Jan 8
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no more hyperfixation posting have my special interest instead
Part 2, Chapter 1
Content Warnings: References to sexual harassment.
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“Alright, we’re live in thirty seconds. Everyone ready?”
“Ready.”
“Ready.”
“Whu- crap, I was just about to have a smoke!”
“Should’ve done that during the break. Roxanne, are you good?”
“Just getting my hair straight… alright, good.”
“Okay, people, we’re on in… ten… nine… eight… seven… six… five…”
Silence befell the studio as the last few numbers were counted silently.
Suddenly, bombastic music flooded the studio, as a loud voice said over a loudspeaker, “And now! Channel Three News, with reporter Roxanne Featherly!”
The lights suddenly blazed on, revealing a desk standing before a large blue screen emblazoned with the Channel Three symbol. Sitting at the desk, dressed in a neat grey dress and jacket, was a green-feathered duck with long blonde hair-feathers and a pleasant, neutral smile upon her beak.
“Good evening.” She spoke to the camera in front of her. “Tonight’s program is all about Duckberg’s most wealthy. Scrooge McDuck sets sail for adventure once again! Glomgold Industries no longer a Glomgold business! And what’s become of Mark Beaks? All this and more, on Channel Three News!”
The bombastic music resumed, and Roxanne let her posture relax for a moment. From behind the cameras, she heard her producer say, “Alright, that’s good. Fifteen seconds for the intro.”
She glanced in his direction irritably. “Can you remind me why we can’t just play the intro sequence at the start, so we don’t have to do this on-off crap every night?” She asked.
“And we’re going back on in three… two…”
Roxanne rolled her eyes, then straightened her back as the cameras resumed rolling. “Our first story this evening concerns Duckburg’s wealthiest citizen – Scrooge McDuck.” She began to read the teleprompter in front of her.
Behind her, the screen faded out to reveal a picture of the old trillionaire, surrounded by his family. At the bottom of the screen was a caption that read, ‘McDuck and family, taken after their victory over the Moonlander leader’.
“Love him or hate him, Mr McDuck has made a name for himself over the years as a successful venture capitalist stroke treasure hunter, with his expeditions funding many of Duckburg’s amenities and business endeavours.” Roxanne continued. “Four years ago, however, this flow of donations slowed to a trickle, as the family seemed to stop adventuring altogether for unknown reasons. At the time, Mr McDuck claimed that they were merely ‘taking a break’ from treasure hunting as the constant expeditions were ‘putting strain on his family life’. It very much seemed like the family was prepared to settle down as the years went by with no word on whether they were going to start adventuring again – until now.”
The screen behind her changed again, revealing a photo of a glorious gold and purple cloak, presented in a glass case. Roxane swivelled her chair toward a different camera.
“Pictured here is the Tyrian Cloak, an artifact that McDuck and family recovered from an ancient Phoenician temple about four weeks ago. With this, and several other recent donations to the Duckburg Museum of Antiquity, it seems as if the family has resumed their expeditions, finding treasure, fighting monsters, and solving mysteries. We reached out to the McDuck family for an interview on what had prompted this sudden change of heart, but as usual, they declined.”
Roxanne turned back towards the original camera. “Public reactions have been mixed. Many citizens of Duckburg still remember the ‘beanstalk incident’ from six years ago, and there are concerns that McDuck’s reckless thrill-seeking will once again bring havoc and disruption to Duckburg. Others worry that McDuck Enterprises will once again prioritise funding the billionaire’s expeditions over funding the city. These concerns were raised in the mayor’s press release earlier today.”
The screen changed again, this time showing a video clip. In the centre of the clip was a large, fat pig in a dark suit and green tie, with frayed white hair, mutton chops, and a bald spot upon his head. His bushy grey eyebrows were narrowed at the dozen or so microphones arranged before him, and he looked generally frazzled and clueless. The caption at the bottom of the screen read, ‘Jeremiah Hogwilde, Mayor of Duckburg’.
“Is it true that Mr McDuck is going to cut funding to the Water and Electric company?” Said the voice of an off-screen reporter.
“Mr McDuck has not informed me of any such plans…” Mayor Hogwilde replied.
“What is your opinion on Mr McDuck’s recent expeditions and the possibility of resulting disruption to the city?” Another reporter asked.
“I have no-”
“Do you think the city will be able to get by without McDuck’s funding?”
“I- of course, that’s-”
“Are there any plans to keep the city operating alongside Mr McDuck’s adventuring?”
