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Louie had always been interested in the McDuck name. Well, “always.” Ever since he found out his great uncle was Scrooge McDuck. But come on. The man who was so rich his name was a synonym for ‘money hoarder?’ The man who had a money bin in the front harbor?
He wasn’t on Webbie Vanderquack levels of obsession, by any means, but he was interested. Everyone and their neighbor had the last name Duck, but not everyone has the last name McDuck.
So, when he went back to school after all that adventuring—he might’ve just—started calling himself “Louie McDuck.” It just rolled off the tongue. And maybe there were some business cards saved up with “Louie McDuck” printed in business sans-serif. Who knows.
But that quickly fell out of fashion as being a triplet tells everyone you’re faking an even more special connection to Scrooge McDuck. That, and your brothers threatening to tell your Uncle Donald, and thirdly, Louie just got bored of it. So Louie Duck he stayed.
He stayed Louie Duck, unhappily in Scrooge McDuck’s limo, waiting to see what business-lesson Uncle Scrooge had planned for today’s trip to the money bin.
“I thought I already learned ‘the value of a dollar,’” Louie said, slouching into the seat.
Uncle Scrooge looked away from his newspaper. “I thought you would’ve wanted to go to the Money Bin.”
“Maybe when I first met you, but I’ve combed every inch of that place. I’ve counted all your money, almost died from Gyro’s robots, accidentally let in Mark Beaks—”
“You did what?!”
“Forget that one.”
Scrooge began to fold up his newspaper. “I don’t think I will—” The car halted to a stop and lurched Scrooge forward, letting Louie slip out without following up. He quickly ran to the elevator and punched in the access code.
The doors opened, but instead of the usual greys and pale blues, the whole elevator was dressed in gold and green. Now Louie knew they were extravagant, but he was even more confident Scrooge would not spend a penny on it.
A brown hound dog stood hovering over the buttons, as if he were waiting to get to his stop. Or as if he were manning the whole operation. The dog did not move, and in Louie’s analysis of the situation, it gave Scrooge the chance to catch up.
“We’ll—” he panted. “Discuss this...”
He stopped as he noticed the man, analyzing the situation in the same way Louie was.
“Afternoon,” Scrooge said with suspicion.
As neighborly as one could, the dog simply said, “Scrooge McDuck. You have been summoned.”
“Pardon?”
The dog grabbed Scrooge by the arm and yanked him inside the elevator. Louie hastily followed after, the doors slamming behind them as they clattered forward. The elevator chirped, and suddenly, all weight let go, sending Louie and Scrooge careening. The “security guard” did not move in the meanwhile, and in between blinks, Louie saw it go from a hound dog to a much taller Doberman.
All of this happened in mere seconds as the elevator crashed to the ground. The now-doberman did not help Louie or Scrooge up, merely stepping over them into... Well, it was almost impossible for Louie to describe it. The room they were in was most certainly impossible, with a golden floor that stretched the width and length of a city park, only stopped by the surrounding ocean. And that could’ve stretched for miles.
But what Scrooge was focused on was the five story goddess statue, holding up a set of scales the size of a boardwalk.
They slowly stood up, having Launchpad to thank for being able to withstand the fall, and cautiously took their seats at an empty table. With the room's set up and the doberman in uniform, Louie had surmised that this was a court summoning.
The dog’s once polite voice suddenly boomed, shaking the room and nearly sending Scrooge and Louie’s chairs flying. “Scrooge McDuck, you have been summoned to the all-powerful karmic court for your crimes against humanity. How do you plead?”
“Crimes against humanity?” Scrooge sputtered, befuddled. “What have I done that could possibly constitute that?”
“How do you plead?”
“Innocent for crying out loud!”
“Very well.”
The bailiff howled, and a set of double doors wove themselves in place. They fell eight stories, but these people got a nice pretty door.
Ma Beagle sped into the room—Crying, bawling, wailing as loud as she could.
“Oh boy,” Louie muttered with a grimace.
She ran to the podium as it rose from the ground, and a static white picture formed above her head. Before she could begin, Scrooge loudly shouted, “Could someone please explain what’s going on before she starts babbling about?”
Ma Beagle groaned, putting the facade on hold as she placed her hands on her hips. “This is the Karmic Court, Scrooge! A place where none of your fancy lawyers or money or magic can touch you!”
“I don’t need a fancy lawyer to beat the junkyard out of you—”
Louie yanked Scrooge down from his rising position and hastily whispered, “Maybe it’s not the best idea to yell that in a court room.”
