Team Limit Productions presents</i>
A giant, black T and L drop onto a white screen, then separated to reveal the words Team Limit. And the word Productions fades into existence underneath the original two. Finally, the words float away.
A Looney Tunes film</i>
Lola, hand that thing over me and no one gets hurt! a squeaky voice called with a lisp. Walking out from a brush of bushes was a little black duck with orange legs, bill and a white collar around his neck. Where the heck did she go? he pondered to himself, wondering around a garden His familys garden to be exact. This little duck was Daffy the son of Howard Duck, an important business-duck in the city known as Acme Acres. As such, the Duck family was exceptionally wealthy and lived in a handsome-looking mansion.
Daffy walked into a greenhouse, pacing slowly to find his friend. Finally, he ducked (no pun intended) under a table to find her. She was a little rabbit with tan fur, white fur on her feet, as well as from the lower half her face reaching down to her abdomen, and back to the back of her fluffy tail, and a little pink nose, eyes with blue iris, and blond hair. Lemme see it, Lola! Daffy whined to her.
Lola smirked. Finders keepers and I found it.
That was a lousy game show, anyways, Daffy said, sending spittle everywhere. Besides, you found it in my garden! Lola rolled her eyes, and relented. She slowly opened her hands to show the object, an ancient stone that was craved into an arrowhead. Daffy quickly snatched the artifact out of her hands, and dashed off. Finders keepers! he laughed.
Lola chased after him out of the greenhouse, but when she exited it he had vanished. Daffy? she called. The duckling snickered quietly to himself as he stood behind an old well that had dried, and covered up. She wont find him there. But he heard a cracking sound, and looked down. The wooden boards over the well were breaking from his weight.
The boards collapsed, plummeting Daffy into the long and dark well. Lola quickly rushed to the hole. Daffy! she gasped. Dont worry! Im going to get help!
Daffy moaned. His eyes examined his surroundings; it almost like a creepy cave one would find when excavating for gold. Suddenly, Daffy heard a sort of strange sound from the opposite end of the cave. It was like flapping or something. It might be a monster. Exploding toward Daffy was dozens or more bats, each flapping and shrieking. Daffy screamed, waving his hands to keep the bats away as they escaped toward the light to the outside. They werent monsters, but they just as might have been. He had never been more terrified in his life.
A fully grown Daffys eyes snapped wide open. He breathed heavily and was drenched in sweat. He wiped the sweat from his bill as he rose from his bed in a Bhutanese prison. Daffy had grown taller, leaner, and a bit more cynical in this time of his life. And he grew a beard to compliment it. Daffy groaned. He didnt need these dreams haunting him. He turned to his cellmate, who asked, You have dream?
Daffy stared at the ceiling. More like a friggin nightmare. He sat up, rested his face in his feathery hands, and rubbed his tired eyes.
Worse than this place? the cellmate asked.
Daffy didnt answer.
Daffy stood in line for his morning chow and held a freezing metal pan that looks like it was made for a dog. He simply only wore a raggedy gray coat, some fingerless gloves and a dark blue scarf. Daffy looked to the cloud-filled sky that blocked out the sun. He lifted his arm and sniffed his armpit. He shunned away in disgust and lowered his arm again. Needless to say, he reeked. Daffy looked ahead to see a large prisoner that was completely covered in red fur marching his away with a group of other prisoners. Gossamer is going to fight you, his cellmate stated, standing behind the duck.
Again? Daffy asked dryly.
Until he kills you! he said critically.
A scoop of liquidly gruel was slapped into Daffys meal pan. Well, can he kill me before breakfast? he said sardonically.
His pan was slapped away by Gossamer, who jeered at him. You are in hell, little duck, he said sneeringly. He connected his fist with the side of Daffys face, making him crash into the slop table. Gossamer picked Daffy back up by the roots of the feathers on his head. And I
am the devil. He punched Daffy again, knocking him to the ground this time.
Daffy didnt even groan as he pushed himself back on his webbed feet. Youre not the devil, he said, cracking his neck. Youre practice. Gossamer took another swing at him, but Daffy dropped and smashed Gossamers face with his elbow. He stretched his head back and headbutt-ed Gossamers skull, knocking the larger monster out. Seeing that their leader was beaten by a scrawny duck, the prison gang charged at Daffy.
Daffy grabbed the closest member, slammed him against the slop table. The rest tried to surround him, but Daffy put his feet against the table and pushed, forcing him and the other prisoners falling down a small hill into sloppy mud. Daffy dragged one by his legs through the wet dirt until another sucker punched him. Daffy responded with a quick kick to the stomach. One member tried to jump him, but Daffy broke his nose by smashing it with the back of his head and threw him over his shoulder. Simply put, Daffy laid waste to this gang with ease.
Until the prison guards finally intercepted them, and started dragging the raging duck away. Youre going to solitary! they told him.
Why?! Daffy demanded.
For protection, a guard answered.
I dont need protection! he spat.
Protection for them! He pointed back at the mess of injured prisoners.
They were asking for it
Daffy was tossed carelessly into a dark, dingy, empty room except for a stool, some hay, and filthy window. The iron door was slammed behind him, leaving him all alone. Daffy angrily kicked some hay into the air, and sulked. He didnt do anything wrong. It was self-defense. They were the real criminals.
Are you so desperate to fight criminals that you lock yourself in to take them on one at a time? a smooth, French-accented voice asked.
Daffy realized immediately he wasnt alone, and turned to see a skunk walk from the shadows that so easily hid him in the room in plain sight. The skunk had black fur with a white strip going down from the top of his head to the tip of his tail, and he wore some rather clean clothes that Daffy was surprised to see in such a dirty environment. Actually, there were seven of them, Daffy said, choosing to sit down on the hard ground instead of the stool.
I counted six, Monsieur Duck, the skunk said evenly.
Daffy stared at him with a raised eyebrow. Howd you know my name?
Youre a duck, he replied obviously. But, no. I do know who you are. Le world is too small for someone like Daffy Duck to disappear. No matter how deep he chooses to sink.
Daffy shook his head. Who are you?
My name is Mel Jones, he said. But I speak for Pepé Le Pew, a man greatly feared by ze criminal underworld. A man who can offer you a path.
What makes you think I need a path? Daffy said, uninterested.
Someone like you is only here by choice, Jones continued. You have been exploring the criminal fraternity, but whatever your original intentions, you have truly become lost.
Daffy looked at the skunk again, regarding him with more curiosity. And what path does this Le Pew offer for me?
The path of a man who shares his hatred of evil and wishes to serve true justice: The path of the League of Shadows.
Daffy chuckled. Youre vigilantes.
No, no, no, Jones shook his head. A vigilante ez just a man lost in the scramble for his own gratification. He can be destroyed or lock up. But if you make yourself more than a man, if you devote yourself to an ideal, and if they cant stop you, then you become something else entirely.
Which is? he asked quietly, listening with his full attention.
Legend, Monsieur Duck, Jones answered. Daffy rested his body against the wall, taking in Jones words. Tomorrow you will be released, he said, walking out of the room. If you are bored of brawling with thieves and want to achieve something, there is a rare blue flower that grows in the eastern slopes. Pick one of these flowers. If you can carry it to the top of the mountain, you may find what you were looking for in the first place. Jones knocked on the door, and it swung open.
And what, per se, am I looking for? Daffy asked.
Jones turned around to answer. Only you can know that. Jones exited, leaving Daffy to dwelling in the skunks words and his thoughts.