“Alright, can we get something straight here?” Hogwilde snapped irritably. “Scrooge McDuck does not run this city. I do.” He asserted, jamming a finger at himself.
There was a very long pause.
Then, from off-screen, all the reporters burst into uncontrollable laughter. Roxanne herself chuckled in amusement before clearing her throat and sitting straight again as the clip came to its end.
“Others are more optimistic, saying that McDuck’s new ventures could give Duckburg a well-needed economic boost.” Roxanne continued. “Still others are wary and wish to wait and see how it plays out. This reporter, for one, is eager to see what kind of exciting misadventures this mysterious family gets up to in the future!”
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“…There are three components to phloem structures - the sieve plates, the sieve tube, and the companion cells. Each of these components work to facilitate the translocation of sugars and amino acids around the plant…”
Webby leaned forward on her lab desk, staring ahead blankly with her head resting on her hand. From the front of the classroom, Mr Baxter droned on in a flat monotone. The aged, tweed-suited white duck was writing down notes on the whiteboard as he talked. Around the classroom, Webby could see the rest of the class struggling to pay attention as well, with the people at the very back looking like they were about to fall asleep.
She tried to focus, she really did. But it was so aggressively dull, and she knew that she would get the exact same information from the textbook.
Looking around, she saw one of the boys in the row in front of her was ignoring the teacher entirely, instead focused on the open textbook in front of him. Deciding that he had the right idea, Webby reached forward for her own copy and started flipping through to the right page.
It was right as she found the right page that she heard, “Miss Vanderquack.”
Webby looked up to see Mr Baxter glaring directly at her. Her face flushed as she felt every pair of eyes in the room turn to her.
“I have to request that you put the book away and pay attention to the lesson.” Baxter told her sternly.
“…I’m just reading the textbook…” Webby tried to explain.
“The textbook is not the one giving the lesson. I am.” Baxter replied coldly. “Pay attention, please.”
So what? It’s okay for him to do it, but it’s not okay for me?
Webby bit back the retort as she glared back at the wizened old teacher, closing the book without breaking eye contact with him.
“…Good.” Baxter nodded curtly before turning back around to the whiteboard. “Now, as I was saying, the sieve element cells are defined by their rigid cell walls, which help to facilitate-”
A loud snort suddenly erupted from the desk behind Webby, and she winced as Baxter’s gaze slowly turned in her direction, though it thankfully was directed at the individual behind her.
“…Do you have something to share with the rest of the class, Dylan?” Baxter growled.
“Heh… no sir. Nothing at all.” Said the obnoxious boy that Webby tried to pretend wasn’t behind her.
The old teacher glared at everyone in the room. “…If I hear one more interruption, you’re all staying behind.” He said threateningly. “Do not test me.”
Any quiet whispering immediately fell silent at the threat. Baxter let the warning sink in for a little longer before he slowly returned to his lecture.
Not even a minute later, just as Webby’s eyes were starting to glaze over, a folded piece of paper flew over her shoulder and landed on her desk, and she blinked in surprise. Turning around, she immediately figured out who’d thrown it – a brown-feathered duck from the desk behind her, sporting a large chin, a gelled-over hairdo, and a red sports jersey. He smirked and winked at her, sending an unpleasant feeling crawling down her spine.
She turned around and tried to ignore him, focusing instead on the mercifully ignorant Mr Baxter. The morbid curiosity started to get to her though, and against her better judgement, she opened up the note while Mr Baxter was busy drawing a diagram of some kind, and read it.
Ive got something rigid I’d like to share with you.
Webby hated Biology.
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The second Webby was out of class, she went to go and find Lena. She could always make Webby feel better after a bad day. A quick text conversation revealed that she was at the teacher’s parking lot, and Webby immediately beelined towards it. She found her leaning against a wall on her phone, wearing a black hoodie over her blue singlet. She turned towards Webby as she approached, smiling at her.
“Hey, Pink.” She said in that casual way that made Webby’s heart flutter.
“Hey.” Webby replied, hiding her nerves as usual. “How was last period?”
“Eh. Pretty dull.” Lena replied casually as she typed out something on her phone. “Piano teacher called in sick today, so I was just doing scales by myself for an hour. You?”
Webby reached into her jacket pockets, fishing out the note that Dylan had thrown at her and handing it to her. Frowning, Lena put her phone away and took the note, unfolding it and reading the contents.
Lena stared at the note for a long time.
“…Huh.” She said slowly. “…Is this the same guy as before? Dylan… whatever his name was?”