Ma Beagle leaned on her hand cheekily. “Better listen to him, Scrooge. These ain’t normal prisons. I reckon you’ll rot in here until dead or whatever eternity you got left.”
Louie balked. Scrooge was unfazed. “I’m not afraid of you, Ma Beagle. I earned the right to Duckburg fair and square, and I’m sure to prove that.”
Ma Beagle narrowed her eyes. “Oh, are you?”
“Certainly.”
“Well then...” She clapped her hands and the picture above her head came into view. A tenured image of Fort Duckburg—It only now came into question how old Ma Beagle was as she stood next to Pa Beagle who must’ve been... Decrepit?
“Uncle Scrooge,” Louie whispered. “What year did you give the town back to Duckburg?”
“Scrooge Mcduck ruined my life!” Ma Beagle snarled, finally looking angry for once during her whole monologue. The screen above her fizzled out as she slammed her hands on the podium. “Ruined the lives of every single one of my kin! And for it, I want the mansion, Duckburg, and I want the McDuck family in our junkyard!”
“What—What?!” Scrooge stood up in his chair. “This is preposterous! Your grandfather made off with the entire settlement of Duckburg, lost an unfair bet, and what, was I just supposed to—”
Louie shrank into his chair, clawing at his beak. They’d been going on like this, and it didn’t seem like they could stop.
“Scrooge McDuck,” the bailiff said, his voice echoing through the room. A golden muzzle warped around Scrooge McDuck’s beak. “If you cannot act orderly, you may not speak.”
Scrooge paled. He leaned down, calmly and for the first time, unconfidently. “Louie... It looks like you’re my lawyer.”
“What?!” squawked Louie.
“It doesn’t look like you have much of a choice. I can’t keep my mouth shut and it seems like you’re the only representative I got. Just... Try, alright?”
Louie swallowed. “I’ll... I’ll see what I can do.” Louie slipped out of his chair, fingers drumming together nervously.
The bailiff turned his head to him, narrowing his eyes. Once he deemed Louie ‘worthy,’ he straightened again and spoke. “You may address Lady Justice.”
“...Do I have to put my hand on a book or—?”
“No.”
“Got it.” Louie cleared his throat and took several steps back, trying to fully take hold of Lady Justice. It wasn’t working, but he spoke anyway. “Lady Justice, your honor...”
He stalled, trying to think of what exactly to say. He could see Ma Beagle smirking out of the corner of his eye.
“It would be irresponsible to say Scrooge McDuck is in any way at fault for the current pitfalls of the Beagle clan.”
He could see Ma Beagle’s smile plummet into a frown.
And there, Louie took a deep breath, fully prepared to rewire himself for the inane law-speak he was about to spew. “Ma Beagle, if I may...”
“My Pappy was NOT—” A muzzle, same to Scrooge’s, wrapped around Ma Beagle’s muzzle.
“—He’d stolen a settlement from the innocent people of Duckburg! Is that not a case of thievery, but taking back what was rightfully theirs? He’d cheated those people. And once, he could cheat no more, he stewed in his anger like a coward.” He turned. “Ma Beagle—”
Ma Beagle, who’d been staring daggers at Louie, straightened.
“What did your ‘Pappy’ do once he lost Fort Beagle? Remember, Lady Justice is watching.” Louie pointed a finger up, to the massive giantess that must’ve been 50ft tall standing over them. It scared Ma Beagle alright, as she swallowed almost comically and tugged at her collar. She didn’t let it last long though, regathering her composure to play the part of a sorrowful woman. “Well my Pa... He loved that old plot of land. That’s why I think he never truly recovered.”
“In what, the five years after that he lived?”
“You wretched little—”
Even Lady Justice stirred at Louie’s admittedly low blow, while Ma Beagle lurched forward for Louie’s throat. Some force stopped her in the air and threw her back. Different choice of words.
“What—What I meant was—Um—Well, who brought back the Beagle family?”
“I did.”
“And what else did you do? Other than spend years plotting vengeance on my uncle? Just sat around, feeling sorry for yourselves?”
Ma Beagle for once, looked uncomfortable.
“Or did you plunder, kidnap, and all of the other dirty work of the Beagle clan? Your pappy might’ve lost Duckburg, but everything after that? Oh Ma, that was all you. What are you to say to all the crimes of the Ma Beagle name?”
Ma Beagle blanched a little before getting red. “That’s not what we’re here to discuss—!!”
