffed. "Why don't you sit on this instead?" Drake pulled out his hunting knife and pointed it at Ham, which made him reconsider his impulse to grab the smirking mallard. Drake let out a cruel chuckle as Ham backed down, and he savored it for a moment before delivering his parting barb. "See you later, loser. Enjoy your dork's night out while everyone else is at the prom."

A few halls away, Elmo was staying late after school to work on his science project in the school's lab. Although he typically aced his classes and did not really need to go that extra mile to ensure getting a good grade, he was rather enthusiastic about the project, and the school lab afforded him the best equipment and space to work on it uninterrupted. The premise was innovative—a way to harness the power of static electricity and put it to productive use. When Elmo had told his teacher about the idea and showed him his notes, he had encouraged Elmo to work on it and offered him the use of the lab to set up the treadmill and shag rug apparatus that Elmo proposed as the way to generate the static he needed. His initial notion of using a robot to rub a balloon against said rug was too complicated and expensive to rig up, especially in light of the fact that Elmo's attempts at testing that setup at home had just resulted in a lot of broken balloons and his mother complaining about the noise.

Thus far Elmo's project had been successful. He had been able to illuminate the light bulb rigged up to the treadmill on the last several runs, and he had even gotten the bulb to glow at its full capacity last time. The downside of the project, however, was that his static generator was not exempt from one of the most basic rules of science, which was that one could not get energy out without putting energy in. Since the science labs did not have a robot available to do the running for him, someone had to play lab rat and power the treadmill, and that someone was Elmo himself. As someone who did not even like gym class, having to run the equivalent of a track team practice for science was his least favorite part of it, especially since he had to keep pushing aside papers that the static charge around his body drew toward him like a magnet.

That was what he was still doing when the door swung open and an angry-looking Ham came in. Elmo was not even able to get out a word of greeting before Ham was in front of him at the treadmill, glowering in his face. "Thanks for nothing, 'pal'!"

"Whoa, what are you talking about?" the surprised Elmo gasped between breaths. "What's wrong?"

"What's wrong?" Ham stared back at him incredulously. "You asked Preena to the prom and have the balls to act like it's no big deal? You knew I like her."

Elmo blinked, taken aback, and swatted aside one of the papers that came floating toward his face. "Huh? No I didn't—"

"Just shut up! I don't want to hear it. If you were gonna ask her, you should've told me, but no! I guess you thought it was funny to see me make an idiot out of myself again. Maybe you should've asked Samantha instead, sounds like she's more your type." Ham's expression darkened. "Some friend you turned out to be. I knew you had a crazy sense of humor, but I didn't think you'd screw over a buddy like that."

Despite being short of breath from running and under assault from flying paper, Elmo managed to get out a few words in his defense before Ham grabbed a roll of duct tape that was on a nearby bench. "Hey, I'm sorry, Ham. I really didn't know you liked her. It's just a dance—"

"Forget it!" Ham snapped. He pulled out a long piece of tape and before Elmo realized what he was doing or could say anything, he wrapped it across his hands on the treadmill bar and wound it tight. "Better keep up the workout, Elmo. You'll need to be in good shape for all that dancing," Ham said on a sarcastic note as he finished taping Elmo's hands down. He pressed the treadmill's "speed up" button a couple of notches and then stormed out without saying another word.

Elmo was too busy trying to get his hands free while maintaining his run to come up with any kind of response, although he was insulted that Ham thought he was after Preena when he had only asked her to the prom because it seemed like a good idea at the time. Had he known that Ham was interested in her, he never would have asked. He could not worry about that too much at the moment, though, because the more pressing matter of being taped to his treadmill was far more urgent. Getting free of the tape would be harder than he thought, as Ham had not realized his own strength when he taped his hands down. Elmo tugged harder and ran faster, muttering four letter words between ragged breaths, and he hoped that his sweat would wear down the tape's adhesive before he passed out. As the minutes ticked by he could feel his heart thumping at an unusually fast pace, and his vision began to cloud while he grew lightheaded.

I'm not in the right kind of shape for this, Elmo thought miserably. He hoped he would be able to get out before he suffered any bodily harm. He jerked his arms urgently, still maintaining his run as best as he could, but it was not enough to work his hands free. Elmo could see the light bulb connected to the treadmill glowing brighter, seemingly more so than the wattage it was made for, and even more stray papers were flying at him from farther away than before. Where are these coming from anyway? I didn't even think there was that much out in here!

