Chapter Text
Donald was torn. On the one hand, Della was back. He had thought he would never see his sister again, and she was back. On the other hand, Dewey was gone. He had traded one beloved family member for another. And despite all his futile searching over the past months, he couldn’t shake the feeling that Dewey was still out there somewhere. The memory of that rope dangling in the cavern, with marks suggesting it had been cut away, and the lack of a body….
He remained convinced that someone had taken Dewey. Whether Dewey had been alive or dead, he couldn’t be sure. And even if he had been alive, the odds of him still being alive were depressingly slim.
But seeing Della here, warm and excited and awkward as ever, gave him new hope.
He couldn’t mention that to her, of course, or to Huey and Louie. It would be cruel to give any of them false hope based on nothing but a gut instinct. But he could talk to Scrooge.
It was a strange thing, confiding in his uncle after so many years of resentment.
He knocked lightly on the door to Scrooge’s office.
“Come in,” he heard his uncle say.
Donald entered and shut the door firmly behind him.
“Ah, lad, how are ye?” Scrooge asked with a small smile. “Is Della settling in alright?”
Donald shrugged. “She’s… fine, I think. She’s with the boys.” Donald didn’t know what else to say, exactly. The silence stretched awkwardly between them.
Scrooge looked uncomfortable as well. He fiddled with a few loose coins laying on his desk before speaking. “How are the boys, then? Are they…?” Scrooge trailed off.
Donald sighed. “I don’t think they know how to feel. They’ve never had a mom before. And Della’s not exactly…”
“Not the motherly type, eh?” Scrooge asked, finally cracking a smile.
“Not exactly,” Donald chuckled sadly. “She’s trying, but she doesn’t know what she’s doing. And all of them are still dealing with…”
“Dewey,” Scrooge finished for him, growing serious again. “I take it you don’t have any new leads, do ye?”
Donald shook his head. “I don’t get it. Someone had to have taken him. But who would do that?”
“It might have been one of my enemies,” Scrooge said. “There’s plenty of nefarious ne’er-do-wells that might like to use him as leverage.”
“But he didn’t have anything to do with you for his whole life!” Donald said, running his hands down his face. “He hadn’t even known he was related to you until the day before he was lost!” He collapsed into the chair in front of Scrooge’s desk. “He has to be out there somewhere…”
Scrooge was silent for a moment. “You’re going to go back out and look for him again, aren’t ye lad?”
Donald rested his head in his hands. “I have to. But I can’t go yet, Della needs my help. And the boys…”
Scrooge nodded understandingly, then sighed. “You’re the backbone of this family, Donald. I wish I could say that I was the courageous captain to lead us through this storm. But anything ye need, lad, I will give it. I only wish I could do more.”
There was a long silence. Neither man was exceptionally articulate when it came to feelings, but there was an understanding between them now that didn’t need to be put into words.
“I do have one request,” Donald finally said, standing up shakily. “Tell me if you hear anything. You have the resources to investigate. Anything suspicious, or strange, or even vaguely unusual, I want to hear about it. I can’t…” Donald’s voice caught and he took a deep breath. “I need to know where I’m going. I need to look for him one last time.”
Scrooge nodded. “Of course. I already have some friends in the police force and SHUSH that are investigating Beakley’s disappearance. Keeping a lookout for mentions of the lad should hardly be much more to ask.” He paused. “Speaking of Beakley… how is her granddaughter doing?”
Donald sighed. “As good as expected, I suppose. Though she is doing an excellent job of mediating Della and the boys, and…” Donald waved his hand vaguely. “Everything.”
Scrooge chuckled lightly. “She’s totally star struck isn’t she?”
Donald actually managed a smile. “Yep. Della’s definitely appreciating all the questions. Help the boys get to know her better and give her a chance to show off. They could all use the distraction.”
—-
Heron’s day had gone a bit differently than expected but she liked to think she had handled it well. Rumors had been circulating that Magica De Spell was trapped or diminished in power instead of dead, but she never would have guessed the sorceress to be able to do so much from inside her containment.
The teenager, who called herself ‘Lena’, seemed to be almost completely under Magica’s control. The key word being almost . The problem with giving any of your creations sentience was that it left a loophole. They could always be swayed to a different side. Or worse, gain goals that don’t align with your own.
Magica seemed unaware of this potential problem, but if she had managed to keep the dreadful thing this long she had to have something it wanted. Regardless, something closer to Dewey in age would be useful. She could tell that he was already emotionally attached to the thing. Obviously unaware of what it was. Heron half wondered if the… creature… was even aware of what it was.
