The hum of the supercomputer in the Duck Cave didn't just provide data—it provided rhythm. Duckman tapped his talons against the console, his mind racing through the logistics of the city's riverfront, which Jones had highlighted on the map just hours ago. He needed more than just intuition; he needed an edge.

He tapped a secure frequency on his comms unit. "Gears, you there?"

A crackle of static echoed through the cavern, followed immediately by the rapid, excited clicking of keys from the other end. "Always, Duckman! I’ve been analyzing those infrastructure logs you sent over. The Fishy Man isn't just cutting lines; he’s rerouting them. If he pulls the wrong lever at the old industrial docks, he could flood the lower districts in an hour."

Professor Alistair "Gears" MacQuack’s voice was unmistakable—sharp, energetic, and brimming with the confidence of a man who saw the world in schematics and blueprints.

Duckman leaned back, the blue light of the monitors washing over his trench coat. "Can you stop him?"

"Stop him? I can track him," the Professor replied, his tone shifting to professional precision. "I’ve finished calibrating the Duck-Boomerang. It’s got a NATO-level tactical anchor hook now. Once you tag his signature at the docks, it’ll transmit the exact coordinates to your HUD and the Commissioner's office simultaneously. You’ll have him pinned before he knows what hit him."

"And the Duck-Mobile?" Duckman asked, glancing toward the hangar bay where his vehicle sat in wait.

"Primed, fueled, and hungry for some action," Gears laughed. "Just don't make me take it out for a Ducky Bird Burger run tonight. Let's get the job done."

Duckman stood up, the theater of his life taking hold. He adjusted his gear, checked the containment settings on his utility belt, and looked at the monitors one last time. The Professor had given him the tools; now, he just had to use them.

"I’m heading out, Gears," Duckman declared, his voice echoing with resolve. "Keep the signal open. I might need a remote override once I’m on-site."

"Understood," the Professor said. "Be careful, Duckman. The Fishy Man is playing a game of chess, but we’re the ones holding the board."

Duckman nodded, a smirk playing under his beak, and stepped toward the Duck-Mobile. The night was young, and the game was officially afoot.