Special thanks to Dalek for the more reaper based parts of this chapter!

BT: :)

A bear: yeah, for sure, its why I love you write :D

Jo: well, I do like to have my stories affect people a lot

Ninja: Foreshadowing ;)

Ilovebhna: Thank you! And spoilers

Caetlyn: More on the way!

Realisty check: It's interesting you brogue that up, because that is a theme we'll be exploring in the final chapters :)

ooo

Success was always short-lived, especially during missions like these.

Or at least, that was Lena's own opinion.

After finally dismantling the unstable C.I.L.E, Lena assumed that the two groups would regroup, take down Black Heron, and finally have a moment's worth of peace. What she wasn't expecting was to find half the team, including Reaper, severely hurt and unconscious.

"Oh my God…" Fenton weakly managed.

Lena roughly shoved her way past Fenton and Gandra, sharply gasping at everyone's condition. She immediately held her hands out, and from her palm escaped wisps of her magic. She quickly scanned the severity of their injuries, and delivered her verdict.

"Beakley, Huey, and Scrooge are alright. It's Webby who I'm worried about…"

Webby was as pale as a sheet. Lena grunted, motioning for Louie to lift Webby. Louie carefully scooped her up, ignoring the way Webby's body flopped around limply in his arms. Her head lolled against his chest, and Louie finally noticed how cold she was. Her light hair drifted around her ghostly pale face. In the year he had known her, Webby had hardly ever sat still, even in her sleep.

The stillness made his blood run cold.

Louie leaned his head down to press a fierce kiss to Webby's overheated brow.

"You are not allowed to die," he told her thickly. "Hang on, Webbs. Hang on."

ooo

Dewey groaned: he felt awful.

Pain flared in his left wrist, and he could tell that the nasty cuts on his arm and collarbone were left unattended to. His insides felt like they had been frozen and then microwaved, which didn't really surprise him, considering he had been electrocuted in a massive pool of water.

With some difficulty, he opened his left eye—his right eye was swollen shut. He didn't know exactly where he was, but he was lying on a cold, metallic, dental chair, with his arms bound to the armrests. Wicked sharp tools were laid next to him on a small table, and there was a small mirror propped up against the table. He gazed into it, recoiling at his own reflection: there was a vicious gash on his cheek, his disheveled hair was matted with soot and blood, and he had a nice shiner on his right eye. Softly whining in pain, he closed his burning eye, and concentrated on his breathing.

There were soft footsteps behind him, gradually becoming louder. Dewey stirred at the noise, and two fingers pried his eyes open. He yelped in pain at the roughness used with his right eye, and found himself staring into Infiltrator's red irises.

"What do you want with me?" He was surprised at the gruffness within his own tone. "Why didn't you kill me?"

She stayed silent, and let go of her harsh grip on his eyelids, which throbbed. Dewey grew frustrated with the robot.

"I think that I can answer that for you, Dewford." a condescending voice came from the shadows.

He craned his neck to find Heron smirking down at him. Dewey let out a puff of annoyance, and she frowned, like she was offended.

"Am I boring you, Dewford?"

He grumbled. "No, I'm just tired of you thinking that you're going to get away with this."

To his surprise, she laughed. "Feisty. Just like your brother." she noted.

Dewey's anger grew at her comment, but he managed to swallow his rage.

"But, that's where you're wrong. I'm not naïve just like my fellow F.O.W.L agents: I don't blindly believe I'm going to get away with it."

He perked up at this. "What do you want?" he bit out through clenched teeth.

She ignored his question. "I've accepted my defeat. I'm outnumbered, and the C.I.L.E is now inoperative… so you're probably wondering why you're still here, and why I even bothered taking you in the first place."

She slipped on a pair of surgical gloves.

"Today is my death date, Dewey, I know I'm going to die. And you are going to be a huge part of it." she laughed harshly.

"What do you mean? What are you talking about?!" he growled.

"Oh, you'll see. But first, I just need to study that little bomb instilled inside of your neck."

Dewey's eyes widened. Heron slipped on a mask over his mouth, and activated a machine a few feet away. A sweet scent filled his nostrils; he recognized it as the smell of nitrous oxide. Dewey's eyes rolled to the back of his head, and they became heavy.

The last thing he remembered seeing was Heron advancing towards him with a small blade.

ooo

"—itical condition. She doesn't look so good."

