Author's Note: This is an AU of an AU...I'm having fun writing it, but I'm not sure where it's going. XD I hope you guys like it. Webby is the same age as the boys in here and the same age (more or less) as they are in the show. Same goes for Gosalyn, who shows up later.
She crept through the hallways at night and kept a constant lookout for anyone, especially Black Heron. In her hand, she held a flashlight, which she swept across her way. Thus far, she was unimpeded. Her heart hammered between her ribs. What she was doing could land her in a lot of trouble. After all, she wasn't supposed to be sneaking around at night to start with, let alone moving through the archives. But she had to find out more information about her mom. Whatever Steelbeak told her wasn't true. She knew it wasn't. She just had to prove it.
While wandering the endless FOWL HQ hallways, she halted, hearing distressed cries issuing from the holding cells. While it wasn't uncommon to hear SHUSH agents in pain while FOWL agents tortured them, these cries sounded like children. She'd never encountered another child in FOWL HQ. At eleven, she'd spent the last six years of her life surrounded by adults. It was very lonely, something Black Heron loved to harp on.
Switching direction, she crept along the halls, careful to avoid the security cameras (she'd long since memorized their locations), and moved only when the cameras focused on another area. The sounds grew louder the deeper she penetrated and bars shook. Frowning, she glanced upward. The cameras had stopped. Whoever was down here, FOWL didn't want any record of them. That in and of itself was suspicious since they loved to catalog their victories and then watch the recordings.
She shone the light into each of the cells. As she did, she became aware of the low temperature around her, as if someone had left a window open onto a bleak hinterland. It might be winter outside; she didn't know. She hadn't seen the outside world in six years. Steelbeak kept her away from windows and away from the landing pads, as well as anywhere else that might hint at her location. She'd seen snow, though she saw snow all the time, which made her think she was somewhere cold. It could be winter. It could be summer for all she knew.
"Hey! Watch where you shine that thing!" a boy snapped and she whipped about, wielding the flashlight like a weapon with her hand on her waist, where she carried two sharp blades. She approached the cell where she'd heard the voice and then shone the light over into the corner, so as not to blind the prisoners.
"A girl?" a boy wearing a red shirt and red hat said, incredulous. "They made a kid our age be security down here?"
"Our age"? How old did they think she was? For that matter, how old were they? She spied three boys, identical save for their outfits and hairstyles, sprawled about a cell with only one bed, sink, and toilet between them. They seemed familiar, but she couldn't put a finger on why. She toggled the flashlight, dimming the setting.
"You're too young to be SHUSH agents," Webby said. "So what are you doing here?"
"And you're too young to be a FOWL agent," the boy wearing red retorted. He scrutinized her and she scowled back, running her finger along one of her blades' handles.
"I'm a FOWL agent in training," Webby responded.
"Dude, you're what? Twelve? Like us?" the boy wearing a green hoodie responded. "There's no way you're a FOWL agent."
"I'll have you know I'm a FOWL agent in training," she rejoined. "Like I said. That means that I have the authority to reprimand you."
"We're already pretty reprimanded," the green boy said.
"Yeah...but seriously, who are you and what are you doing down there?" the red boy said. She noticed that the blue boy hadn't spoken yet and her eyes narrowed. What secrets was he hiding? Was he the brains of the operation and was sizing her up before shooting off his mouth? She stroked the knife hilt, anxiety churning butterflies in her stomach.
"That's what you want. You want me to give my name and rank, so you can use it against me later. Not going to happen," she said. "But I'm curious. Since when does FOWL capture kids?"
"We're not 'just kids'," the blue boy said, finally speaking. "We're Scrooge McDuck's nephews."
"Scrooge McDuck…" she echoed. That name sounded oddly familiar. The color drained from her face. Memories threatened to overwhelm her and she groaned, clutching her head and stepping back from them. McDuck Manor. Her grandmother. No, no, no, she'd fought so hard to keep them from surfacing. Steelbeak had urged her to forget her past life. She wasn't part of Duckburg anymore.
