Warnings: Mentions of Murder, Implied Kidnapping, Toxic Mindsets.
This is based on a discussion with a fan about Steelbeak having a lesbian friend who befriends some of the other F.O.W.L. agents, but they are kidnapped by S.H.U.S.H. under the pretense of being rescued.
* * *
Just as Bradford sucked in a breath, the double doors to the conference room burst open in a flurry of golden plumage and a red comb.
A snow-white tuxedo buttoned with black glowed in the dark, and a pair of long-footed dress shoes thundered past the left row of swivel chairs. The shadow of a metallic beak, with its bolts and screws bulging, passed over the heads of F.O.W.L. agents at a towering height.
Bradford grunted in surprise and protest when the footsteps came to a halt a short distance away from him. A burly hand snatched the telephone off the table, which rattled and tilted to the left after a hefty weight leaned on it.
The voice that poured into the silence was shrill, maddened, and a hairsbreadth from cracking. "When I find out which one of your agents took them, I'm bringing down your whole club!"
Steelbeak was shaking as if he had downed a six-pack of energy drinks before stomping into the fray, and his eyes held all the wildness of a rabid dog.
No answer came from the other side until Bradford wrenched the telephone out of his grasp and waved at him to step back. "Our patience is limited, von Drake." A degree of exhaustion clung to Bradford's voice, a remnant of his grapple with Steelbeak that he concealed by clasping his hands together and straightening his posture.
A blip of static preceded the sigh of Ludwig. "So is ours, Bradford. So is ours."
Don Karnage gripped the edge of the table and pushed himself from his seat, standing tall as the chair squeaked backwards. The blade of a cutlass rang like a snake hissing as it was unsheathed and thrust towards the shadowed ceiling.
"Let it not be said that we stood idly by while our dear companion fell into the clutches of our mortal enemy!" He outstretched his free arm and clutched the air as if holding his heart in the palm of his hand, and his eyes, narrowed and full of passion, rose to the darkness looming overhead.
Further down the table, a fist pounded the wood twice. "Hear, hear!" shouted Rockerduck, the fabric of his gloves stretching as he curled his fingers into a tighter ball. The outline of his knuckles was prominent in the silk, and he wore the look of indignation as though it was a second coat.
"I say we hog-tie this agent, string them up, and let the hangman deal with them." There was no playfulness or wanton hostility to his voice, just the steady and concise command of a fat cat quelling the rebellion.
Bradford turned his attention to the vanilla folder lying open below his hooked beak, its contents having been spilt across his corner of the table. He shuffled the documents into a neat pile and eyed the top paper's list of the last known residences of various S.H.U.S.H. agents.
"As you well know," he spoke into the telephone, choosing his words with care. "This is a sensitive matter." Bradford allowed a brief pause in anticipation of another outburst, this one in agreement with his statement. "I see no reason why it needs to live beyond this call."
Ludwig's voice came back faintly distorted by static. "I disagree, dear Bradford."
There existed a distinct amusement in his words that drew a grumble from Bradford, his yellow eyes gleaming in the dimly lit room.
"You see, we've grown quite fond of our new friend."
A growl was building in the throat of Steelbeak, rising higher and gaining ferocity with each splinter in the wood that came from his squeezing the side of the table. He had one hand on the surface, fingers splayed and ready to help propel him to his feet.
Beside him, Gandra sat typing away on a laptop computer. The brilliant light of the screen shone only for her, and her eyes had not strayed from it since the moment her fingers started to fly from place to place on the keyboard minutes ago.
It was when Bradford looked in her direction that Gandra finally glanced up. "I've got a trace on the call," she muttered, keeping her voice down and her fingers moving.