“Yeah.” Webby sighed miserably.
“Why’d you keep the note?”
Webby leaned against the wall next to Lena as she replied. “I’m gonna show it to Granny. Hopefully, she can intimidate the principal into moving me to another Bio class… not that’ll make any difference.” She muttered bitterly. “Every year, it feels like I have deal with guys like that. And the worst thing is that I can’t just punch them to make them stop, because then I’m the one who gets in trouble!”
“…I could pay him a visit.” Lena murmured quietly, her eyes flashing an arcane blue as she glared at the piece of paper. “That’d make sure he doesn’t bother you again.”
“Aw… that’s so sweet.” Webby smiled at her fleetingly. “But… no. I don’t want you getting into trouble for my sake.”
“…Urgh.” Lena grunted with disgust, handing the note back to her. “This is why I hate high school. If it’s not crappy teachers or schoolyard politics, it’s that shit.”
“Tell me about it. I’d prefer Tabatha’s name-calling over dealing with guys like Dylan.”
“God, don’t remind me of Tabatha.” Lena shook her head. “That girl’s a cow.”
“I just don’t understand why the boys and I still have to do this.” Webby complained. “I mean, we’re going on adventures again! Can’t we just learn to explore better or something?”
“Oh yeah, you guys have been doing that, huh?” Lena said, eyebrow raised. “How’s that been going?”
Webby immediately brightened up. “Oh, it’s been amazing! Just last week, we went to Pompeii to search for a piece of this ancient magic ring that a Roman emperor stole from a Gaulish king!”
“Woah.”
“I know! Turns out, it had been taken by fire giants that were living underneath Mount Vesuvius! And we had to go through their caves and fight them to recover the ring and stop an evil plot to cause the mountain to erupt!”
“Crazy.” Lena replied with a smirk, well-used to Webby’s vivid descriptions. “And Green’s been holding up okay through it?”
“Louie? Yeah, he’s been…” Webby smiled. “I mean… he’s better. I don’t know how else to put it. He’s been smiling more, he’s talking to us again, he’s just… better. All of the boys are.”
“That’s great to hear.” Lena replied, a genuine smile on her face now. “I think it’s been good for you as well. I haven’t seen you this happy for a while.”
“Yeah… school’s been hard… but it’s okay now, because we’re back!” Webby jumped off the wall and leapt onto one of the nearby cars in excitement. “McDuck and family, adventuring again like we never stopped!”
“Uh… Webby…”
“Jerks like Dylan, Tabatha, Mr Baxter… they can say whatever they want, because they don’t matter! We’ve fought mummies, and super spies, and we’re not gonna-!”
“Webbigail.”
Webby spun around to her left, facing an older woman in a red blouse, a yellow-orange skirt, her grey headfeathers tied back into a bun.
“Please get off of my car.” The woman said with a tired expression.
“Sorry Mrs Brookfeather.” Webby squeaked.
She quickly climbed back down, face flushed red with embarrassment, and the two teenagers swiftly left the carpark. They made their way to the main gates of the school as the crowd of homegoing students began to disperse.
“…So.” Lena said, stretching her arms behind her back. “I think I figured out a way to get back at Dylan.”
Webby looked up at her hopefully. “Yeah?”
“Like, we can’t really hurt him without getting in trouble with the school or his parents… but I do happen to know that he recently got a brand-new car, like, a pitch-black classic that his dad gave him. Apparently, he loves it so much that he got mad at one of his asshole jock friends just for touching it.”
Lena traced a finger in the air in front of her, opening up a small, circular portal. She reached inside and pulled out a neon pink spray can, shaking it with an evil grin. “I think a couple sprays of this will get him to think twice about writing you any more notes. Wanna help out?”
Webby felt her heart melting in affection. This was why she loved Lena. It didn’t matter what had made Webby upset, be it family drama, school problems or general unhappiness… she always wanted to help. She always knew what to do to make her happy.
She always made it better.
With a tender smile, Webby replied softly, “…Yeah.”
Chapter 6: Dewey
Wildwood Mall had become the place where the young liked to hang out after school, browsing the various stores, chatting, and occasionally visiting the semi-vacant arcade. They hit up the usual suspects – first, the video game store, followed by the bookstore. The fitness shop was briefly explored, mainly for Dewey’s benefit, and then finally, the food court. Huey and Webby went to their usual outlets, while Dewey… well, he liked to mix it up whenever he came here.