He kept on running, short of breath and trying to ignore the painful stitch that had formed in his side. Elmo knew he was close to his breaking point and that he would not hold out much longer. Eventually he gave up trying to shake off the papers attracted to him, and as he felt himself flagging he just hoped that he would not break or dislocate anything when he finally did collapse. Fortunately it never came to that, however, for Elmo's ingenious setup turned out to work better than he ever intended. All of a sudden the static energy he had harnessed reached the point of overload. Elmo was on the verge of passing out when the room seemed to swim around him, and he felt a strange tingling sensation all over his body. He could not see anything, but there was an aura of electrical energy surrounding him and he felt it building and growing with each passing second until it reached a critical point and blew like an overloaded fuse. It happened with enough force to fry the adhesive binding his skin to the tape, and Elmo flew backwards off of the treadmill and slammed against the wall.

He was so out of it that he felt no pain from the impact, and he lay there stunned for a moment as he tried to figure out what had happened. His heart was still pounding, but once he realized he could move, Elmo breathed a sigh of relief. He looked over at the treadmill, which had ground to a halt and was smoking. Oddly, his first concern was for his science project and the fact that it would take some fixing to get it working again. "Thanks a lot, Ham," he muttered, only then remembering the reason Ham had done it, and the argument they had had. Elmo winced as he stood, and decided that he would deal with Ham first and tinker with the treadmill later. It was probably not the best idea to mess with it while it was charged up, anyway, he figured, and he reached for the door only to be surprised with a shock that felt like he had grabbed a live wire.

Elmo blinked a few times as he recovered and took a deep breath, feeling like his hair was standing on end. He moved cautiously at first, and then touched his head only to find that it was standing on end, or something close to it at any rate. A quick glance in the glass of the door that showed a ghost of his reflection confirmed that, and he grimaced when he saw the rather unflattering afro-like style. All he needed was for someone like Drake Mallard to walk by and see that, and he would be the butt of every joke in school for the rest of the year. Oh yeah, thanks a lot, Ham.

He took out his frustration on the doorknob that had given him the shock. "Good for nothing no-goodnik doorknob!" But when he extended his hand toward it, something very unexpected happened—a bolt of electrical energy shot from his fingertips.

Wait, what?

Elmo stared at his hands in shock. Had he done that?

With a curious frown, he pointed his finger at a nearby stool using the same motion he had at the door. To his surprise and amazement, the same thing happened, and a brilliant burst of electricity surged forth and singed the stool.

"Incredible!" Elmo exclaimed, his eyes alit with delight. "I've got the ability to channel energy through my own physiology. It's like… it's like I'm in a really good sci-fi movie. Or a comic book!" He grinned and then added, "Or a really good sci-fi comic book, even!"

His anger at Ham and the smoking science project was temporarily forgotten, and Elmo proceeded to zap different things at random from different poses and angles, testing the limits and applications of his newfound ability. "I could do so much with this," he said with rising excitement. "I could singlehandedly save the city from an energy crisis. I could light up an entire room without even having to flip a switch."

His gaze fell upon the light bulb that was screwed into the box attached to the treadmill, amazingly still intact although no it was longer aglow. He went over and unscrewed it, and then channeled a bit of his energy into it, making it light up. "I can make you run without even having to be in a lamp. Without having to draw energy of your own to work." He gave it an oddly sympathetic look. "That must be depressing, to exist only for others to use you for what you can do for them."

The thought led Elmo to think of something else. "Yes, you're right," he said, talking as though the light bulb itself had given him the notion. "Others might think of me that way now, too. Thanks. We'll have to stick up for each other and watch our backs, huh?" He smirked, "Or sockets as the case may be with you." He ran his fingers over the smooth glass surface of the bulb before slipping it gently into his pocket.

"I'll have to be careful with how I use this power." A mischievous smirk crossed his features. "Although not before I shock a little sense into Ham, and," he paused, imagining the upcoming prom and remembering what had inspired him to ask Preena to go with him in the first place, "a lot of it into Drake the Dickhead."

The sorry slashed state of his tires made it take longer than usual for Elmo to get home. The tow truck ate up the last of his cash, and he was lucky that the garage owner knew his mother well enough to let him have a new set of tires on credit. By the time Elmo made it home he had endured more unexpected zaps, a few of which knocked him flat on his rump, than he would have imagined the average individual would get in a lifetime. The first thing he did when he finally got home was take his mother's rubber dish-washing gloves, which, fortunately for Elmo, were not wet. Those cut down on the nasty surprise shocks by quite a bit, and he decided that he would have to get himself a better pair of gloves to wear on a more permanent basis, as well as more "grounding" clothing for the rest of his body.