“My uncle has given back Duckburg, turned a settlement into a city, and yet it’s clear all you want out of it is a mansion and a city to pillage!” Louie could see the twitch in Ma Beagle’s eye.
“Lady Justice,” He said, spinning on his heel. “How can we call my uncle’s altruism a crime? An act that has done far more good than bad, an act only abhorred by this woman and her family because of an ill-gotten estate and a painful, crime-ridden legacy. As far as karma is concerned, Ma Beagle ruined her own life. Scrooge McDuck has done nothing to warrant this plaintiff’s claim!”
In a flourish, Ma Beagle suddenly vanished in a flash of light, landing on the scale ‘Innocent.’ She sat up with a start, looked at the words atop her head and screamed, “Noooooo!!!”
Scrooge whooped in his chair, albeit muffled. Louie’s heart was beating. There was still no explanation, no information to gather, and—He won one case. Or something.
With enough time for Louie to sit down and put his head on the table, the doors erupted from the ground a second time. Loud Scottish music blared from behind it as if it were announcing an athlete.
“Oh no...” Scrooge and Louie muttered in unison as Flintheart Glomgold kicked his way in.
Glomgold screamed in defeat, getting down from his podium to charge at Scrooge before being spirited away to the ‘Innocent’ scale hanging about their heads. Louie meanwhile stumbled back to his seat, the same sick feeling that hung over him when he put Ma Beagle away. Scrooge, unaware of this, gave him a happy shake of the shoulder. “Attaboy, lad! That’s one more down!”
“Uncle Scrooge, was that—did you do all that? You didn’t look good in that video.”
Scrooge startled and took his hand away. “Aah... I’ll admit I was a different man back then.”
“Forty years ago?”
“We can’t let the past bog us down, especially not now. You have to keep a sharp head.”
Louie frowned, replaying how Scrooge left that woman sink into shark-infested waters for a minute longer than ever necessary. He just had to win the case, and go home. That’s it.
For the third time, with luckily no fanfare, the doors opened to a curmudgeon-edy old vulture. Instead of something snarky or clever to say, he walked to the stand, put down a set of stapled papers, and straightened his glasses.
“Greetings Scrooge.” He looked at Louie. “And nephew. It’s a pleasure seeing you both again—if only to take you down. As you might’ve gathered, I did most of the work to appear here today. Rounded up a few of your enemies and such. As well as... Others who were unideal.” His head turned to the two buffoons sitting in the ‘Innocent’ scale. “Regardless, you’ve found yourself lucky to be represented by someone, even if it is a child. If you had been representing yourself, I reasoned you would’ve lost before Ma Beagle even finished her case.”
Scrooge, who had been shocked to see Bradford, stood up.
“Bradford Buzzard!” He shouted in outrage. “What on Earth are you—I thought you would’ve been rotting in jail somewhere or sitting penniless in a cardboard box!”
“Still underestimating me, I see.” Bradford smiled. “I survived, after my company fell apart. It turned out despite it all, with a few leftover ties, a couple more years, and some magical investments, the people who hated you still had enough money and resources to properly press charges.” He frowned. “Let’s hope it pays off.”
He cleared his throat and spoke, “Scrooge McDuck has robbed me of the last fifty years of my life. While I was employed at McDuck Enterprises, Scrooge McDuck had shown me he did not care for the lives of others. He frugally spent his wealth on adventuring, daredevil-like ambition, and his own self-interest.”
Scrooge groaned, and Louie sank into his chair.
“Not this again...” Scrooge bemoaned. “All this work to get me here and you’re still on about my adventuring and the finances of my company?”
Instead of addressing the statements, Bradford proceeded. “I tried to be reasonable. Suggest better uses of company funds, rather than costing Duckburg and the world itself billions of dollars. But he just wasted it.”
Images of Scrooge’s adventures, getting more bombastic and destructive with every next picture, flashed above their heads carefully and methodically. Louie swallowed.
“Again and again. Adventure, he called it. And what of me? While running my own separate company to put a stop to this madness, I had to balance his books and pick up after him—anything Scrooge refused to clean up himself. The last fifty years of my life have been spent fixing Scrooge’s messes, driving myself mad in the process. I admit to all misdeeds I may have committed, but behind each of them, Scrooge McDuck was there. Ruining everything.”
Bradford shook his head solemnly. “All I wanted was order. An end to the chaos that seemed to follow him. It seems I lost that battle. Now all I want is justice. For the years I wasted, and the world I couldn’t save.”
