Disclaimer: I don't own Ducktales!

Title: Contract Limitations

Summary: Lena tries to sort out the bad blood between her and the Beagle Boys- specifically with Ma Beagle. Magica takes over.

...

Lena gives it a few days. Weeks. A month. She doesn't really keep track. She doesn't seek out any trouble, and they don't come looking for it, so she continues on with her day to day life; and, presumably, so do they.

That is, of course, until they do come looking for trouble.

The nice thing about the amphitheater- besides having a killer aesthetic that she could jive with- was that it's a fairly open space. Even as run down as it is, you can see basically anywhere. So Lena, her webbed feet dipped idly in the salty waters of the bay, knows long before they arrive that they're coming. She stands, shakes some droplets off, establishes that her hair looks fine, and smooths out a shirt that's far too large for her anyway. It's good to look sharp when company is coming over.

The truck rumbles to a stop, and out pop the original classics. Webby has names for them, but Lena has never been all that good with names. She is good at sarcasm, however, and uses it to her advantage, curtsying and batting her eyelashes. "Aww, did you bring the mud hopper out just for lil' old me? That's so sweet of ya'll."

Lena's sense of humor goes over about as well as it normally does. The big one ties her wrists behind her with what feels like ribbon before shoving her in the back of the truck. As far as she's concerned, she's underappreciated in her time.

The junkyard looks better at night. There's a certain mysticism to it- this idea of boundless trash, piling high and hiding secrets. Under those cars and bags could be doors to other worlds. Elves could be sleeping in the compactor. Once the sun rises, it's just sad.

The original classics haul her up to Ma's trailer. It's bigger on the inside than she would've expected, enough so that the two smaller Beagle Boys can safely fit inside and finagle her into a refurbished school desk, tying her to it before dispersing. Lena waits.

She's starting to doze off when the handle twists. Lena sluggishly sits up as Ma struts inside, closing the door behind her. She's smiling ear to ear. Way too eager for comfort.

"Y'know what?" Lena says, as if the woman will care what she knows. "This whole situation reminds me a bit of that Resident Evil game. You seen that? I've watched some playthroughs of it, and this has a serious Marguerite Baker vibe to it- without the gross food. Desk, chained hands, mother coming in to interrogate me..." She raised her eyebrows. "You're not gonna puke insects down my throat, are you?"

That actually gets a chuckle out of her. "Naw." Ma drags a stool over and sits down, fingers weaving together on her lap. "I enjoyed Jack more, myself."

"He was way scarier."

Ma leaned in. Her bottom canine peeked out. "Now, what am I gonna do with you?"

"I dunno. What are you gonna do to me?"

"I'm torn." She shrugged. "Could just do you in here, but I could make a game outta it with the boys. Can't tell which I prefer quite yet."

Lena tilted her head to the side, ignoring the sudden jump in her heart rate. The sooner she gave her what she wanted, the sooner she'd be in hot water. Playing the game bought her time. "Would an apology help my case at all?"

Ma looked genuinely surprised at that. "A what?"

"An apology," she repeated. "It was your birthday, and I chucked a cake in your face. That sucks."

"Yer messin' with me."

Lena let out a long sigh. "Look. I've got plans. Things to do. It's hard to do those things with your sons breathing down my neck. So what do I gotta do to make this right? An apology? Any particular item you're craving? Do I need to streak through the park? What up?"

The woman's smile turned sickeningly sweet. "Nice try, hun. But I don't forget things that easily."

"Then we've got problems."

"That we do."

Lena bent down to press her chin to her chest, feeling the amulet underneath her sweater. The bonds snapped with a flash of purple magic. Ma stood, fists raised for a tussle, but she repelled her with a singular blast. Lena darted to the trailer door, struggling to open it. She doesn't have a plan, per say, so much as a need to distance herself and work it out later. Before she can get anywhere the big one has her arm, yanking both of them behind her back when she tries to make a leap for the dirt.

"Good job, Bouncer," Ma wheezes as she walks out, winding up and punching her in the jaw. Cheers erupt from below.

Lena coughs. Her words are tight with fear. "I don't suppose that apology is still viable, is it?"

She cracked her knuckles. "Not a chance."

The junkyard goes dark. Lena, eyes squeezed shut, assumes it's just a side effect of fear. That's when the mutters and whimpers of fear start. Bouncer hasn't let go of her, yet she doesn't feel held by him anymore, rather by the cold tendrils on her elbows, the bright red eyes mere inches from her beak. "What are you doing here?"

"I can't have my pawn in the hospital, can I?"

Lena's face sours. "I had it under control."

Magica's shadow isn't as emotive as the duck itself would be, but her voice is as smug as ever. "Somehow, I doubt that." Her shadowy hands touch her cheeks. "How about I help you out?"

"How?" She can't stop herself from asking. Lena isn't nearly as powerful as her Aunt is, and it's breathtaking to see just how far she could run with it. The things she could know, with time.

The fingers dip into her, under the skin, tugging at her will. "I think you know how."

Lena swallows. "You promised me you wouldn't do that," she says, voice small.

The shadow smiles at her. "I never promised you anything."

Lena's breath billows out of her like it's the middle of winter. She shivers like it too, clutching her necklace between her fingers with desperation; a dark, wild hope she could somehow break it beneath her meager might. The last thing she can remember is Magica patting her head and telling her how good she'd been, perched on a tire just outside the junkyard, before fading away into nothing. Lena knew better than to go back and inspect her work.

"I hate this family," she whispered into the purple stone, hoping her Aunt would hear.

She shivers all the way to the marketplace, with the hope of warming up through the shared body heat. Lena doesn't bother to peruse the shelves- it's not like she can afford any of what's there.

"Lena!" Webby cries, then there's warm arms around her waist. Lena almost jumps off the ground. "I didn't think you were ever up this early!"

"Huh?" she replies intelligently.

"Hello, Lena," another voice, this one British, chimes in, as Beakley turns the corner, a basket in hand. "And what have you got there?"

"Huh? Oh, this." Lena tucks the amulet under her shirt- best not to take any chances. Talking helped her feel a bit more normal, so she ran with it. "It's just an old thing I picked up at a thrift shop. What's a rich gal like you doin' at a cheap place like this?"

Beakley lets out a long breath through her nose. "Mr. McDuck may be the richest duck in the world, but he is also the cheapest," she informs her, with a weary resolve that tells her she's argued with him on it before. The housekeeper examined her disheveled appearance. "You might as well join us."

"I might as well do what?"

Webby has her by the wrist, guiding her through places she's clearly never been before. Donald and the boys are in tow, and when the older duck passes by, he hands her his coffee cup with a look of sleepy understanding. It sears the cold away.

Author's Note: hey howdy it's 1 am when I'm finishing this. I'm going to bed. Also, I wrote this in like an hour and a half, so only time and editing will tell how good it is or isn't. (Edit: I found an error in the first sentence, and a couple more later on. Sleepy me is weak.)

I've always had an idea for Magica possessing Lena in mind. It could be a really interesting thing to occur. It's late and I don't word well.

-Mandaree1