Convincing Bradford to keep Lena, and in extension Magica, had gone surprisingly smoothly. Apparently having an easy way to tell if Magica, an extreme case for chaos, had escaped and what she was up to was the best course of action. She was also an easy way for Heron to figure out more about magic. An area of study that had interested her for a long time.
“Heron! Look!”
The cyborg was shaken from her thoughts at Dewey’s shout. She got up from her seat to look out where Dewey was pointing. Outside the helicopter window was a landmass slowly growing larger as they approached. Nestled in one of the bays was a city that held Dewey’s attention.
“Ah, Duckburg.” Heron grinned as the city gleamed on the horizon. “We can’t seem to escape this city lately. How are you holding up, dear?”
The child’s eyes hardened. “I’m fine.”
Heron grinned. “Excellent. Luckily this mission shouldn’t get us too close to… sensitive subjects. However, we will be in your old stomping grounds. I’ll be relying on you to get in and out without too much trouble.” A lie, she had a map memorized.
Dewey straightened up with a bit of pride. “You got it, Heron.”
“Excellent!” Heron glanced at the city again as she remembered the last time the two of them had flown into Duckburg. “Speaking of the past and the people attached to it… I have a secondary goal for you.”
The child looked up in surprise. “Really? What is it?”
“When we were interrogating Twenty-Two you mentioned her granddaughter, Webbigail.”
Her little project tilted his head in confusion. “Webby? What does she have to do with anything?”
Heron tapped her beak in a show of looking thoughtful, as if she hadn’t started planning this from the moment she realized the clone was still alive. “The enemy raised her, and knowing Twenty-Two, she likely also trained her. She likely knows much about Scrooge.”
“I mean, she did have this weird stalker board filled with facts about him. Pictures and files and strings connecting everything. She tied us- I mean, she tied me up right in front of it.”
…She what? Heron’s mind stalled for a second. Did the girl know? No, no. Of course she didn’t. Twenty-Two would never-
Heron cleared her throat. “Interesting. In that case we definitely should bring her in. If you run into her on any missions going forward that will be your goal.” Heron decided she should add a few details to this “mission” so her pet project actually came back mostly intact. “You must be careful, Dewey. She has more training than you, but you have-”
“A super-cool robot arm!” Dewey spun his robotic hand to emphasize his point.
“Yes yes, but she’ll be infinitely more useful to us alive, so I’d really rather you didn’t blast her to pieces.”
“Aww…” The child actually seemed disappointed at the lack violence. She nearly patted herself on the back at the obvious success she had at turning this child to her side.
“Instead, this will be a wonderful opportunity to test your wits. I want you to outsmart her. She will likely think she can get you on her side, but you must be expecting this and counter her. Get any and all information you can from her. Or better yet, convince her to join us. But don’t get cocky, this all must be done with the utmost subtlety.”
Dewey gasped. “You mean this will be my first real super-secret spy mission?!”
Heron grinned. “Yes, if you prefer to think of it that way. Not a battle of strength, but of the mind. And you are my apprentice, so I expect you to come out on top.”
Dewey puffed out his chest. “I won’t let you down!”
“Good. Now back to the mission at hand. We’ll be landing on an island just outside of the city, and our reconnaissance tells us that it should be abandoned at this time of day. Therefore, stealth will not be our first priority. We might encounter some strange things on this island, and considering how this is a fairly low stakes mission and your previous experience with the location, I will be letting you take the lead.”
Dewey’s eyes lit up. “Really?” He asked enthusiastically.
Heron allowed herself a light chuckle. “Don’t get too far ahead of yourself, I will still be calling the shots. However you will be determining our course through the grounds. I will, how do you like to say… go with the flow.”
Dewey nodded in excitement before turning back to the window.
As Heron watched the city creep closer she checked her pocket. She grinned as her fingers brushed against stiff cloth.
Time to get Donald Duck’s attention.
~~~~~~~
Violet Sabrewing sat quietly at one of the tables inside the Junior Woodchuck lodge. The Challenge of the Junior Senior Woodchucks was coming up, and this would be her third time attempting to qualify. She wanted to get it right this time.
Being alone in the lodge always helped her to focus on studying the Guidebook, so she had asked her dads to drop her off on an afternoon when nothing was scheduled. It had been more than an hour, and she was feeling fairly confident in her Woodchuck knowledge. Perhaps she should step outside to practice some practical skills.