Until then, however, the bright yellow dishpan hands would have to do. He greeted his parents briefly and ignored their curious and puzzled expressions that were no doubt the result of his dramatically altered hairstyle and odd notion to wear dish-washing gloves as an accessory, and snagged a bite to eat before heading back out again. He was at Ham's house fifteen minutes later, knocking on the front door. A plump pig woman with a kindly face opened it and gave Elmo a very strange look. "Hello?"

"Hello, Mrs. String. My name is Elmo Sputterspark, and I'm one of Ham's friends from school. Can I talk to him?"

"I'll," she paused, still giving Elmo an odd look, "go and get him. Just a moment." She left him waiting and a minute or so later, Ham appeared in the doorway where Elmo happened to overhear Mrs. String saying something to someone else about "odd hairstyle trends in teenagers these days."

Ham did not invite him in, and he closed the door behind him as he stepped out onto the porch, first glaring and then blinking in surprise at Elmo's altered appearance. "What do you want?"

Elmo did not say anything. Instead he maintained an impassive expression and pointed his index finger squarely at Ham's midsection. Before Ham could speak, a burst of electricity knocked him flat on his rear end on the cement landing of the porch. He groaned in surprise and pain while Elmo stood over him, shaking his head.

"Thanks for making my experiment an unparalleled success, buddy," Elmo quipped as he then offered his friend his other hand in a friendly gesture to help him up. "Now we're almost even for what I endured from you inadvertently giving me these powers when you taped me to my treadmill! Not to mention the indignation of being forced to walk around with this ridiculous hairstyle." He paused, and then zapped Ham again where he was still on the cement while he left his other hand extended to him. "Okay, now we're pretty much even."

Ham eyed Elmo warily and stood, taking his offered hand only with hesitation and a very confused look.

"If you'd given me a chance to say anything before you flew off the handle, I'd have told you that I only asked Preena to the prom because she said no one asked her and was going on about how she thought I should go, too. She's just a friend. In fact, we were talking about how much fun it'd be to get one over on Drake the Dickhead at something like the prom, actually." He sighed. "If you liked her that much, you should've just said so."

Feeling both foolish and ashamed of himself in light of what Elmo told him, Ham gave his friend an apologetic look. "Oh. I guess I kind of earned you knocking me on my ass, then. I really acted like a chowder head. Sorry."

With a wry smirk, Elmo replied, "It's ok, Ham. You weren't acting."

Despite himself, Ham chortled. "Heh, I guess Drake the Dickhead really brings out the best in me. I shouldn't have let him rile me up like that and take it out on you. I was just… well, you know." He shook his head and apologized again. "Sorry." He looked over Elmo's changed appearance. "That's some hairdo, man. And can you really just zap anything like you did me without a ray gun or anything?"

Elmo nodded. "Yeah! It's like all of that electricity I generated, and more, is stored in my body now. I'm a walking death ray."

"Wow! That's pretty cool," Ham said with a note of admiration. "Makes up for the hair, anyway."

"Yeah, I know," Elmo said dryly. "I bet Preena will be embarrassed to be seen with me at the prom, so maybe she'll want to dance with you instead. I have other plans for it anyway."

Ham gave him a curious look. "Like what?"

With a grin Elmo shot a light burst of voltage at Ham's feet, making him yelp and jump in surprise. "While you steal my date and dance with Preena, I'm going to make Drake the Dickhead do an entertaining little dance of his own in front of the whole senior class."

When prom night finally arrived, Preena was surprised by her date's attire to say the least. She had been hoping that Elmo would smooth down that strange new hairdo he had been wearing to school as of late for the occasion—it was not flattering at all!—and she supposed that she should not have been surprised that he was also wearing gloves when he showed up. Elmo had worn some kind of rubbery glove to school every day recently, claiming that he had a skin condition and it was doctor's orders. Nothing prepared her for what he was wearing when he picked her up that night, though. Instead of the formal wear that one expected a young man attending the prom to don, Elmo had on a bright yellow rubber jumpsuit, goggles, and electric blue gloves and boots. She knew that Elmo had some odd and eccentric tastes but that… that was over the top, even for Elmo Sputterspark. Especially with that horrible hairstyle!

"Preena, honey, would you like us to get some pictures of you and your date before you go?" she heard her mom ask from the foyer.