His basic strategy was to meander about, wandering from food joint to food joint, before coming to rest at whatever place he stopped at. He didn’t really have any places that he really liked or really hated. Almost every place had at least one item that he liked, or something that was worth at least a try. He went simple today, getting a box of thick-cut chips underneath a pile of beef strips and sauce. He realised too late that it was going to be too much food for him and took the food with what he hoped was a well-hidden wince.
He made his way over to the table the four of them were sitting at, idly eating his chips while he walked. He could see Huey sitting on one end, hunched over a tray of Japanese food, and Webby on the other end, a half-eaten burger in her hands. Without even hearing their conversation, he could tell that they were talking about Louie. He could see the tenseness in Huey’s shoulders, and the unsettled look on his face.
As he got closer, he picked up bits of Huey’s conversation with her. “…just can’t help but worry about him. I know he doesn’t want me to but… he really doesn’t make it easy.”
“He ruhlly dernt talm muh.” Webby said, her mouth full of burger. When Huey gave her a questioning look, she paused, swallowed, then repeated herself. “He doesn’t really talk much. About himself, y’know? So, we don’t know what’s going on with him.”
“No… we don’t.” Huey muttered.
“Hey, guys!” Dewey said as he took a seat next to Webby. “We talkin’ about Louie?”
Huey’s eyes widened as he saw the lunch Dewey had ordered. “What is that?”
Dewey shrugged, taking a plastic fork out of his pocket and digging in. “It’s… called a snack pack, or something.”
Webby looked at the meal uneasily. “That stuff looks like it’s half grease, half salt.”
“I am horrified that you’re eating that.” Huey said, aghast.
“Hey, I have the right to eat what I want without fear of judgement.” Dewey told him, shoving his fork into the mass of carbs and salt. “Same way that Louie shouldn’t have to think that we’re talking about him behind his back.”
Huey looked away. Dewey chewed on his food quickly, then gulped it down.
“Look,” Dewey continued once his beak was empty. “He told you himself that he doesn’t want you looking over his shoulder all the time, right? So, maybe the first step is to stop talking about him so much.”
His red-clothed sibling looked back at him, this time with a glare. “Aren’t you scared for him?” He demanded. “Just a little bit?”
“Yeah, I’m scared!” Dewey replied. “I’m scared that if we keep making him mad, he’s going to hate us or something!” He jabbed his fork back into his food. “I don’t want that.”
“I think Dewey’s right.” Webby said, shrugging. “…Kind of. If we keep doing things that he’s told us not to do, then he’s just going to get angry. And that’s not going to help him get better.”
“…Fine.” Huey sighed, poking his food with a set of wooden chopsticks. “I just… hate feeling so useless.”
“I know, man.” Dewey replied quietly. “In my experience, though? The best way to make him feel better is to give him something to do, you know?”
“Hence that sports-star thing you were talking about this morning.” Huey said.
“Bingo. Ask him to help out, get you things…” He gestured to Webby. “Like, Webby, you could ask him to get concert tickets or something for your first date with Lena.”
Webby’s eyes went wide and she immediately choked on the mouthful of burger in her mouth. Huey double blinked and leant back, confused. “First- sorry, their what?”
“…You know, when they start going out?” Dewey clarified.
“Don’t you think that’s a bit premature?” Huey asked as Webby coughed beside him.
“Nah, dude.” Dewey replied confidently. “It’s just a matter of time. Webby’s already told me that she has a crush on her.”
Webby finished recovering, looking at Dewey in horrified fury. “Dewey!”
“I already know.” Huey told her. “You’re very easy to read.”
Webby spluttered for a moment, then groaned and laid her head on the table, a dark red blush spreading underneath her feathers.
“You really need to ask her out, dude.” Dewey said casually, shoving some more meat and chips into his beak. “All this ‘will-they-won’t-they’ stuff is driving me crazy.”
“No, I- I can’t!” Webby stammered. “She doesn’t even know I like her! Heck, I don’t even know if she likes me!”
“Course she does! All you need to do is go up to her-!”
“Dewey…” Huey started to say.
“-Tell her ‘hey, Lena, I’m in super-crazy-love with you-’”
“No!” Webby yelped. “No, no, that’s- that’s not- I can’t do that!”
“Sure you can!” Dewey told her confidently. “I’ve seen you backflip onto rampaging dire wolves, you can totally ask a girl out!”
“No offence, Dewey,” Huey said anxiously. “But I don’t think you’re the most… qualified to be giving romance advice.”
Dewey blinked confusedly. “I- What? How am I not qualified? I’ve asked, like, a dozen girls out before!”
