Note: Aside from a few original characters of my own, Ducktales belongs to the creative genius Carl Barks. Oh, and Disney, too.

Beagle Without a Mask

Chapter 7

Cover-ups to Con Artists…


"Seven…Eight…Nine…"

Sergeant Pinscher adjusts the tie on his uniform, counting off the numbers above him as they light up. He grins to himself, knowing that the girl of his dreams is only a few floors above him. He absently plucks at the flower petals in the bouquet he's holding. It was becoming more and more difficult to catch Jennifer at home, so naturally, today was a special occasion. He couldn't stay long, though. His partner, Jack, was waiting for him outside in their patrol car. This would have to be quick.

"Twelve." He steps through the elevator doors once they slide open. Damien hums to himself while striding down the hall, tipping his hat to a young man coming out of his apartment, receiving an awkward nod as a response, something he was used to, knowing it was out of fear and respect. One of the main reasons he dawned the blue uniform with pride.

He stops suddenly in front of one of the many identical doors lining the hallway, clearing his throat before rapping his knuckles on it, then listening intently for footsteps. But instead, his refined hearing picks up another sound; voices, projecting back and forth between two people. After a moment, he knocks again. No one answers the door.

Instinctively, he places a hand on the butt of his gun, still eavesdropping. From where he's standing, it sounds like fighting, but it's difficult to make out what's being said. He reaches across to his shoulder, clicking in the receiver on his radio.

"Russell," he says in a low, urgent tone. "I might need some backup. You'd better get up here."

There's a moment of silence, then static. Finally, there's a response, but it's not as serious as his own, more lade back;

"Why? Is she allergic to the flowers? I told you to go with chocolate, but do ya listen to your partner-"

"Shut the hell up Jack! Just get your ass up here!" he snaps, still hearing shouts coming from the apartment. "Sounds like there's a fight at Jenny's place. Yelling. One's definitely male."

"Jealous much?"

"Jack!"

"Alright! Jeez, don't get your holster in a twist, I'm on my way."

Damien drops the flowers onto the floor, pulling out his firearm, holding it firmly in front of him with both hands. He adjusts his stands, readying himself. He knocks again, but with a closed fist and more force.

"Duckburg P.D.! Open the door!"

Still, the door remains closed. He moves in front of it, about to kick it in but stops abruptly. He immediately lowers his foot, and weapon once the door swings open, revealing a young woman with short brown hair and blue eyes, glaring knives once she recognizes the visitor.

"Sorry, but Halloween isn't until next week. I don't have any candy yet, little boy." She waves him away. "Go ask your mommy to make you some cookies, or something."

Damien glares back, forcing a smile. "Cute." He replaces his firearm, picking up the flowers. "What's with all the yelling? Where's Jennifer?"

"Oh, it's you, Damien!" She's obviously sarcastic in saying this as she too forces a smile. "I thought you were just some dumb kid pretending to be a real cop." She shrugs. "There's not really much of a difference, though. Probably why I was confused-"

"Bonnie where's Jennifer?" he almost barks, always loosing patience with her far too quickly.

Bonnie leans up against the door, still grasping the knob as she pulls it closer to her. She shrugs again. "How should I know? She was gone when I woke up. Might've went for a walk."

The officer observes her in silence. "Who else is in there?"

"None of your business."

"Too bad. I'm making it my business." He tries to look over her head. "I heard voices. A guy. Now who else is in there?"

Before Bonnie can respond again, someone shouts from the living room. "Aw, come on! Stop gangin' up on me!"

Bonnie groans, rolling her eyes. "Devon! Keep it down or else you can't use my TV for your stupid game!"

"It's not my fault these guys are cheating. They're totally against me here," came an annoyed response. "And Halo 3 is not stupid! You're just jealous because you suck at it."

Damien finally catches sight of a figure sitting in the middle of the couch, facing away from them, dawning a white t-shirt and a backwards blue ball. From here, he can tell he isn't very tall and a little over weight, once and a while jerking on the wireless controller and grumbling to himself at whatever it was gamers obsessed over.

"Who is that?" asked Damien, a little disgusted, never too fond of this particular type of addict, or the games themselves.

