Author's Note: Two updates in one week. What is this magic?


Through a window, Webby caught a glimpse of their surroundings and groaned, hope abandoning her again. Black Heron was gunning for her and HQ appeared to be in the middle of a frozen tundra. Any areas that had transportation were bound to be locked up and anyway, Webby had never been permitted to see where they were. It'd be so much easier if they had a map, but that was something else Webby had never been allowed to possess. All of the maps she'd attempted to make had been destroyed.

She glanced at her cell phone and saw she had no service. When had that happened? Lena glanced down at her phone too and then pulled out her own cell phone. She scowled at it and Webby saw it, too, had no service. Lena held it up to the window and a single bar flickered in and out. It wouldn't be enough to contact anyone; it was too inconsistent. Webby sagged.

It was unlike her to succumb to despair. She tried to rally, but all she could see were the shadows on the walls, her grandmother condemning her when all Mrs. Beakley had wanted to do was bring Webby back. Sobs crept up on her and she pushed them back. She'd tried to be numb and it hadn't worked. What she needed was a safe haven from Black Heron and a few days to process what was going on.

"Service!" Lena proclaimed and then cursed a few seconds later. "It's not working. Again. Where are we, in the middle of Siberia?"

"Maybe," Webby said, her first contribution to the conversation in a while. "It'd make sense. They'd want to keep me from escaping, after all. And anyone who needs to leave can."

She slumped to the floor. "They used to be located in the Amazon rainforest, but ever since SHUSH sussed them out, they moved. That was back before they kidnapped me."

"They created an elaborate hideout to keep you hidden?" Lena said, shaking her head.

"It was probably just an unintended bonus," she said. Lena slumped to the floor with her for solidarity, not because she was drained emotionally. Webby glanced at her; this was a partnership of convenience. She didn't believe Lena would hang around once they were free. She'd return to Duckburg and Webby would, what? She couldn't stay here. Black Heron had essentially declared open season on her. FOWL HQ wasn't safe. But she couldn't go back to Duckburg. They wouldn't want a murderer in their midst.

"You know, your granny's a tough old bird," Lena said, squeezing her shoulder. "You didn't mean to kill her, right? So she might've survived."

"But Mr. McDuck used past tense…" she said.

"He might've said that to throw you off."

"Why are you being so nice to me?" she asked, suspicious.

"Because I've been there," she said and shrugged. "I was Magica's puppet for years. I know what it's like to be abused by your family, by the people who are supposed to care about you and help you. The McDuck family took me in and I'm not even related to them.

"You'd be welcomed back with open arms."

Webby stared at the floor. She had washed out as a FOWL operative, which was what she'd been told repeatedly that she had wanted. She had lashed out at the Duck boys because she was supposed to be a FOWL agent, which was the same reason she'd attacked her grandmother. Did she care about making Steelbeak proud? He'd kidnapped her and had a one-night stand with her mother. From the way he'd described it, she was a conquest, not a love affair.

Her entire life, she'd been told she should venerate him as the head of FOWL. She was supposed to honor him and loathe Agent 22. From the way her grandmother had put it, it wasn't really her fault that FOWL had abducted Webby, but Mrs. Beakley blamed herself anyway. Webby hugged her knees to her chest again and Lena's hand fell away.

How could Lena say she belonged in McDuck Manor after what she'd done? But if she didn't stay here, she had nowhere else to go. She was trapped.

"Hey, I got service," Lena said and waved her phone. "And it's staying, not flickering in and out. Did you want to call someone?"

Webby's phone showed no bars. She suspected FOWL might've been jamming the signal since, technically, Webby didn't need the burner phone anymore. However, she wasn't going to junk it. It had Dewey's voicemails on it. Like Lena, he'd told her he didn't blame her for what she'd done. He thought they were kindred spirits, meant to be together, and it was stupid, it was cliche, but Webby had loved it regardless. It was far more romantic than anything she'd ever encountered here.

He'd told her that even if he didn't know off the bat how to make her happy, he'd be willing to give it a shot. No one had ever said that to her either. No one had ever made an effort to cheer her up before she'd gone to Duckburg. She closed her eyes and vowed that if SHUSH came here, if her grandmother was alive, she wouldn't resist. Even though she was pretty sure that the Duck boys would be suspicious (and rightfully so), maybe things would be better than here. Hell, anything had to be better than constantly looking over her shoulder in case Black Heron struck.

"I don't know anyone's phone number but Dewey's," she admitted, chagrined. "Plus, there's a possibility that they're monitoring all calls in and out of HQ."

Lena scowled. "That's true. All right, we need to find transportation out of here. Got any suggestions?"