“How many said yes?”
“Not the point. The point is that I know how this dating stuff works, inside and out.”
“…Mm-hm.” Huey gave his brother an unimpressed look before turning to Webby and saying warmly, “Well, I think that we should wait for something to develop naturally over time.”
“But it could take so long!” Dewey complained.
“Love isn’t something you can just rush into, Dewey.” Huey told him. “You have to let it grow, let it bloom into something.”
“Y-yeah, what… what Huey’s saying.” Webby chuckled nervously, picking her burger back up. “Let’s not do or say anything to Lena! Let’s just wait!”
“…Fine.” Dewey grumbled, getting back into his lunch.
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The three young ducks arrived home late in the afternoon, taking the bus to the base of Killmotor Hill and then taking the trek all the way to the top, where the gates of McDuck Manor stood. Making their way inside, they found themselves in the foyer, greeting the ghostly form of Ducksworth as he dusted the chandelier high above. Sitting on the bottom stairs at the other end of the room was Louie, chewing on a chocolate bar.
“Hey, bro!” Dewey greeted him as they approached him. “How did that thing with Scrooge go?”
“Surprisingly fruitful, actually.” Louie replied, standing up to look at them fully. “Uh, before you guys get comfortable, could you meet me in the TV room?”
The other three teenagers slowed to a halt, looking at Louie in confusion and curiosity. “…Why?” Huey asked.
“Eh.” Louie just shrugged, an enigmatic smile on his face. “Scrooge just had something he wanted to talk to us kids about.”
“Oh! Shouldn’t we wait for May and June, then?” Webby piped up.
“Uh, I think they’re hanging out with school friends, or… something like that.” Louie replied dismissively. “They’ll be out for a while, at any rate.”
“…Oh. That’s, uh… yeah, fair enough.” Webby mumbled, looking away.
They followed Louie into the TV room, leaving their bags by the doorway as they did. When they entered the room, they collectively did a double take, as the room was not in its usual state. A great big map of the Mediterranean was draped across the table, a large red ‘X’ marked near its eastern coast, and a strange protrusion in its centre. A whiteboard stood in front of the television, a floor plan of some kind of building sketched upon it. Scrooge stood in front of the board, a large black marker in his hand and a focused expression on his face.
“…Woah.” Dewey said blankly. “What’s going on in here?”
Scrooge whirled around, a grin forming across his beak the moment he saw them. “Kids! Glad to see yeh! Come, take a seat!”
The teenagers slowly sat down on the couch, unsure of what exactly was happening, while Louie leaned on the couch arm, still sporting a mysterious smirk. A faint idea started to form at the back of Dewey’s head as he looked at the floor plan upon the whiteboard.
It reminded him of a temple.
“Tell me, kids,” Scrooge began to say, a familiar excitement burning behind his spectacles. “What do you know of the ancient kingdom of Phoenicia?”
“Phoenicia?” Huey replied thoughtfully. “Not much. They were a trade civilisation that emerged during the late Bronze Age, but that’s about it.”
“Yeah, they didn’t leave many artifacts or ruins behind them.” Webby added.
“Ah, but they left one!” Scrooge told them. “A temple, built on an island just off the coast of Byblos, dedicated to their thunder god, Baal Hadad!”
“Fun fact,” Louie interjected, causing the other three to look at him. “This place has some kind of magic stuff that makes it look destroyed to anyone who doesn’t have a special stone tablet.”
Dewey blinked. “Huh?”
“And we just happen to have one such tablet, right here!” Scrooge said dramatically, grabbing the map on the table and throwing it off with a flourish.
Upon the table, previously obscured by the map, was a large, heavy stone tablet. Inscribed upon this tablet were a number of strange, geometric symbols that looked like something between Nordic runes and ancient Greek, each glowing with a deep purple light. The three kids leaned forward, enraptured by the artifact.
“Within this temple, there is rumour that a cloak of gold and silk rests within its confines,” Scrooge continued, drawing their attention back to him. “Whomever dons this cloak becomes invincible – unable to be harmed or touched by any physical or magical threats!” He stood up straight, brushing his coat. “I’m thinkin’ of a hangin’ it on the mantle.”
Dewey stared at Scrooge, excitement growing at the pit of his stomach as he slowly began to understand. Beside him, Webby leaned further, a grin slowly forming on her beak.
“…Wait…” Huey said slowly.
“…Are you saying…” Dewey said excitedly.