Bonnie sighs. "That, is Devon. He lives down the hall. I'm letting him use our television because somebody," she projects over her shoulder. "Decided to have a fit and throw a controller at his own set and break it. So he'd better not do it here!" She glances over at her guest. "You listening to me?"

He waves a hand over his head, not taking his eyes off of the screen. "Yeah, yeah. No tantrums. Got it-Dude! Stop ganging up on me!"

Damien searches the surroundings, ignoring the stranger. "Seriously, I wanna talk to her. Is she in there somewhere?"

She rolls her eyes again, swinging the door open the rest of the way. "Fine. If you don't believe me, which you never do, search the place. I don't care. But on some level, this is harassment." She nods over at 'Devon'. "It's bad enough I've had to deal with him half the morning."

Damien doesn't move, only looking down at the young woman with suspicion. The two of them stare each other down for a moment, the only sound being gunfire illustrating from the television. Finally, he takes a step inside, looking over the apartment as if trying to find something out of the ordinary, aside from the small round figure who continues to shout objections. He then makes his way back to the bedrooms, looking into Jennifer's room, finding it empty.

Once he does this with the two other bedrooms, as well as the kitchen and bathroom, he returns to the living room, deciding to ignore the hall closet, not wanting anyone to think he's that desperate to find her.

He looks down at Bonnie, annoyed. "Just tell her I was here…oh, and give her these." He hands her the bouquet. "Put 'em in some water for me, would ya?"

Bonnie accepts them with a sweet yet eerie smile. "No problem, officer."

Damien shakes his head. He knew she hated him, and why. It had nothing to do with her friend, but that lowlife family of hers. The fact that he'd never seen them hanging around her wouldn't dismiss his doubts about her innocence. There was something not right about her. One day, she'd let that slip…and he'd be there.

"Tell her I'll call her later," he says, adjusting his hat before walking out into the hallway.

"Fine. Oh, and Damien?" she adds, causing him to turn. "You really should find a different costume this year. Might I suggest something involving a monkey. That'd be much more realistic for you. Buh-bye." She slams the door before he can retort.


Bonnie presses her ear up to the door, holding her breath at the sound of the officer cursing, then making his way down the hall. Upon hearing the ding of the elevator, she exhales.

"That was way too close," said Babyface from the couch, taking off the blue cap and fanning himself with it. "I've never sweat so much in my life. And I don't even think I was using this thing right!" He holds up the controller.

"Are you kidding? You did awesome!" She hugs him over the back of the couch. "Broadway's got nothing on acting like that!"

"Speak for yourself, Sis," he says, raising an eyebrow. "Devon?"

"It's called improvisation, and that takes talent. Plus…" She ruffles the top of his head, taking the blue cap from him before going over to the hall closet. "There really is a Devon that lives down the hall, but he hates video games. That system is actually mine." She raps on the closed door with her knuckles. "All clear, guys."

Before she can open it, the door does so on its own, Burger and Bouncer tumbling out of the closet and landing in a heap on the floor. Both of them take deep breaths; a space that small was definitely not built to hide two large goons.

"Are you crazy?!" Bouncer wheezes up at her, struggling to his feet. " 'If you don't believe me, search the place?' He coulda' found us."

"He stopped right at this door! What if he'd opened it?" Burger also whines, fixing his hat. "We coulda' been in so much hot water!"

"Oh, stop overreacting." Bonnie tosses the hat into the closet before shutting it. "Damien's a pushover." Bonnie suppresses a laugh at their panicked expressions. "Now, if we're all finished with the drama I think we need to start pulling ourselves together. Babyface, don't forget to put your prison uniform back on. The last thing I need is you leaving that here for Judge Dredd to see the next time he stops by-"

Suddenly, there's a knock at the door. No one says a word. After a moment, a voice comes from the other side, as well as heavy breathing. Bonnie immediately recognizes the newcomer, gasping in horror.

"Pinscher? You in there? It's Russell."

"Oh my god it's Jack!" Bonnie shrieks, spinning to face her brothers in a panic. "Hide!" She hissed. "My room. Go, now!"

"Why? Who's Jack-" Babyface began.

"Just do it!" She pulls him up off of the couch, pushing him towards the others.