Blanching at the thought, Preena stepped outside quickly and brought the door with her so that only her head poked through. "No, Mom, that's okay. Maybe tonight afterwards. We're gonna be late, so we've got to go now. Bye!" She shut the door before they could argue and before they could get a look at Elmo, and she hurried toward his car as quickly as her prim heels would allow.

"That's quite the suit," she remarked coolly as she climbed into the vehicle, which sadly matched his attire far better than she liked. "You did know this was supposed to be a formal thing and not a costume ball, right?"

Elmo looked over at her as they pulled out of the driveway. "Well, I had to dress for the occasion, and unfortunately functionality trumps formal wear in a case like this." He paused and gave her a reassuring smile as he looked her over in her satiny mint-green dress. "You, uh, look pretty though." Girls liked to hear that stuff, right?

Preena could not help but smile at the compliment, although Elmo's strange attire still had her put off and embarrassed in advance for the stares she knew they would be getting when they got there. "Thank you. But what do you mean by 'functionality'?"

"Let's just say that I've got some shocking new dance moves," he said, and held up a finger that to her amazement began to spark.

"Oh my god," gasped Preena. "That's… you? It's coming from you?"

Elmo nodded.

"How?" the stunned Preena asked.

"It's a long story, but the short and simple version is that my science experiment I've been working on for Mr. Featherwich's class is not only a success, but has a few additional perks that I got a real charge out of."

"Wow." Preena fell silent for a moment as she processed what Elmo told her. "I guess you'll definitely win at the science fair now."

"It'd be a real shock if I didn't," Elmo quipped with a grin. "But you know who'll get an even bigger charge out of it?"

"Who?"

"Drake Mallard."

The devious look in Elmo's goggle-covered eyes and the unashamed glee in his tone made Preena giggle. "Oh, wow. This'll definitely be a night to remember, won't it?"

A little while later they arrived at the dance and the two of them went in arm-in-arm like all of the other couples did. Just as Preena predicted, everyone gave them strange looks—Elmo for his attire, and her as his willing date being seen in public with him dressed like that—but at first no one said anything. Both Preena and Elmo heard their whispers and snickers, however, and she started to grow uncomfortable and little red in the face after a few minutes of it.

Maybe Elmo isn't really my type after all, she mused as she realized how he did not even seem to notice their looks and stares, and felt a stab of envy for those dancing with their normally-dressed dates. She knew Elmo had always been okay with being viewed as odd or eccentric, but while she admired his ability to genuinely not care what his peers thought, she did not share it. Shy and introverted as she was, and as much as a part of her wished she didn't, Preena did care, and she felt extremely awkward and like she was on display. It was a bit of a relief to her then when Ham, who had come alone, joined them at their table.

"Hey guys," he greeted them in his usual friendly manner.

"Hey Ham. Nice suit."

"I might say the same about you, man." Ham chortled. Like most of the other boys attending the prom, he was in a tuxedo rented from one of the local tailors. "People are thinking you forgot this wasn't the Halloween ball or something."

"Well, Elmo's always had a unique style," Preena said with a somewhat sheepish look, while Ham smiled at her.

"Yeah. His pretty date makes up for his ugliness, though."

Preena laughed at the combination of a compliment to her and friendly jab to his friend in one. "Thank you, Ham. You look nice, too. Very handsome."

"Thanks," he replied with a shy and flattered smile.

"Well, well, well," a familiar voice sneered from behind them. Drake Mallard, clad in a yellow and black tuxedo with a red tie, leveled a mocking stare at the trio. "What's this? Captain Sputter-geek and his sidekicks Prissy Preena, Pork Chop the Pathetic, and his invisible date?"

Ham and Preena glared at Drake, while Elmo just stood up and gave Drake a bored look. "Oh, I am deeply wounded by your cutting wit."

"My eyes are deeply wounded by your ugly-ass costume. If you were going to dress up like some stupid comic book super-hero, you should've at least had the decency to pick one with a mask so we wouldn't have to look at your face, Super-dork."

"Super-dork, really?" Elmo rolled his eyes. "At least give me a name that matches my powers… something like 'Megawatt.'" He pointed his finger at Drake, and before he could respond, Elmo hit him with a blast of electricity that knocked Drake head over tail feathers.

While the other students gasped and gawked as Drake got his comeuppance, his ditzy date Loretta Featherston scratched her head. "Isn't Mega-Watt the name of some band?"

Elmo blinked and glanced at Loretta. "Is it?" He did not remember that, but then again, his memory had not been the greatest even before his brain had taken an insane amount of amperes the day he gained his powers. "Okay then, make it Megavolt!"

