Scrooge McDuck frowned as he took out his pocket watch for the fifth time within the past three minutes, bringing the golden memento to his ear just to make sure it was still working. A sudden gust of lingering winter air caused his mood to sour more, as he looked at the watch in disgust.
"He's late, " the old mallard grumbled, shoving his ticking device back into his pocket as he looked over the scenery- scanning to see if McDuck could spot anyone on the empty stretch of blacktop. Seeing no one, it caused him to growl again in frustration. "What about 'meet me at the airport- six on the dot' doesn't that lump o' lughead understand? Time is money- MY money!"
It was getting to the point Scrooge was seriously contemplating ordering Duckworth, his personal driver and butler, to go and fetch the lad he was waiting for- and docking the price of gas from the late employee's own paycheck- when just the duck he had been waiting for made himself known as he ran across the runway.
"It's about time, ye lunderhead. What, for goldurn's sake, took ya so long Fenton?!" The old duck readjusted their hat, another gust of wind knocking it askew. "For somebody good at countin', you seem tae have no luck wit' telling time."
"Sorry, Mister McDuck!" Fenton apologized between gasping for air. It had been quite the morning; a mad dash and a lot of scrambling around since his boss had called him while he was still slumbering, instructing him to be at the airport in an hour.
He still didn't know why he was there, but it wasn't his job to ask those sort of questions.
"Would you believe I missed my taxi? I ran after it for over a mile; boy those guys drive fast!"
Scrooge eyed the dishevelled duck in front of him. His hair was messier than usual, his tie was askew, and he had missed a few buttons on his shirt.
"Aye, I would. Did ya manage to catch it?" Scrooge was quickly growing impatient with the idle chit-chat and pleasantries, and Crackshell's tardiness didn't allow for any to begin with.
"No..." Fenton shook his head, and plucked an errant twig from his hair, flicking it away. "But I did manage to hitch a ride on the front of a fourteen wheeler!"
Scrooge actually smiled at that.
"Ah, good lad! It's cheaper that way, anyway. Now, let's get down to business..." the old mallard leaned in to whisper, despite the fact they were completely alone. "You did remember to bring the you-know-what, I hope?"
It was Fenton's turn to smile as he brought up the suitcase he had sat on the ground, previously ignored by his boss. He tapped it with his hand confidently.
"Sure did, hardly leave home without it these days. Never know when," it was the younger duck's turn to lean in and whisper," you-know-who might be needed. Uh, speaking of which… just why AM I here? Not that I don't like a good mystery like any other duck, but I'm totally STUMPED here. See, first I thought maybe I was picking up some criminals. But gee, that would be positively ludacris! Gizmoduck keeps criminal creeps OUT of Duckburg, not roll out the red carpet for 'em!"
"Fenton.." Scrooge growled, trying to get the other's attention. However, he was ignored as Crackshell continued with his rambling.
"And so then I thought, maybe I'm meeting a special somebody. The cream of the crop, a star! Like, Angelina Goatlee, Brad Pig! Or maybe even Walt Frisby himself!" Fenton's smile slipped as he began mumbling to himself. "Aw, and here I am without my autograph book. You think they'd mind if I asked 'em to sign the suit instead? My forehead? What about-?"
"Fenton!"
Scrooge's booming anger echoed across the blacktop, and he had to fight the urge to whack the guy upside the head with his cane. Crackshell didn't flinch, he was used to Scrooge's outbursts by now, but he did stop talking for a second.
"No celebrities, then?"
"No. Now listen carefully. We have a very important, very rare, and most importantly, very expensive artifact being transferred from the Smithsonian all the way up here to Duckburg."
"I see!" Fenton interjected, cheerfully. "And you need me- er, I mean, you-know-who, to make sure said artifact, remains intact! And, un-stolen, to boot, no doubt."
Scrooge fought the urge to pinch his bill in frustration.
"Aye, that would be the point. Now if you'd stop foolin' around, follow me. You got a plane to catch!"
Hours later, across town and on the outskirts of Duckburg, Burger Beagle licked his chops as he watched his mother mix the ingredients for one of her infamous cakes. The grown mutt was practically salivating as he tried to sneak a finger into the batter to steal just the teeniest and tiniest of tastes. However, he was instead met with a fierce swat of a wooden spoon- Burger flinching back in pain.
"YOWCH!"
"And that's whatcha get, too." Ma Beagle said angrily, threatening her son with another wave of the spoon. "And if ya keep that up, I may jus' clobber ya real good next time. You KNOW this cake is for your poindexter of a brother. It's almost Megabyte's birthday, and you know his ma hasn't seen him in ages."