The three of them exchange glances of confusion before doing as she says, while Bonnie once again readies herself in front of the door, first looking over her appearance in the mirror on the wall, trying to fix her hair.

"Anybody home?" Russell asks, knocking again.

"Just a sec!" Bonnie looks back to make sure the door of her room is closed, with not a criminal in sight. She takes a deep breath, pulling open the door. She smiles up at the young Officer Jack Russell as he pants from slight exhaustion, hand resting on the gun still in his belt. He quickly straightens up when sighting her.

He takes off his cap, revealing dark brown wavy hair. A color that matched his hazel eyes, something Bonnie noticed every time he came around with Pinscher. It was the only thing about his visits she actually looked forward to. Unfortunately, she'd forgotten about Jack today. As much as she liked seeing him, now was not the best time.

"Bonnie! Hey!" He clears his throat, still out of breath from running up the flight of stairs. "How uh, how's it going?"

"Hey Jack," she says, a bit too dreamily.

"Is, Damien here?" he asks, flustered.

"Oh." Her smile slightly drops. "No, you just missed him. He's headed down the elevator now. Didn't you pass him?"

Jack laughs nervously. "No. I took the stairs. Then I ended up on the wrong floor, twice. I forgot which number you guys were on."

The young woman laughs with him. "It could happen to anyone! Well-" She goes to shut the door. "I guess you'd better hurry and catch him. He might leave without you again. Ya know, like last time? So I'll, see ya later-"

"Yeah-hey wait!" He puts his foot in the door. "Bonnie?"

"What?" She tightens her grip on the door, fighting the urge to look back at her room.

Jack raps his fingers on his policeman's cap as he thinks of what to say next. "Well…I was just, wondering…there's this thing going on at some museum next week. It's like a charity benefit the mayor is putting on, or something. Anyway, it's one of those fancy police charity benefits the chief always goes to-"

"You mean your father?" Bonnie raises an eyebrow. "Chief Russell?"

"Um, yeah, him." He clears his throat awkwardly. "And obviously I'm supposed to be there too, but…" He takes a deep breath, his voice suddenly going up an octave. "You, wanna go?" He pauses, then adding. "with me, I mean."

Bonnie stares at him blankly, totally thrown off by the gesture. She'd been asked out by men before, but never by an officer of the law! Despite his uniform, though, she had managed to develop a crush on him. Not to mention he was a pretty nice guy, even if he was partnered with someone like Damien.

She finally glances over her shoulder quickly before getting back to him, lowering her voice in case certain others might be listening. "You mean, like a, date?" she asks, as if she'd never used the term before.

Jack nods. "I guess you could call it that, yeah. Look, I know what you're gonna say, and you're right; it is weird that I'm a cop and you're, well, a Beagle." He brings his hands up. "I mean, no offense."

"None taken." She shoots a glare at her bedroom door.

Jack smiles again. "One date, that's all I'm asking. If it doesn't work, that's cool, we can still be friends. I won't hold anything that your family's done against you. I swear. Besides, I'd hate to go to this thing by myself," he groans. "I hate these rich, fat-cat events. There's no one interesting to talk to. But if you go, at least we can be bored together…what do ya say?"

Bonnie thinks about this. It was definitely not an easy decision for someone with her family's reputation; a Beagle? Dating a cop?! It was crazy! What would her brothers and cousins think? What would her mother say? Whatever it is, it wouldn't be very positive. Then again, it's not like she'd never went against her judgment in the past. If anything, it's given her a better life because of her ability to defy Ma Beagle.

These thoughts alone give her the answer she needs; the charming smile he expresses is also nothing short of encouraging.

Before answering she takes another quick glance behind her. "Exactly how fancy are we talking, here?"


"How the devil can ya not be interested?!" Glomgold shouts into the receiver angrily.

"It's not that we ain't interested, Flinty." The voice responds in a grim tone, as if tired from lack of sleep. "Now just, isn't a good time for us to be pullin' off a job is all."

"Since when has timing ever been a factor with you thugs? It's not like ya can't get days off from work or anything!" He almost growls, the pen he holds rapping rhythmically on the desk from frustration at the answer he's been given, not used to having someone turn down a proposition of this nature, especially when it's the Beagle Boys.

"What could possibly be more important than making Scrooge miserable? It's what ya live for!"