Webby leapt off the couch and shot forward, glee written across her face. “Are we going on an adventure?” She shrieked, so quickly that it was almost all one word.
“That we are!” Scrooge declared, thrusting his cane into the air. “This weekend, the five of us shall uncover the last secrets of Phoenicia!”
There was a pause, then the room erupted into cheer. Webby leapt across the table and grappled Scrooge in a bear hug, with Dewey following soon thereafter. “Thank you!” She cried. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!”
“Thank you so much!” Dewey said simultaneously, hugging him as well.
“Aak!” Scrooge winced as Webby crushed him in her grip. “Y-yeh welcome, kids.”
“But- but this is crazy!” Dewey said as he stepped back. “I was just telling my friends today that we don’t adventure anymore! We’re really doing this?”
“Aye, lad.”
“…Intact Phoenician ruins?” Huey murmured, a slow smile spreading across his beak as well. “But that’s… that’s incredible!” He leapt off the couch. “The knowledge that could be uncovered… it’d fill so many gaps in Western history!”
“Forget that!” Dewey exclaimed. “Think about the crazy awesome traps to avoid in that place!”
“We could fight so many monsters in that place!” Webby gushed. “Like golems, or- or ghosts, or skeletons!”
“Personally,” Louie interjected, still leaning on the couch. “The golden cloak is what really cinched it for me.
There was a pause as everyone turned to look at him. Dewey’s grin slipped as he realised he’d completely forgotten about Louie.
“…Wait…” Huey said, concernedly. “Are you okay with this?”
Louie shrugged nonchalantly. “Sure.
“…Are you sure?” Huey asked uncertainly. “I- we don’t want you to do this just because we want to do this-”
“Relax.” Louie insisted, walking up and putting an arm around Huey’s shoulder. “We wouldn’t be doing this at all if I wasn’t one-hundred percent okay with this.”
Huey didn’t seem completely convinced. Scrooge stepped forward and put a hand on his shoulder. “What happened in Mexico will never happen again.” He told him gently, before turning to the rest of them. “That’s my promise to all of you. This is a fresh start. There’ll be no more tragedies from here on out!”
Everyone’s smiles began to return to their beaks, filled with relief and excitement.
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The rest of the evening was a buzz of excitement and anticipation. All anyone in the house was talking about was the new adventure. Huey was sprouting facts about Phoenicia, Louie was asking Scrooge for estimates on how much this cloak would be worth, and Dewey found himself daydreaming of scenes from the action movies he’d watched, except with himself in place of the main character. This time, instead of a distant fantasy, it felt like a real glimpse of the future.
Webby was the most excited about the trip. She had borrowed the sketched-out map of the temple, a few notes and the tablet itself, and was doggedly studying all of it. She couldn’t sit still or stop talking about it. Dewey couldn’t remember the last time she’d seemed so… happy.
Towards the end of the evening, after dinner, Webby took Dewey by the hand and dragged him down the corridor as he was heading to bed. When he questioned why, she turned to him with a grin and said, “We have a second grapple hook in the garage!”
Dewey’s eyes lit up. “Woah… I could have a grapple hook!”
“I know!” Webby squealed. “I’ve always wanted to teach you how to use it, but we didn’t have two until last year!”
“Yeah! Let’s find it!” Dewey said enthusiastically. As they quickly darted toward the garage, Dewey suddenly said, “Oh! Is there a spare set of night goggles?”
Webby gasped. “Oh my gosh! I was thinking the same thing!”
“Right? We can both be, like, spies! Like from that… Splinter Gear game, or whatever it’s called. We’ll scout out the temple in stealth mode, and then come back to the others and tell them, like, the optimal route for infiltration!”
The two young ducks slowed to a stop before the door to the garage. Webby turned to Dewey, her smile flickering for just a moment. “I… don’t know if stealth mode is really your thing.” She said awkwardly.
“Eh, probably not.” Dewey shrugged. “But it’ll be cool to have anyway.”
They opened the door into the garage, light pouring into its cluttered confines. Even though most of its previous contents had been moved to the Duckburg Museum, the room was still cluttered with boxes of junk and adventuring gear that had been shoved in the garage over the years and eventually forgotten about. They got to work immediately, searching around and digging through the miscellaneous knick-knacks that were stored here.
“I can’t believe this is actually happening!” Webby said enthusiastically as they searched the place. “We’re finally doing what we’re supposed to be doing!”
“Yeah, I know.” Dewey agreed, pulling open a chest and peering inside. “I’m still in, like, complete shock.” He turned to her as she investigated a box on the other side of the room. “Hey, should we invite people?”