A hush fell over the room as if brought on by Lady Justice herself. Louie killed it, directing his attention to the bailiff. “He can’t kill us in this—um—realm, can he? He killed a lot of people, I just want to be sure.”
Bradford groaned. “It was only three but no. No, I can’t kill you. Even if I could, I have no weapons on me. They made sure before I was let in.”
Sufficiently put off, Louie nodded. “Got it!”
Although, he didn’t feel very safe.
“Alright,” Scrooge said, beckoning Louie closer. “You’ve done well today. You don’t have to argue your way out of this—You’ve seen how pedantic that pitiful peddler is, he already knows every angle because he’s got it in that precious little plan of his. Just stall, that’s all you need to do, lad.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.” Scrooge gave Louie a pat on the back.
Louie slipped out of his seat. “So Bradford... When’d you start working for my uncle?”
“December 17th, 1972. I’d lost my job as a book-keeper two months prior and had been recommended to find work at McDuck Enterprises. They’d been running through advisors over there like tissue paper. I got the job fairly easily, what with SHUSH taking up so much of his attention.”
Louie leaned against the podium. “That sounds like... A pretty good deal. Heading one of the biggest companies in the world, getting paid by the richest duck in the world, and not even having to worry about doing a good job.”
“Not worrying? If McDuck Industries went under, how many jobs would collapse? How many industries would go under? And if one of your uncle’s adventures leveled a city, who did all the paperwork for that? I didn’t ask for the destruction of McDuck Enterprises, all I asked was that he stopped adventuring.”
“And taking everything from him to let him rot in magical prison would change that?”
“No, I suppose not. But then again, I’m not managing the books anymore, am I?”
“You don’t care what Flintheart Glomgold will do with McDuck Industries or what Ma Beagle will do with Duckburg?”
“No. And why should I? As he put it, I’ve already lost and should be destitute, so why not invest in three lunatics and their half-baked scheme to take down Scrooge McDuck? I used to care about what happened to the world and how it was run—Now, I only care about Scrooge McDuck. And I’ll do whatever it takes to destroy him.”
Louie opened his mouth, but Bradford didn’t stop.
“Luckily, Lady Justice doesn’t care about any of that. She cares about what you deserve. ‘Karma,’ so they call it here. This place is only in the business of justice, good and bad. And I’m not a very good person, am I?” His smile curled all the way along his beak. “But Scrooge McDuck just might be worse.”
Bradford settled himself happily, waiting for Louie’s response. When Louie gave none, he spoke unprompted. “Tell me, Llewelyn. What do you know of your uncle that he hasn’t told you? How many lives do you think he’s ruined? A hundred? A thousand? If not mine, who would Scrooge McDuck have been left to rot in that office?”
Louie’s mind swam for an answer, and hastily, he responded, “So you just wasted your time at McDuck Enterprises?! That’s not Scrooge’s fault, that’s your own!”
“Fine, let’s play this game. I ruined my own life, wasting it rectifying Scrooge McDuck’s actions. But I repeat: if not my life, then who’s? The McMullan family whose house was crushed after the Fancy Free Giant fell? Did he even notice them or did he assume it ‘went back into the economy?’ What about those treasures locked up in his vaults? In his money bin? Did he ask those people for them, their priceless artifacts or heirlooms?”
The secret bin, something Louie wasn’t even aware of, flashed above their heads.
“You think he cares about any of them? I rounded up countless when finalizing FOWL, but Scrooge never even glanced at the destruction he caused. But of course, he’s Scrooge McDuck. The world revolves around him. So all of this...”
And again, more of Scrooge’s misdeeds, sleazy tricks or stolen treasures, flashed across the screen.
“Gets swept under the rug. It doesn’t matter. Someone else will pay the price.”
Louie made eyes at Scrooge, who had sunk into his chair by now.
“Oh, don’t look at him,” Bradford said, almost gleefully. “He can’t help you. He can’t even defend himself. In fact...” He paused.
He stepped away from the stand. “We have one plaintiff left. And while I feel pretty confident in my position, it wouldn’t be fair for her to come all the way here.”
The door opened in a billow of purple smoke, and a very world-weary Magica De Spell stepped out. No longer in a brilliant purple dress and staff to match, but a long sleeve t-shirt and a plain black skirt, perhaps she had fully acclimated to being powerless. She looked more like an unhappy, goth librarian than a powerful witch.
Louie’s mind flew in a thousand different directions of how to defend the case from her. He supposed trapping Magica in the dime was wrong but trapping Magica produced Lena, who was ultimately a good. But Bradford wouldn’t present Magica like a shark smelling blood if Louie could so easily write her off.