"Yeah," Burger began with a whimper, giving his best puppy dog eyes that he could muster, " but I'm starving. I think I'm gonna die from an empty belly!"
"Oh, would you's be quiet," Big Time, yet another member of the Beagle Boys, shouted from across the room- busy sitting in front of the television. "Some of us is tryin' t'watch some cartoons, here."
"Besides," Ma Beagle interjected, "You just had lunch an hour ago."
This made Burger's frown intensify, this time his voice a full out whine as he stomped his feet and threw an adult-sized tantrum.
"But that was aaaaages ago!"
"Oh, hush," the mother shouted. " If ya keep up all that hollerin'', I won't make ya yer own cake after this one like I planned to!"
This was enough to send the goodie-craving mutt slouching down until he was barely peeking over the table.
"I'll be good..."
Satisfied, Ma Beagle continued stirring. She glanced at the clock, and then over to her boy in front of the television set.
"Big Time, be a dear and switch that over to the news, would ya? I wanna make sure those nosey news casters got my good side."
"Aw Maw, do I have ta?"
The glass bowl that was hurled at his head, missing by inches, and shattering against the wall, was all the answer he needed. He swiftly changed the channel. Ma Beagle, however, grumbled as she realized that meant she's have to start another batch of batter all over again. See, this was always why she needed to remember to double her recipe- just in case… accidents happened.
The old woman was busy getting out the ingredients all over again, as her ears suddenly perked up when the familiar voice of a certain reporter filled the cabin.
'Hellwo, this is ace weporter Webra Walters bwinging you yet another Gizmoduck sighting. For many months now there has been talk awound town of Scwooge McDuck- the wowld's wichest duck and sometimes phiwanthwopist- has been pwanning a new special exhibit for Duckburg's Museum Spwing opening. "
Ma Beagle and her boys booed, just the name of the ancient duck being enough to make them want to break things. Webra Walters- being on tv and completely ignorant of her aggressive audience- continued her reporting as the dog woman patted the side of her permed hair straight.
"Well, mystewy no more! Pwess coverege fwom Washington, DC shows Gizmoduck picking up some cwate fwom the famous Smithsonian. Excitement is in the air ower wumors that it might be the notowious wuby web swippers of Dorothy fwom 'the Wizard of Oz'. Either way, stay tuned as this weporter gets the scoop fwom our city's number one herwo himself!"
It was then that Ma Beagle turned off the tv, no longer needing to hear anything else as a scheme began to form in her mind. She rubbed her mitts deviously together as she grinned mischievously.
"Hear that, boys? Sounds like Scroogey sent his robo dimwitt out of town on an errand. You know what that means, doncha?"
It was Bouncer Beagle, one of the taller boys that was busy sharpening his knife that gave a lazy answer.
"No more bad puns?"
Big Time rolled his eyes.
"No, stupid, it means a new pair of ruby slippers for Ma when Gizmodork brings the goods back into town."
"You're both wrong," their mother said angrily, as she placed her hands on her hips as she couldn't believe she raised a bunch of small time thugs. "It means nobody to guard McDuck's money-bin! With Gizmoduck outta the way, it'll be a cakewalk!"
"Did somebody say 'cake'?!"
"UGH, AFTER we rob the old geezer, Burger!"
The sun was setting over Duckburg, blanketing the buildings in hues of orange. One building in particular stood in sunset's radiance, its fiery hues glinting and reflecting off of the gigantic dollar sign welded to the front of said building.
To Scrooge, not a whole lot could top that level of beauty. He sat in his chair, gazing out at his money-bin, dreamily.
"Uncle Scrooge?"
Scrooge flinched, and spun around in his chair, only to see his three nephews standing on the balcony. He gave them a stern eye, but wasn't able to muster anything more in the wake of their somber expressions.
"What are you three doing up? It's past your bedtime!" He walked around his desk and made his way toward the stairs, preparing to herd them back to their bedroom.
The boys, however, weren't quite ready to head to bed, as they easily dodged their guardian's hands. Scrooge turned around in a huff as the boys made it down the stairs and back towards the old duck's desk where he had started from. Louie was the first to speak up.
"Aren't you worried about Gizmoduck being away for so long?"
"Yeah," Dewey chipped in, " he's been gone for AGES!"
"Who knows WHAT kind of things all the bad guys can get up to while he's gone!" Huey cried.
Their great uncle, having made his way down the steps, found his glare softening as he could tell his nephews were genuinely concerned.