Tears pricking her eyes, she collapsed onto the floor and wrapped her arms about her head. She was developing a massive headache.
"Hey, didn't Mrs. Beakley mention that she had a granddaughter once who was taken by FOWL?" one of the boys, the red one she thought, said. "Webbigail Vanderquack?"
It was on the tip of her tongue to respond to her name and she shuddered, knowing she was showing weakness before her enemies. With an effort, she straightened herself up and toughened her stance. Her head still pounded and she felt none too steady, but they didn't need to know that. They didn't need to know anything they could use against her.
"You think you're so clever," she snapped.
"Excuse me?" the red boy said and Webby shone the flashlight in their eyes, on each boy in turn, so that they winced at the brightness. "Could you turn that down? Please?"
"Are you Webbigail Vanderquack?" the green boy said.
"That's none of your business," she informed him archly. "Who are you really? Are you here to bring down FOWL from the inside? Because that's not going to happen."
"We're here because we were kidnapped!" the green boy said, exasperated. "We're not part of some vast conspiracy on the part of McDuck Enterprises or SHUSH."
"Uh huh. A likely story," Webby said.
"Seriously, if you're Webbigail Vanderquack, you've got to be as scared as we are," the blue boy said and she scoffed.
"Scared? I laugh in the face of danger," she shot back. And if she were scared, she wouldn't admit it to them. She didn't know them from a hole in the wall. Still...her heart pounded, thinking of McDuck Manor and her grandmother, whose face she could no longer recall. Her head throbbed and she braced herself against the bars for a second.
"Are you okay?" the blue boy murmured.
"Dude, don't engage with her. And don't get that close," the green boy hissed.
"She's an enemy," the red boy agreed.
Ignoring them, the blue boy approached the bars and touched her shoulder. "Hey. I'm Dewey. And these are my brothers, Huey and Louie."
"I'm-" she stopped. They knew who she was. She just had no intention of proving them right.
"Ha, you're just trying to get me to lower my guards so I'll trust you and then you'll-" she stopped again.
"We'll what?" the red boy said. "We just want to get out of here."
So did she. Before she could stop herself, she blurted, "What's it like outside?"
"You've never been outside?" Dewey said. "How is that possible?"
Webby shrugged. "I've been living here since I was five."
"And they never let you leave? Never?" Dewey responded, shocked.
"You are Webbigail Vanderquack," one of the boys, Huey or Louie, said. Dewey hadn't pointed out which was which.
"I'm Webby," Webby agreed in a small voice. There was no point in denying it now. The boys stared at her and she stared back, defiant, but she could feel her defenses crumbling. She'd never had to keep them up against fellow children before. Moreover, they represented a past she had thought long gone. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep her lower beak from trembling.
"Wait, they seriously kept a kid in here?" the green boy said. "And, argh, since Dewey already introduced us, I'm Louie. The nerd with the red hat is Huey."
"Thanks, Llewellyn," Huey said.
"Hey, that was a low blow, Hubert," Louie shot back.
"You've been stuck inside for six years?" Dewey said, ignoring his brothers' quibble. "By yourself? There are no other kids here?"
"No," she said. "But I don't need anyone else. I've got my knives-they're named Stabby and Pinchy. And I've got my studies."
"You don't have any friends?" Huey said. "Anyone to talk to?"
"Guys, are you forgetting that she's an enemy?" Louie huffed. "She's part of FOWL. She said it herself."
"She's been kidnapped by FOWL," Huey corrected.
"You don't have any friends?" Dewey said.
"I don't need friends," she said, but it rang hollow. She was lonely, horribly lonely, and terribly alone. The loneliness could be crippling at times, especially when she saw FOWL agents fraternize and then silence when they caught sight of her. Being a child was one thing, but being Steelbeak's get was something else entirely. It marked her as "other" and nigh on untouchable, which meant even if someone wanted to get close to her, they didn't dare lest they offend Steelbeak.