“Pleasure to meet you all. Again,” Magica said with no pleasure in her heart. She glanced at Louie. “Green one.”
Bradford sat down, and Magica De Spell took the stand.
Unlike Bradford who seemed to be relishing in his own plan, there was no glee to her, no malice or characteristic joy—even her sneer was not that of a bitter rival—but a woman who truly, out of everyone, believed Scrooge McDuck ruined her life. And with the smallest of movements, Louie looked back at his uncle. Scrooge was petrified, halfway sunk into his chair.
Louie tried to keep composure.
“Scrooge McDuck and I have had a long, weathered history together. He held me captive in a dime, stripped me of my powers, turned my own niece against me, condemned me to a swamp, and that’s only been within the last twenty years or so.” She laughed. “Oh, there are so many charges I could press against Scrooge McDuck...” She traced her hand along the wood corners of the stand. “But out of all of them—there’s one that I can never seem to forget.”
“Let me tell you the story of Poe De Spell.”
Louie held his neck, finding no words, sound, nothing. Magica was the picture of indifference, merely spelling out a case in court. “That was... At least seventy years ago. Maybe a hundred, I’ve lost track. After that, it was just a blur. I spent decades looking for Poe, exhausting myself in the process—until I gave up and went home. And found out that filthy adventurer who’d let them go had become the richest duck in the world behind my back. So I decided to cut my losses and try to kill him instead. If I’d given up sooner, maybe we wouldn’t be here today.” She smiled. Worn and weary but somehow almost wry still.
Louie’s head was spinning.
Impartiality. This is not your uncle. Scrooge McDuck is your client. You are...
He stumbled to the front of the room, planning to just talk, but—He couldn’t think. In spite of himself, he turned and looked at his uncle, speaking as Louie Duck. “You didn’t stop them. Uncle Scrooge, why didn’t you stop them?”
Uncle Scrooge didn’t look at him. He just kept talking.
“That money. You gave the money back to the townspeople, right?”
Scrooge didn’t respond.
“You helped someone right?”
Uncle Scrooge did nothing. Louie didn’t want to look at his uncle anymore.
This is a client. “Well... That was... How long ago did you say that was?”
“I’ve lost count,” Magica said plainly. “Maybe seventy years. Maybe not.”
Bradford leaned forward, pressing himself on his hands. “I’m sure you had something in mind, Llewelyn. Something about her dime, about her niece—Go ahead.”
“No, I’d rather you not.” Magica pressed her hand to her head, as if the idea of Lena or that dime was already giving her a migraine.
Louie stammered more. Bradford kept going. “Or I supposed you could say she ‘deserved it,’ fooling with magic and all.”
“No, I...” He stammered, unable to find his footing. Fuck, he couldn’t do this.
In a flourish, Scrooge erupted into gold and landed in the scale labelled ‘Guility.’ Louie froze. “That’s—That’s not fair! I haven’t presented my case!”
“Do you even have a case, Llewelyn?” Bradford asked. “If he’s up there, you must’ve given up. Someone did.”
“But I wasn’t! That—” Scrooge was wrong, all of this was wrong, but Louie wasn't ready to condemn him. But someone must've. He stepped away from Bradford to get a good look at Scrooge, who didn’t look betrayed or even seem to see Louie. He just sat there with his head in his hands, crumbled in on himself.
He gave up.
Bradford took out his packet again, flipped through it to the back as if he were proud of himself. He was about to read out the damages.
Louie needed an angle. This wasn’t a normal courtroom, meaning they didn’t have to play by normal rules. He hurriedly blurted out, “I want to re-negotiate the damages!”
Bradford looked at him as if he didn’t believe him.
“You captured us here with no prior knowledge of the upcoming case, of the charges, of any of that, and... And you think that’s just—or fair? Fuck legality. You cornered us into this.” It was the least manipulative he’d been all day. “You’re not getting the deed to the mansion or the town or any of that, my uncle’s not rotting in magic jail, we’re making a compromise.”
There was silence in the room as Magica and Bradford stared at him. She stepped forward. “Is he seriously asking us to—”
In that same flash of light, Magica disappeared and landed on ‘Guilty,’ and Louie held his hand out to Bradford. “You got me. Scrooge McDuck is not a good person. His actions don’t outweigh his positives. But I think there’s still some good he can do for the people he’s wronged—where he’s not penniless and ruined. Or worse.”