Webby felt something light and feathery prodding at different parts of her body, which she recognized as Lena's magic swirling around her. She stirred as Lena nursed her back to health.

"She's waking up," a female voice—her grandmother's—spoke next to her.

Webby coughed, and shuddered. She felt completely horrible. Her body felt like it had been left in a freezer for 2 weeks, and was brought out to thaw in the blistering hot sun. She felt sickly and weak, and barely managed to open her eyes.

"G-granny?" she choked out in a raspy voice.

Beakley repositioned herself so that her granddaughter's head was comfortably nestled on her nap. "It's alright, dear, we were just involved in a nasty fight."

Her grandmother looked pretty rough too, and small flashes of the fight made themselves prominent in Webby's mind—the details were still fuzzy, though.

"Nasty is an understatement," Henry grumbled. "When we came, all of you guys were unconscious and hurt badly." he said pointedly, much of his frustration directed at Reaper: the bot who constantly bragged about how nobody could ever beat him in a fight.

Reaper, who looked smaller than Webby had remembered, hung his head in shame.

Henry glared at Reaper. "I thought you were the most powerful combatant created in F.O.W.L's history! How could you have been taken down this easily—"

"Don't!" Webby snapped harshly, glaring daggers at Henry. "If it wasn't for Reaper, all of us would've been dead. He only went down trying to protect us."

There was an uneasy silence.

"I can vouch for him," Beakley spoke softly.

Everyone gasped, now there was a surprise. Never in a million years would anyone have expected that Bentina Beakley would come to Reaper's defense.

Gandra scoffed. "Lay off the bot, Princess, he held his own in that fight. Which is more than you can say for yourself."

Henry snarled, but Gandra paid him no attention.

"Now is not the time, Gandra," Huey spoke, and Gandra was stunned at his forwardness. Nobody aside from Fenton had ever stood up to her. The coldness in the eldest triplet's eyes made her feel uneasy, and a silent understanding passed through them. "Dewey's gone, and Heron has him. The mission isn't even close to being over."

That statement was enough to shake Webby out of her weariness. Adrenaline surged throughout her body, and she lurched forward. "Dewey!" she gasped, remembering the final bits of the fight, but Lena held her back.

"You need to take it easy," Lena warned.

Webby took a deep breath.

"He's alive," Reaper confirmed quietly.

Beakley checked her watch. "Heron has no choice but to keep him alive: S.H.U.S.H reinforcements will be here soon, but they can't take her down unless we know that Dewey is safe."

Louie growled in frustration. "Then what? We wait until Heron comes out with an ultimatum?"

"Unfortunately," Fenton said softly. "I think that's the best option."

She took a deep breath. "What if you died on that adventure? When Reaper inserted the bomb into your neck? It would've been my fault." she spat.

"Webbs," he gently said. "None of this is your fault. I'm the one who chose to come, remember?"

"Well, there's a bomb inside of you!" she snapped.

"But I'm still alive, aren't I?" he asked calmly.

She stayed silent.

"As long as you're alive, I won't leave your side." he promised.

"Promise?" she asked warily.

"I swear," he said solemnly.

Dewey held his arms out and Webby snuggled up against him. Dewey rubbed her lower back soothingly.

"We're only 18," Webby said, her big innocent eyes looking up at him. "And I'm scared that something might happen."

"Webby, nothing will happen." Dewey assured.

"How do you know, Dewey?!" Webby snapped, tearing up.

Dewey's eyes widened and he was obviously taken aback. Clearly this had been bothering her for a long time.

"I want a future with you." Webby said, blushing.

Dewey blushed. A future with Webby? It was beyond his wildest dreams.

"But I'm scared I won't get that because of all these constant threats! What if something happens to one of us? Dewey, I-I can't live without you." Webby said, letting her tears fall.

Dewey kissed her.

"Webby, I can't live without you either. I want a future with you too."

She blushed.

"But you need to stop worrying about everything." Dewey said.

Webby hesitated. "But the bomb—"

"—can't do anything to me as long as nobody detonates it," he finished. "And as long as you're by my side, nothing can hurt me, Webby. So, will you stay with me?" he asked.

"Stabilize him and get him up and running," came Heron's voice: she sounded satisfied. "Everything's about to fall into place."

Dewey felt hands—multiple of them—lift him off of the dental chair, and onto what he assumed was a gurney. They ushered him out of the mystery room, and Dewey's head jostled at the bumps and grooves on their path. His eyes slowly fluttered open, and recognized the room as where Heron had kept the C.I.L.E.