He gave Drake another zap just because he could, and the bully let out a loud and angry string of four letter words as the shock left him with a ringing echo in his head and feeling like his feathers were puffed out just like his rival's hairstyle.

"What's the matter, Drake?" Elmo, or as he had jokingly dubbed himself, Megavolt, taunted. "I thought you got a charge out of being the center of attention!"

Several other students laughed, and all of them were watching and waiting to see what would happen next.

"Fry his ass, Elmo!" one of the other students cheered him on.

"Yeah, give Drake the Dickhead a zap from me," someone else called out.

"Go, Megavolt!" one of the cheerleaders—Ham's once-crush Samantha Fennix—shouted with a wide grin on her bill while two of her cheerleader friends joined in with her.

"Give me an M!"

"Give me an E!"

"Give me a G!"

That time the crowd echoed, much to the recovering Drake's enragement. "G!"

"Give me an A!"

"A!"

"Give me a V!"

"V!"

"Give me an O!"

"O!"

Whoa, the cheerleaders are cheering for me? Elmo was amazed. The cheerleaders had never given him as much as the time of day before.

"Give me an L!"

"L!" That time Preena and Ham joined in with the crowd, and Megavolt—that was a pretty cool-sounding name, he thought—socked it to Drake Mallard once again, with feeling.

"Give me a T!"

"T!"

"What's that spell?" Samantha's poufy black hair bounced along with her breasts as she did a cheerleader-style jump in her strapless prom dress.

"Megavolt!" the crowd roared in response.

Louder that time, Samantha repeated, "What's that spell?"

"MEGAVOLT!"

Megavolt could not help but grin.

"What's that spell?" Samantha hollered a third time, in a trained voice that would have made most hoarse, and as the crowd gave their thundering approval by shouting Megavolt's name so loud that it drowned out the music, Drake Mallard had a different answer. Dead meat, he thought furiously as he was thrust up and back down against the floor in a demonstration of Elmo-turned-Megavolt's powers. As soon as I can get up I'm going to give him what's coming to him!

That was Drake's last thought as he went sailing through the air. Megavolt's latest electrical charge hit him with such force that it knocked him unconscious and sent him flying past the stage's curtains and into a rack of costumes kept by the school's drama club.

Drake did not know how long he had been knocked out when he regained consciousness. It was not that long, he realized after a moment, for he could still hear the prom music playing strong on the other side of the curtain. Oh, wait until I get my hands on that freak 'Megavolt' Sputterspark! I'm going to barbecue him in front of the entire school and let him live just long enough to regret it. Drake's vicious thoughts were not melodramatic. Angry as he was, he wanted to see Elmo suffer that much. It was among the first times he had been enraged enough to think he would enjoy killing someone, but it would hardly be the last.

"So he wants to dress up and play super-hero, does he? All right, then, I'll play it his way." Drake surveyed the costumes on the rack and picked up a wide-brimmed red fedora and put it on. It matched well with his tuxedo, and was a similar shade of red to his favored leather jacket. Grinning, he spotted a mannequin wearing a Midnight Marauder outfit complete with black face mask. With a cackle he grabbed it and tied it around his head, and then he took a black and red magician's cape and put it around his shoulders. "Oh yeah, this conveys the right look," he said as he struck a dangerous pose, complete with his best ass-kicking glower, and eyed himself in the mirror. "I'll enjoy pulling the plug on Sparky's little freak-show in this get-up."

Drake pulled his hunting knife out of his jacket pocket and polished it on one of the satin fairy dresses on the rack. "Much better." He held it up so that it gleamed in what little light there was backstage, and then he admired his form in the mirror once again. "All right, St. Canard High," he chuckled darkly. "Say hello to your new anti-hero… Dark Duck!"

He frowned. No, that just sounded stupid, like it was trying too hard.

He stuck another intimidating pose. "Midnight Murderer!"

That pseudonym fell even flatter than the last one, and Drake scowled irritably and twirled his knife with growing impatience.

"No! I need something better than that. Something completely black, ruthless, and negative! Something like 'The Evil Black-Hearted Bastard of Doom'!"

He frowned and shook his head. "No, too close to what I call the principal. Come on, come on! I need something suitably bad-ass so I can negate that loser's existence already!"

It was then that wicked inspiration struck and Drake eyed his reflection with approval, a twisted smile crossing his bill as the perfect name came to him. "Negaduck."