Webby looked over to him. “Like, Lena and Vi?”
“Yeah, and like… maybe some school friends, like the guys from my baseball team.”
“Uh…” Webby returned her attention to the box she was looking through. “I think our adventures might be a bit intense for them.”
“You sure? I mean, I know Simon isn’t the greatest batter, but…”
Webby turned back towards Dewey with a sceptical look. “Your friends are sport guys, Dewey. Not adventurers.” She returned to the box. “Besides, it’ll be easier for us to get back into shape if it’s a small team, you know?”
“…Yeah. Good point.” Dewey went to search through the chest, talking over his shoulder as he did. “Man, we need to go over all of our old moves again. I don’t even remember how we used to do all those- woah.”
He blinked and stepped back as he laid eyes on the object he’d pulled out from the chest. Webby stopped what she was doing and walked over, looking over his shoulder.
“Woah.” She parroted.
Before them, sitting on the pile of miscellaneous pieces of equipment, was an old, tarnished revolver.
“That must be Scrooge’s old revolver!” Webby said in a hushed voice. “I didn’t know he still had it!”
Gingerly, Dewey reached out and took the weapon by the cylinder, taking it out of the box and holding it in his hands. It was an old model, that was for sure. It looked like it had come fresh from one of those eighties action movies, with the brown leather grip and the dark steel body.
Once he’d made the comparison, a different image entered his head – a sudden vision of himself, wearing a leather jacket and a wide brimmed fedora, the revolver in one hand and a bullwhip in the other.
“…Webby…” He said slowly, turning around to look at her. “…I just had the best idea.”
“…What?” She asked.
He held up the gun with a grin. “I could be Ford Windfall.”
Webby’s eyes widened. “From The Jungle of Perilous Peril?”
“Yeah! And The Seekers of the Crimson Chalice!”
“Ohmygosh!” Webby gasped, her hands flying to her face. “I can see it! You can, like, swing in on a whip or on the grapple hook, and beat bad guys up, face-to-face…”
“Yeah, and you can take them down from the shadows, like a ninja!”
“That’d work so well! We’d be an even better duo than we used to be!”
“Yeah, and I can, like, shoot them! In the legs and stuff!” Dewey said enthusiastically, swinging the gun into his hand and pointing it at a nearby dummy. “Or I could even shoot their own guns out of their hands, or shoot ropes to make heavy things fall on them… man, this thing is heavier than it looks.” He remarked with a frown. He turned back to Webby and asked, “You think it’s loaded?”
Webby opened her beak.
Then, she closed it.
She slowly looked between the gun and Dewey, the excitement fading from her face and being replaced with a troubled expression.
“…Maybe check with Scrooge if you’re allowed to have it, first.” She suggested warily.
“Oh, right.” Dewey shoved the gun into his jacket pocket.
“Like, you could seriously hurt someone if…”
“No, I get it, I get it. Let’s, uh… let’s just find the grapple hook, first.”
A few more minutes of searching was spent, but to no avail. Disappointed, but not disheartened, the two ducks left the garage, Webby promising to ask Mrs Beakley in the morning. They bid each other goodnight and then left for their rooms. Dewey was about halfway to his room before he remembered about the revolver in his pocket, and then turned around to get to Scrooge’s office.
As he walked down the old halls, he went over what he was going to say in his head. It was more than likely that Scrooge would flat-out tell him that he couldn’t have the revolver, that it was too dangerous for a kid like him to have, or something like that. But the idea of completing the ‘rugged adventurer’ look had suddenly become very appealing for him. However he said this, he had to frame it in a way that would make him look responsible.
Eventually, the door to his uncle’s office was in sight. He swallowed his nervousness and approached.
As he got closer, he slowed down. He could hear people speaking inside.
In fact, he was pretty sure he could hear Uncle Donald.
Slowly, stealthily, he made his way towards the door. He put the side of his head against its wooden frame, trying to listen in.
“…hiding this from us, only telling us when you’ve told the kids and gotten them excited-!” He could hear Donald quacking furiously.
“Calm down, Donald-” Scrooge’s voice said.
“No! Not this time!” Donald snapped. “This isn’t happening! No way! Not after what happened last time!”
“This won’t be anythin’ like last time!” Scrooge snapped.
“Donald, calm down!” Della’s voice spoke up from within the room. “Look, the kids need this, alright? They need a good adventure to-”
“How can you say that?” Donald almost shouted. “Have you forgotten what a ‘good adventure’ did to Louie?”