“What did you have in mind?” There was a skepticism in Bradford’s voice as he leaned down to Louie’s level.
“We get the Beagle family out of the junkyard, if she wants to leave. Glomgold...” He looked back up at the ‘Scottish’ duck, watching in curiosity. “Gets his reputation back. Make him the man he ‘wants’ to be.” It didn’t seem to please Glomgold, which made sense when you compared that what he wanted in the first place. But it seemed most appropriate for what the ‘damages’ were.
“And we find Poe De Spell.” Magica turned around. “I don’t... I don’t know if we’ll find him. I don’t know how either. But it’s the least we can do.”
Bradford stared at Louie in shock. Maybe at the fact Louie articulated all that, maybe that Louie thought he would ever agree to it. With Bradford not responding, Louie addressed all three of the other plaintiffs. “This is your case too. Do you agree to these stipulations?”
Ma Beagle grumbled something, Glomgold seemed to seriously consider this, and Magica, for all her exhaustion, said loud enough for Louie to hear, “It’ll suffice.”
With Magica’s compliance, Ma Beagle begrudgingly followed. “Yeah, alright.” She lunged forward, rattling the scale. “But I want a nice place, got it?!”
Louie nodded, his heart still beating out of his ears. Ma Beagle then looked at Glomgold, who groaned and leaned over the scale’s edge. “Alright, I accept—”
As he said this, the scale tipped over, and he sprawled forward several feet. “AAUAUAUAGHHH—”
Louie turned back to Bradford. “They have a deal. And all you wanted was retribution.” He held out his hand again, taking in Bradford’s glowering frown. “They’re your plaintiffs.”
Somehow, they shook on it. As their hands locked, Bradford yanked Louie forward, whispering in his ear. “I’ll see you back here, Llewelyn. As long as your uncle has enemies, as long as your uncle breathes, I have a case.”
He let go, pushing Louie back, and Lady Justice nodded.
The bailiff, seeing this situation satisfied, spoke. “It is decreed by the Karmic Court, that Scrooge McDuck will find Poe DeSpell, regain Glomgold’s popularity, and relocate the Beagle family.”
As if it never existed, the Karmic Court faded away, and Louie and Scrooge were rising the elevator back to the parking lot of the money bin.
“Hey Mr. McDee!” Launchpad said, the limo pulling in. “You told me to come get you at sunset, so here I am! At sunset!”
Scrooge stuttered, his eyes readjusting and his head swiveling back and forth. “We were gone six hours?”
At this admission, Louie began to laugh. He laughed so hard his stomach hurt. He laughed so hard he couldn’t breathe.
Launchpad and Scrooge both helped him into the car, Louie still laughing until his chest began to heave in fits. They didn’t leave the parking lot until they were sure he could breathe again. Louie didn’t talk. He didn’t think. He just stared out the window and tried to pretend he wasn’t Scrooge McDuck’s nephew. That Scrooge McDuck was some fancy billionaire who lived in a mansion they’d never touch. That he was maybe, living on a houseboat in the harbor of Duckburg.
Those dreams were washed away as Scrooge broke the silence. “You ah...I know that wasn’t... That wasn’t on you to fix, lad. I’m sorry.”
Louie didn’t respond.
“But you know, that was the sharpest I’ve ever seen you. I’m proud of you, Louie.”
They didn’t speak for the rest of the ride. Louie, same as before, slipped out of the car and went for the door.
“Ayyy!” Della said as Louie burst in. “Mrs. Beakley and Donald are fighting in the kitchen, so—”
Louie walked past, not even looking up.
Scrooge watched, that same look of despair he always wore in times like this. So, so many times. Della watched with him before finally turning back to Scrooge as the door slammed. “What... Happened?”
Louie pried open the secret compartment in the middle of the room. It’d been raided so many times, by Goldie, by himself—he kept refilling it. He kept remaking businesses or new startups. He kept telling himself he could be Scrooge McDuck.
He grabbed a bag and started shoving everything inside, everything had to go.
Face it, Scrooge McDuck acts in his own self-interest.
Louie Duck didn’t know who Scrooge McDuck was three years ago. Three years ago, he would’ve sold out Uncle Scrooge for a fraction of the cost of that stupid case. He would’ve sold him out for the McDuck fortune itself. But now...
Louie threw the fake plank back in place haphazardly, not even watching if it fell back into place. He wasn’t Scrooge McDuck, he wasn’t Louie McDuck. And if this was who Scrooge McDuck was? He would never be a McDuck.