"Now now, there's nothing t'worry about. This isn't Saint Canard- loonies just don't pop up left n' right causing trouble. Most we got are petty thieves like those no account Beagles runnin' around n' tryin' t'steal from people." Scrooge plopped down in his chair as he swirled it around to face the children before continuing. "And even then, the police can handle 'em on their own. Did long before Gizmoduck, n' will long after he's gone."
The kids didn't seemed convinced of this, as the red shirt triplet pointed out the window and at Scrooge's bin.
"Yeah, and what about your money bin? Part of Gizmoduck's job is to guard it! Arentcha worried about THAT?"
"Why worry?" Scrooge smiled, and pointed his cane toward the window. "As long as I have me money-bin in sight, I see no reason why I can't protect it myself in Gizmoduck's absence.
Huey's eyes lit up.
"You mean the Masked Mallard will protect it, right? With one of these, and one of those! And a few of these, too!" the young duck threw playful punches at the air to his right. Scrooge chuckled, and shook his head.
"No, Huey. The Masked Mallard is retired for good. Plain 'ol Scrooge McDuck will have t'do. Now, about that bedtime..."
"But... but, how will you know!" Louie whined.
"Yeah! Y'can't watch your bin all the time! When will you sleep?" Dewey enquired. These boys weren't going without a fight.
"Yer right, and I won't have tae." With another turn and a point of his cane, the old mallard pointed across the room where a new bell that the children had never saw before was currently taking up space. "Not with that lil' beaut, anyhow. Had Gyro hook it up this morning for practically pennies. With nobody to guard me bin, I thought a new security system was in order. This way if anybody even gets NEAR the building, I'll be the first t'know."
The lads wilted some, trying to make final arguments.
"But a bird or a deer could easily set it off!"
Scrooge shrugged.
"Better safe than sorry." This time the great uncle was having no more of it, and easily scooped the three ducklings into his arms- and one over his shoulder- as the old duck marched up the stairs. "Now, worry all ya want. But if you're gonna be doing it, you'll be doing in your beds!"
McDuck had just made it up the stairs when he dropped the children in a jolt, as the security system blared to life.
"BLOW ME BAGPIPES! The bell, the alarm… MY MONEY!"
Scrooge only barely registered the kids' cries of "See! We told you so!" as he raced through the house and toward the front door.
"Duckworth!" Scrooge bellowed as he threw his jacket on. The butler emerged from the hallway, dressed in his night clothes and slippers, already roused from sleep from the blaring alarm.
"Right away, sir. I'll warm up the car."
Scrooge McDuck was just about to open the front door of the house, when he stopped as he heard the pattering of footsteps behind him. The old drake turned around with a glare, as he noticed that his young nephews had also thrown on coats and looked like they were planning on leaving with him. The uncle crossed his arms, standing his ground as he blocked the exist.
"Oooh no you don't. An' where do ye three lads think you are goin'?"
Louie was the first of the triplets to answer.
"To help out!"
"Yeah," Dewey butted in, just as determined as his brother. "Without Gizmoduck, you're going to need some backup fighting the Beagle Boys!"
"No, and no," the boys groaned as their Uncle Scrooge flat out turned them down. "I've already told ya, I can more than handle their ilk. NOW, what I DO needja t'do is turn around, march up those stairs, and head straight fer bed."
"But, Uncle Scrooge-"
"None of that. Now, with me n' Duckworth gone I'll be needin' somebody t'be looking over things. Keep an eye out n' protect the lasses of the house. Think you lot can handle that responsibility?"
It was obvious that the old duck was not going to budge. And realizing this, the triplets sighed dramatically in defeat.
"Alright, Uncle Scrooge," said Huey sadly.
"Yeah, we'll be good." Louie added.
"Woodchuck's honor." Was Dewey's final word on the matter, before the three boys did their salute towards their uncle. This made Scrooge chuckle, despite his anxieties over his bin.
"Good, I'll be sure t'tuck you boys in when I return. Goodnight."
It with that Scrooge McDuck ran out the house and to his waiting car- its engines purring as it was ready to speed off into the night. However, if he had stayed longer or at least looked back, he would have seen Huey, Dewey, and Louie remove their other hands from behind their backs- showing their fingers crossed. They giggled mischievously, before they too snuck their way out of the house to retrieve their bikes from the garage.
If they hurried and pedaled fast enough, maybe they wouldn't miss too much of the good parts.
Scrooge's money-bin loomed menacingly large in the moonlight, but menacing didn't deter the four menaces who stood before it.
"There it is, boys. Scrooge McDuck's money-bin! We've finally struck it rich." Ma Beagle rubbed her hands together, eyes glinting.