“I- that’s- forgotten?” Della spluttered, sounding hurt.
“Donald, I-” Scrooge tried to say.
“Louie is already struggling! We know he’s struggling! This-!”
“I haven’t forgotten anything!” Della shouted back, sounding angry now as well. “I relive that moment every single day because I failed to keep him safe! I won’t let that happen this time, and neither will Scrooge! Can’t you trust that?”
“Not with this!” Donald replied resolutely. “Not when you’re running headfirst into danger! I won’t allow it! I don’t care what you or anyone-!”
“They’re not your kids!” Della yelled.
“They might as well be!”
“Enough.” A calmer, matronly voice suddenly introduced itself. Mrs Beakley was in the room as well. “Scrooge, they both have valid points. The children are born adventurers, whether we like it or not. Without an outlet for their brand of restlessness, they’re all suffering. They need this. But there have to be proper safety nets in place, or what happened in Mexico will happen again!”
“And ye think I don’t already know that?” Scrooge growled, sounding frustrated. “I may be a reckless old coot, but I’m not daft!”
There was a pause. Dewey waited at the door, listening intently.
He heard Scrooge sigh. “Look,” He began. “The trip is on Saturday. Between now and then, I’m sending Gyro to the ruins to investigate them himself. Thoroughly. He’ll send me a map of the ruins in its entirety, complete with traps, dead ends, and notes on its occupants, if any. I’ll know the location of every possible danger in that temple. I’ll know which ones the kids are capable of handling, and which ones are to be avoided.
“The kids will be none the wiser. As far as they’ll be concerned, this’ll be a regular adventure, just like old times.” Scrooge hesitated. “I mean, I would tell one of them, but… the only one of them that can keep a secret is Louie, and he’s one of the kids we’re doing the trip for.”
“Knowing where the dangers are is only one step.” Beakley said sternly. “We need preventative measures to protect them.”
“Agreed.” Scrooge replied. “And that’s where the real genius lies. Gyro will be tasked to disable every trap he comes across. And, wherever possible, he’ll rig the traps with modern gadgetry! These traps will trigger as normal, but they’ll be prevented from deliverin’ the killing blow! They’ll give the kids just enough leeway to get out of the way, or give me enough time to yank them away from danger!” He heard Scrooge chuckle. “It’ll be the safest adventure we’ve ever been on, but it’ll feel just like the real deal!”
There was silence for a moment.
“…So…” Della spoke up again, this time sounding unsure. “We’re going to… trick them?”
“Well…” Scrooge replied, sounding a little flustered. “It’s more of a white lie, than anythin’ else…”
“I think it’s a sound idea.” Beakley said matter-of-factly. “The only thing I’d watch out for is the kids themselves. They’re smart. If you aren’t careful, they could easily put the pieces together themselves.”
“They won’t suspect a thin’. Trust me. Any other worries ye want addressed, Donald?”
There was a pause, then a reluctant sigh. “…So long as you’re make sure that they’ll be safe.” Donald replied.
“They will.” Scrooge assured him. “I swear it by me life, and me fortune.”
“Good. And I’ll tell you now that May and June won’t be going.” Donald added. “Daisy won’t have it.”
Scrooge sighed. “I assumed as much. I’ll respect her wishes. Della? I have your blessin’?”
There was another pause. This one was considerably longer.
“We either start Louie in the paddlin’ pool, or we throw him into the deep end.” Scrooge told her wisely. “And we all know what could happen if we do the latter.”
“…Yeah. You’re right.” Della replied quietly. “I’ll come with, just in case, but… yeah. I’m okay with this.”
Retracting his head from the door, Dewey slowly slunk away. He’d heard enough.
He made his way back to his room, his hands in his pockets and his expression downcast. This wasn’t an adventure. It was one of those scripted haunted houses in theme parks. How could it be a test of skill or daring if there wasn’t the possibility of failure? If they were basically guaranteed to succeed regardless of what happened?
Yet, even as these thoughts crossed his mind, he also remembered how confident Louie had looked back in the TV room. He remembered how joyful, how hopeful Webby was right now. He thought how they would react if they knew that it was all fake, and he frowned even further.
…They were the point, he decided. This trip wasn’t for him. It was for the members of his family who weren’t coping. And if he told them the truth, then they’d be just as unhappy as they were before, if not more so. He had to keep quiet about this.
So, he stood up straight. And with a forced smile, he walked back to his bedroom.
something about eggs i think idk