Violet stood up from the bench and stretched. She could use some fresh air. She grabbed her water bottle from her backpack and headed outside, taking a deep breath.
She could do it this year. She would achieve the title of Senior Woodchuck.
Violet found a spot in the trees a dozen yards from the lodge and took out her pocketknife. Carefully, she scanned the ground around her for a suitable subject. There! A fallen branch of basswood with a sizable diameter. Excellent wood for carving.
She settled herself against the trunk of a tree and had just started the initial shaping of the wood when she noticed movement out of the corner of her eye.
She paused, looking towards the lodge. Two figures were approaching the door. One tall and slender, and the second very short- probably a kid around her own age.
What are they doing here? She wondered to herself. A new competitor for Senior Woodchuck, perhaps? Maybe the child was here with a parent to brush up on their skills as well.
Settled, Violet turned her attention back to her carving. A moment later however, a strange whistling sound made her look up again.
Instead of going into the lodge, the child had gone around the side, trailed by the taller figure. A multicolored bird was whistling and tweeting a distinctive tune ahead of them, and the child seemed interested. She could just make out bits of conversation coming from the two figures.
“-you sure?” The kid was asking. “You don’t think this is a waste of time?”
“On the contrary, Dewey.” The slender woman replied. “This may be the quickest way to accomplish our goal.”
The kid- Dewey- laughed and started dancing alongside the energetic bird they had followed. There was something odd about both of them, Violet thought, but they were too far away for her to get a good look.
She attempted to pull her focus back to carving, but the project seemed mundane compared to her curiosity for the newcomers. Perhaps she should go to greet them? A Woodchuck must always be friendly to their fellow Woodchucks, after all.
Violet put her pocketknife and half-carved stick into her backpack and started to approach the pair, though they seemed to be wandering away from the lodge and towards the center of the island. As she got closer, she overheard a bit more of what the two were saying.
“-don’t know much about this place. I wasn’t a Junior Woodchuck for very long. Huey was...” The kid suddenly got quiet.
“Your information will still be invaluable, Dewey. Try not to overthink things. We get what we need, then get out.”
Dewey nodded staunchly to the woman’s statement and continued to follow the flamboyant bird.
Violet slowed her approach. If the kid wasn’t a Junior Woodchuck, then why was he here? What were he and the woman looking for? She squinted at them. She could just make out something strange about each one’s right arm, something that was… wrong, somehow.
She glanced back to the shaded spot under the tree where she’d been carving. She should probably just leave well enough alone and mind her business.
And yet there was something about those two that just… didn’t seem right.
A line from the Junior Woodchuck Guidebook popped into her head: Rule #2- All Junior Woodchucks must be open to the unknown in their quest for the truth.
Violet had always been partial to a direct approach when searching for answers, but a subtle sense of danger warned her that she should avoid being spotted by the strangers.
At that moment, the woman turned her head. Violet’s heart skipped a beat as she darted into the nearest bush, concealing herself. The woman continued to stare at the place she had just been.
“What’s up, Heron?” Dewey asked cheerfully.
The tall woman turned away again and slipped a hand into her pocket. “Oh, it’s nothing, Dewey. Just making sure we’re… alone.”
“Come on, no one is ever out here unless they’re on some lame campout or something.” Dewey said lightly. “And what would they do if they did see us anyway? All those Junior Woodchucks are so nerdy, always following the rules,” He scoffed.
“Precisely.” Heron continued to follow Dewey and the bird he was so fascinated by.
Violet tried to calm her breathing. Something was definitely wrong here. Carefully, she crept forward, making sure to stay out of sight. As the duo rounded a corner in the trail, she saw something fall from the woman’s pocket.
As Violet neared the fork in the trail, her breath caught in her throat. The sight of what the woman had left behind chilled her to the bone.
It was a scrap of blue fabric, but the cloth alone wasn’t what concerned her. What was churning her stomach were the smears and splatters of old blood that covered it. There was so much, she could barely stand to look at it. And yet she couldn’t look away. The edges of the fabric were frayed and torn, and underneath the bloodstains she could see charring and scorch marks.
And worst of all, the ragged thing had clearly once been the sleeve and collar of a child-sized shirt.
Violet found herself stumbling back. What sort of awful things must have happened to that child? And why would that woman have such a thing in her pocket ?
She had to leave. Had to get help.
She had to go NOW.