"But uuuh, how are we supposed t'get inside? There's a big door in the way!" Bouncer Beagle questioned, testing its endurance by ramming into it, shoulder-first. Of course he merely bounced off of it, with nothing more to show for it than a sore shoulder.
"And it's locked, too."
"Not for long!" Big Time replied, leaning against their car and grinning, casually tossing a bundle of dynamite up and down in one hand. "We got enough of this stuff t'blow the whole thing sky-high!"
"Oh, but wouldn't it be harder t'get the money if we have to get it from way up there?" Burger asked as he looked up worriedly at the sky. " We's don't even own a plane!"
Ma Beagle facepalmed in frustration, before barking at her dimwitted son.
"Oh, just shut up already and start unpacking the T.N.T. No telling how much time we got until Scroogey decides to show up!"
It didn't take long for the Beagle family to unpack all the T.N.T in the car and place it in front of the building. Stacks upon stacks of explosives piled up in front of the door, just ready to be used. Ma Beagle dusted her hands off in satisfaction, before turning to her boys.
"Alright, which of you got the lever for these bad boys?"
The three criminals exchanged expectant glances.
"Uhh, I thought you brought it..."
"Me? I told YOU to grab it!"
"I thought SOMEone got it..."
Ma Beagle slapped her forehead and growled. She should have been used to this sort of thing by now.
"Well ONE of you dunderheads better have grabbed it!" she hissed, trudging over to the car and rummaging through the remaining junk in the car.
She didn't have much time to look, before the screeching of tires caused her, and her three boys, to jump up in alarm. The first thought in her mind was that that rolling hunk of scrap metal had come back early.
"I had a feeling it was you no good Beagle Boys, " a familiar and scottish voice cried from the parked limo, before a very short and very enraged duck burst from it. Scrooge McDuck continued, raising his cane and ready to fight. "Stay away from me money-bin!"
"Oh yeah, " the mother of the gang was the first to speak up from her own car, not the least bit worried. "You and what army?"
"Yeah, " Big Time chipped in, continuing the mocking, "We's know all about your robo-bodyguard being outta town. No way you can takes on all of us!"
The old duck had made his way closer to the gang, as the men surrounding him. Scrooge looked them over, not at all impressed.
"I'll be taking that bet."
And with that McDuck was off, his Scottish fury propelling him straight at the nearest Beagle Boy. He swung his cane, feeling instant satisfaction as it hit home right upside Bouncer's head. The tall mutt fumbled, and the old duck took the opportunity to swipe his cane at his feet- sending him crashing. Scrooge didn't have much time to celebrate as he quickly ducked, Big Time having snuck up on him and started throwing punches.
"Would ya hold still? I'm tryin' t'clobber ya here!"
"Fat chance of that!" Scrooge retorted. The old mallard ducked again and slid away, just in time to avoid being bear hugged by Burger Beagle, who lost his footing and landed on top of his smaller brother.
"Well that takes care of that." Scrooge grumbled, dusting off his shirt and looking around, the Beagle Boys in a pile behind him. "Now where's-"
Scrooge spotted Ma Beagle waving at him from approximately ten yards away. What sat at the ground at her feet made his blood run cold.
"It's over, Scroogey! Your money's ours now!" Ma Beagle cackled, and prepared to press the lever that would detonate the explosives.
Scrooge looked between Ma Beagle and the explosives stacked around the door of his bin, and time seemed to slow down. With that much dynamite, he'd be lucky to have a bin left standing at all. Time only seemed to slow down even more as he broke and began running full tilt toward the crazed woman with the detonator.
"WOW, now THAT'S a lot of dynamite!"
McDuck, however, found himself stopping with a jolt as he heard a familiar voice from behind him. Turning himself fast enough to give himself whiplash, the old money pincher gasped at the sight of his great-nephews standing by the pile of explosives. Scrooge was in a panic as he could see the lads were beginning to touch the stuff- no doubt thinking they would help their uncle out.
"What in the name o' Davy Jones do you lads think ye are doin'?!" McDuck cried, his scottish accent thick with worry and anger from the boys disobeying him. "Put that down an' get away from there!"
He was running back toward the boys before he knew he was doing it. He was focused on nothing but getting them out of there.
Perhaps that was why he didn't hear Ma Beagle cackling and bidding him a tittering farewell, but Huey, Dewey, and Louie did. Scrooge screeched to a halt as he watched them scatter, alarm in their voices as they yelled something to him he couldn't make out.
What happened next, happened quickly, all at once and in a blur. The world filled with deafening sound, the ground shook, a blast of hot light blinded him, and as quickly as it had been there, there was nothing. Blackness overtook him as chunks of rubble cascaded down upon him.