Webby glanced up at the security cameras. If they were going to escape, then they'd need to disable the cameras. That meant entering the control room, which Webby hadn't ever been shown but she had a general idea of where it might be. A general idea might be wrong, but she'd committed the map to memory the third time that someone had gone into her room and destroyed it. Privacy was non-existent in FOWL HQ.

"We have to disable the security cameras, but I don't know the system," she admitted. "I was taught hacking-" and had used those skills to funnel money illegally into FOWL's funds-"but that doesn't mean I can turn them off. I don't know where the security room is, either, and it's not like FOWL believes in labeling anything."

"Why make things too easy?" Lena grumped. She brightened. "I might be able to help. I can astral project myself and see if I can find the camera room that way."

Webby frowned, shaking her head. "It'd take too long. By the time we found it, they'd be onto us."

She contemplated this. It wasn't like they could escape on foot, not if they were in the middle of Siberia. And while Russian was one of the many languages she spoke, she wouldn't be able to use it to commandeer a vehicle unless they were near enough to civilization. Knowing FOWL, they had put themselves in a remote location miles away from any unlikely inhabitants, save those who lived in prison camps. Webby gnawed the inside of her beak.

If she used Lena's phone, she assumed Lena had contacts within the Duck family besides Dewey. But they were in America; by the time they reached them, assuming that the lines were tapped, FOWL would be several steps ahead. No matter how she looked at it, escape was infeasible at the moment without further planning. And that meant that she had to have Black Heron on her back.

"You can't fly, can you?" Webby asked desperately and the other girl shook her head.

"My aunt can with a broom, but I've never tried," she said. "And it probably has to be a special broom. I don't actually know that much about magic to be able to pick it out. Plus, we're in the middle of a frozen tundra."

"The cold air and exposure would kill us long before we found sanctuary," Webby added, suppressing a sigh.

"Your dad's Steelbeak, right?" Lena asked and Webby nodded.

"He knows that Black Heron hates me and wants me dead," she replied. "He's never let her seriously hurt me, but he's like all other FOWL agents. You have to prove how tough you are constantly. If you get attacked, it's your own fault for being vulnerable."

"Sounds like Magica's logic," Lena muttered.

"I know where the armory is," Webby said. "We can arm ourselves against Black Heron while we scope out HQ. And this place is huge-scoping it out will take some time. We should probably grab some food too."

Lena nodded. "Hole ourselves up in your room so that way, if someone's coming, we'll be ready."

Webby agreed. There was a knot in her chest that made it hurt to breathe, like the darkness within FOWL HQ had physically manifested itself in her lungs. Perhaps that was guilt and misery. Lena had said Mrs. Beakley was a "tough old bird". Might that mean that Scrooge was misleading Webby to see where her true loyalties were?

"They probably have to physically touch my phone to hack it," Lena said after a minute. "So it should be safe."

Cell-phone hacking was not among Webby's skill set. Steelbeak hadn't wanted her to have access to any type of telecommunication device, save for wiring money from one account to another. He'd set up firewall after firewall to prevent her from being able to speak with anyone. Come to think of it, that wasn't exactly the act of a loving father. Then again, Webby had known from an early age that Steelbeak didn't actually love her; he considered her a possession of his. As such, she didn't have the right to autonomy.

"Did you want to talk to Scrooge?" Lena asked, waving the phone at her. "I can call him up."

Unable to speak, Webby just nodded. Her throat was tight and she was apprehensive of what this phone call might portend.

"I don't know if the cameras record audio and video or just video," Webby said, frowning. "I want to talk to him, but it might not be worth the risk. They're bound to be eavesdropping on us, even without your phone being bugged."

"So, what? We're supposed to use sign language?" Lena asked, exasperated.

"You don't know sign language, do you?"

"And you do?"

"Well, yeah, it was part of my training…" she said, sheepish. It hadn't occurred to her until just now that most children didn't receive that type of training. She didn't know what kind of childhood Lena had had, either. In fact, when it came to Lena, Webby knew next to nothing. Lena's powers and her potential threat level had been in the dossier FOWL had issued, but nothing about her history, because FOWL considered that on a need to know basis. And, of course, Webby didn't fit the "need to know".

Lena studied Webby for a minute and then shook her head with a grimace.

"I guess we're gonna have a very quiet afternoon," Lena said. "Because I don't know how to sign and last time I checked, telepathy was not a thing."

And since she didn't know if there was a security camera in her room, she couldn't tell whether they saw her writing, either. Since they'd destroyed her maps, they must've had some way of knowing what she did in there. That could've been through the cleaning crew too. Webby couldn't lock her door.