The voice on the other end sighs deeply, not too comfortable with sharing private information with someone like Flintheart Glomgold. "Look…the family's, goin' through a hard time right now. Trust me, if it were up to me, we'd be over there in a flash. But things are sorta, complicated right now. It's, kinda personal-"

"Personal or not, I'm willin' to pay ya for this if necessary!" He pauses, then adding. "Which one of ya am I talkin' to? I want to speak to Bigtime. Where is he?"

"Bigtime ain't here," the disgruntled Beagle responds harshly at the name. "Haven't seen him since last night. I'd like to keep it that way."

Glomgold grinds his teeth. "Fine. Then get me your mother! Aside from Bigtime, she's the only one out of the lot a' ya with any common sense!"

"Ma's asleep. She's not feelin' too well," he says, also angry. "If you wanna talk to someone in charge, talk to me."

The old duck slaps himself in the forehead. "Alright then, who might this be? Or is that gonna be too personal for ya to answer as well?"

"You're talkin' to Bankjob Beagle, Pal. So watch the sarcasm."

"Bankjob?" Glomgold rubs under his beak. "Never heard of ya. Just leave a message for Bigtime and tell him-"

"I don't go through that runt!" Bankjob shouts from the other line. "And I'm not his damn secretary neither, ya got that? If there's talk about pullin' off a heist, I'm the one to talk to, not that little know it all."

Glomgold roles his eyes, a conversation with one of the Beagles always trying his patience in a short amount of time. "Is that so? Well, then, since you're the one who's supposedly calling the shots…" He lowers his voice, grinning slightly. "Why aren't you all out doin' what it is ya do best; robbin' the citizens of Duckburg blind and helping yourselves to every bank vault within the city limits?"

"I already told ya, Glomgold," Bankjob's voice verges on threatening. "Now ain't the time for us to be out-"

"Oh, so it's not up to you then now, is it?" Glomgold laughs. "So be honest, is that really what you want…or is that what your brother Bigtime wants you to do?"

The line is silent, alerting him to the simple fact that this could be used to his advantage. It had never occurred to Flintheart that despite the fact he'd hired the services of the Beagle Boys on many occasions, he'd never thought about what it was that went on in the family of criminals on a personal level. If he played his cards right, this little inconvenience he'd planned for Scrooge McDuck would become slightly more entertaining with a little family drama thrown into the mix.

"Ah, I thought as much. So, tell me, Bankjob." He brings his webbed feet up onto the desk top, making himself more comfortable. "When's the last time you got to make a decision in your family. Since, you are after all, in charge…right?" he asks. "Why, from the sound of it, I'm willing to bet a pretty penny that you can hold your own when the occasion calls for it."

"You're damn right I can."

Flintheart twirls the pen in between his fingers. "Well then, how about proving it not just to me, but to that, what was it you called him…runt? Why not take charge now while he's not around, show 'em all who's really boss around there?"

There's a brief pause on Bankjob's end. "I…I don't know. I mean, sure, I'd give anything for a chance at showing up that little twerp…but with things bein' the way they are I don't think-"

"That's all well and good that you're thinking things through first, Lad. But ya got to ask yourself…what would Bigtime Beagle do?"

"Hey, Pal. I already done told ya, I don't need to rely on his opinion to make a decision. Alright? I know what I would do."

"Is that so?" The old duck's grin widens, knowing he's got him in the palm of his wing. "And would this decisive planning a' yours maybe involve the warehouse of a private museum…belonging to one Scrooge McDuck? Say…this weekend, perhaps?"

Once again, there's no immediate response as the stubborn dog begins to ponder the offer. Finally, the gruff voice speaks into the reciever, much more unruly than it had been from when he'd first answered the call;

"What exactly did ya have in mind?"

"Now there's a leader with some common sense," Flintheart chortles, still twirling his pen absently. "It's time you show that Bigtime a thing or two about authority." Just for good measure he adds, "I'm sure your mother will be proud."

"Yeah…I bet she will."


Well, it's official; brother's are stupid.

You can't leave 'em alone for one day without them doing something to screw everything up even more than it already is.

Tune in to find out what happens next…

Oh yeah! Please review! Thanx :p