"Everyone needs someone," Huey said. He approached the bars too, sensing that she wouldn't attack them. Her shoulders slumped and she wanted to muster her old defiance and guardedness, but nothing came.
"You've been trapped here for six years, without being let outside, without seeing other kids, and you walk around with knives," Louie said. "What kind of life are you leading down here?"
"Why did FOWL kidnap you? Because you're Scrooge's nephews?" Webby retorted, unwilling to continue discussing herself.
"I don't know," Louie huffed. "We didn't ask."
She ought to leave, but she couldn't bring herself to do that either. This was the first social interaction she'd had in years that didn't revolve around instructions or being demeaned. She hadn't realized how desperate she was for it until it was here. It was like a precious gift, like water in the desert. She swallowed hard, her throat tight.
"Webby," Dewey said, bringing her attention back to him. "You haven't tried to escape?"
"There's nowhere to go," she said with a shrug. "Security's tighter the higher up in the base you go, the guards carry guns, and anyway, I'm pretty sure we're in the middle of frozen tundra."
"Is that a whip mark on your cheek?" Huey said softly and she touched her face. She'd forgotten that was there.
"Black Heron gets a little impatient during training sessions," she said with a shrug. "So she loses her temper sometimes and hits me."
She said this in a nonchalant way because to her, this was perfectly normal. The boys, however, looked aghast.
"She hits you?" Huey said.
"Don't your parents do that?" Webby asked, perplexed. "I thought all adults did that to let off steam."
"No...our uncle Donald's never hit us…" Dewey said. "We need to break you out of here."
"And ourselves," Louie hissed. "Don't forget about ourselves."
"You know how to get out of these cells, right? And you know how the base is laid out? I bet you could figure a way to sneak us all out," Huey said.
"I told you," she huffed. "There's nowhere to go."
"But the people here must have a means of coming and going," Huey argued. "So there must be a way to get off base. And there has to be a way to send a distress signal out to Uncle Scrooge and Launchpad. We can get out of here. All of us."
"Are we sure we want to take her?" Louie objected. "I mean…"
"We're all getting out of here," Huey said firmly. "All of us. From now on, Webby is included."
"But we barely know her," Louie argued.
"But we know she's miserable," Dewey replied. "Aren't you, Webs?"
"Webs?" Webby repeated. "Did you just give me a nickname?"
"Yeah. Do you like it?" Dewey said and Webby blushed.
"I've never had a nickname before...I mean, yeah, they call me 'Webby', but it's usually in a tone of annoyance," she said with another shrug. She'd never been given a term of endearment before. She studied Dewey closely and he smiled at her. She blushed harder.
"I'll get the keys and let you guys out," she promised.
"Thanks," Dewey said and beamed at her.
"Dewey Duck, the charmer," Huey muttered.
"Let's hope she's charmed enough not to turn on us," Louie said and Huey glowered at him. "Seriously, you guys. You barely know her. What makes you think she isn't going to turn us in at the first opportunity?"
"I have a feeling about her," Dewey said. "She's good at heart."
"How can you tell that?" Louie rejoined. "For all we know, she's evil to the core."
"No, she isn't," Huey said. "She had the opportunity to hurt us and she didn't. She flinched when Dewey touched her. It makes me wonder if every time someone touches her, they hit her."
"Well, I still don't like this idea," Louie proclaimed and then, as she walked away, she heard him add, "But I do kinda feel bad for her."
"We thought we had it rough living with uncle Donald," Dewey agreed. "But think of how bad she must've had it here."
She didn't think her life was that bad. Yes, she was miserable most of the time and she sometimes wished she could disappear, but what right did she have to complain? She knew no other life. She couldn't recall being with her grandmother, except for bits and pieces that she tried to suppress. The headache continued throbbing at her temples and she swallowed hard. When she reached for the keys, her hand was shaking.
She wouldn't let them down. She'd help them escape. As for herself, however, she belonged here. She wasn't good enough for the surface world and anyway, they didn't want her. Steelbeak and Black Heron had beat that lesson into her. The only people who wanted her lived here. She'd find no succor anywhere else.