"While we wait and see if your crazy handler decides if she's going to try to kill you," Lena added. "You're popular."

Webby didn't have a working cell phone, but she did have a communicator on her belt. It buzzed; okay, "communicator" was overselling it. It was closer to an old beeper and instead of showing the number, it showed the person trying to contact her. She only ever received calls from two people-Steelbeak and Black Heron. She had the sense Black Heron had said all she needed to Webby, which left one other person.

"Steelbeak," she said. She didn't know if Lena would be safe wandering HQ on her own; she doubted Steelbeak would let Lena listen in on a private conversation. They were standing at present in the middle of a hallway wide enough to drive a truck through with cement floors and walls. It looked like an army outpost or, rather, what she assumed one looked like. Not having had encountered many things in real life, she guessed and imagined a lot.

"I'll wait outside," Lena said. "I'm not gonna stroll around HQ and wait for Black Heron or Aunt Magica to pick me off."

Webby thought it likely that either of those two could do so while Lena was waiting for Webby, but she didn't say it. She didn't want to complicate the situation.

"I'll be okay," she promised Webby. Webby knew none of her thoughts showed on her face-Steelbeak had drilled that into her and only times of extreme distress did she falter in that-but Lena must've been able to guess.

"I'm a big girl. I can protect myself. Besides," she added, "no one wants me dead."

Webby swallowed hard. Unlike her.


Steelbeak gestured lazily toward a chair and his daughter sat, looking uncomfortable. Yes, he'd just spoken with her earlier but in light of what Black Heron had told him, he thought they needed to have another chat about Webby's priorities.

"I met with Heron," he said without preamble. "She had an interesting story to tell me about your real reactions to your grandmother's death."

"I'm fine," Webby said emotionlessly.

"That's not how she tells it," he responded. "She wanted my permission to 'handle' you and the problem you're posing. She seems to think you're not a real FOWL agent, that you're not dedicated to our cause. Of course, she's said this before, but...I'm starting to wonder if she might be right."

He rose to his feet. "We fed you. We nurtured you and your natural abilities. We clothed you. We took care of you. You don't have right to turn your back on us."

"You also kidnapped me," Webby muttered.

"For your own good," he said. "Your grandmother doesn't have the coldness required to raise a cold-blooded killer."

His eyes narrowed. "Were we too lenient on you? Is that why you have a guilty conscience? Should we have set your first kill at a younger age? You shouldn't have a conscience at all. No good FOWL agent does."

He clucked his beak at her. "I killed my parents when they got in the way. And you can't even handle Agent 22?"

She cast her gaze downward and he growled.

"Look at me when I speak to you," he snapped. "You're not showing me proper respect, Webbigail. Like I said, I'm starting to think Black Heron might have a point. You might not be FOWL material."

She looked up and he stepped around his desk to grip her shoulders tightly, painfully, digging his thumbs into the tender flesh. She didn't cry out, but the pain was evident around her eyes. He smirked. Good.

"You know what we do to agents who aren't good enough to join our ranks?" he asked and she nodded.

"Tell me," he ordered.

"You kill them," she said. Her voice was faint, a ghost of its normal self.

"Exactly," he said. "I wouldn't want to have to kill my daughter, not when I put so much time and effort and resources into raising her. But if you can't hack it, Webbigail, then I'm not gonna have much of a choice, am I?"

He dug his thumbs in deeper and was rewarded with a small gasp. She was afraid. Good.

"Just something to keep in mind on your next mission," he said.

"Which is?" she asked. Her voice trembled slightly.

"I installed a spy program on your phone," he said and then smirked. "Did you think I didn't? I know that Duck boy keeps calling you. I've heard the voicemails. Pathetic."

Webby froze and the blood drained from her face.

"Prove to me you can neutralize him and we'll welcome you back with open arms. Until then, you're on probation. And if you don't bring me back a sign that you've eliminated him within, let's say, a week…" He let the threat hang in the air and she swallowed hard.

"Capiche?"

She nodded, looking sick. Why was he even giving her this chance? He knew she'd botch it. Was he just postponing the inevitable? She was going to end up keeping Dewey Duck from harm. But the only way she could do that would be if she eliminated herself from the picture.

He pushed her away with one final dig into her flesh and she cried out, eyes wide.

"Get packed," he instructed. "You're leaving within the hour."

He would be sorry if he had to kill her. After all, she was half of him. He'd failed as a parent to warp her into the right individual. This was on him.

And maybe he'd let Black Heron tag along on this little adventure, in case Webby didn't understand just how high the stakes were.