Darkwing had seen the telltale black, yellow, and red of Negaduck's motorcycle and been after it in a flash, abandoning his rooftop surveillance of the Old Haunt to scurry across the roofs of the bad part of town. When his dastardly doppelganger had disappeared into the derelict domicile, Darkwing had deftly deduced that a clandestine meeting of some sort was taking place. He dropped down to a window ledge and crouched in the shadows, keeping his cape wrapped around him so that he wouldn't be discernable from the rest of the darkness.

What he hadn't expected was who the other half of that meeting turned out to be. His jaw dropped slowly at the sight of Morgana, and even if he had been able to hear through the thick, industrial-strength glass, he wouldn't have registered a word of it. Morgana - his Morgana, or at least sometimes he thought maybe she still was? - in cohorts with his most vile and villainous enemy? Again? Cooler heads would have prevailed and said there had to be some explanation. Cooler heads would have chosen to follow Negaduck again once the meeting was over. But instead, Darkwing left before the whole thing would even be finished, and made a beeline back to the Ratcatcher, which he drove at top speed to beat her back to Macawber Manor.

When Morgana arrived, she would find him sitting nonchalantly on the steps, sheltered from the perpetual downpour in her front yard. "Thought I'd come and surprise you," he said, his voice just a little too high and casual. "Wasn't expecting you to be out..."