He also noticed a large number of Eggheads armed and ready to fight. Dewey panicked, but his body was bone-tired. He couldn't do anything. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Heron speaking to one of her guards, and the guard was writing down whatever she was saying.

ooo

When Lena deemed them fully healed, and the gang sat down, unsure of what to do: they heard somebody shuffling behind them, and soon enough, everyone was in a fighting stance:

A single woman donning an Egghead uniform was holding a piece of paper. She bunched it up into a ball, and threw it at them, where it rolled to Webby's feet. With that, she calmly exited the room.

"This must be it." Webby said, bending down to reach the paper. She cleared her throat before reading it aloud:

"Scrooge,

I'm not going down without a fight—if you want your nephew back, meet me in the C.I.L.E's former chamber. I'm keeping him alive: just barely."

Webby was trembling. "Oh my God, Dewey…"

Huey placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Webby, it's okay. He's alive, and that's the important part."

"Well, I—"

SNAP!

Everyone whipped around to find Henry stiff, with wide eyes. Sally screamed. He looked down in shock to find that a blade had pierced its way through his body. A F.O.W.L agent, who wore loose black robes, stood behind Henry. Henry stumbled back into his perpetrators arms, stunned when he recognized him.

"B-Blot?!" Henry croaked weakly.

Everyone was encased in a ghostly pale magical aura tinged in an emerald green, stunning them from moving.

"I'm sorry, Henry," the agent sounded deeply rueful, like he didn't want to even think about doing something like this. "It was a direct order… from your mother."

Scrooge sucked in a gasp. "My word…"

Blot gently stroked Henry's auburn locks back, kissing his forehead. "I'm so sorry, Henry." Tears fell from his eyes, where it splashed onto Henry's cheek.

Henry just shuddered, and coughed violently, splattering his robes with scarlet droplets. "M-my mother made you do this?" Blot nodded, confirming Henry's question. A rogue tear slid down his face, and he shook violently in Blot's arms.

Then, he went still.

Sally screamed for her fiancée, but Blot ignored her animalistic cries. He gently set Henry down, grabbed another blade, and drove it into Henry's chest again, squashing any last hope that he might be alive. Sally howled, shaking with impotent rage.

Blot stood back, and whispered a small prayer. Wisps of green magic swirled around Henry, encasing him in the ghostly green light. When Blot was finished reciting the hymn, Henry's body was gone.

And with that, Blot left too.

"It's been taken care of." Blot murmured, showing Heron his bloodied hands.

"Good." was all Heron could say.

The gang was still in shock from what had happened. It happened so fast, so quickly. How were they supposed to continue in a state like this?

Webby was still speechless, and Sally was inconsolable. Louie and Lena were having a hushed conversation, while Scrooge and Beakley were unsure of what to do. Huey looked at the spot, no emotions evident in his eyes, and Fenton was stunned.

Gandra?

She was very still. There was no mirth in her azure eyes, or a single emotion present. She stared at the spot where Henry's blood was smeared against the floor, studying it intently. Finally, she took a deep, shaky breath, and spoke.

"This was predestined… ever since you guys murdered Steelbeak. Heron wanted for this to happen."

Scrooge frowned. "What do you mean by predestined? Steelbeak's demise was months ago—"

Reaper took over. "The plans for the C.I.L.E only ever happened because Henry was enraged about his father's death. After Steelbeak was given information to break Black Heron out of prison, he ordered a task force."

Louie's eyes flickered with recognition. "I remember that…"

Reaper nodded. "But, after Della shot him, who do you think took over the job of freeing Heron?"

Webby sighed heavily. "Henry."

Reaper nodded in confirmation. "After you guys left the Lighthouse, Henry was the one who found his father's plans and information regarding his mother. He was furious at your guys' gall, and audacity to shoot his father. But Heron? Heron had been planning this for years."

This troubled Beakley. "If Heron has been planning for years, why has she been so careless about her actions? Why didn't she send many Eggheads after us?"

"An ulterior motive." Louie confirmed quietly, his former doubts now clicking into place. "This may seem like a careless mission, but it's a precise, and well calculated plan. We've walked right into Heron's trap."

"What ulterior motives?" Gandra scoffed.

Scrooge was about to tell her off when he realized they might have been getting closer to Huey's trauma, when Huey himself spoke up instead.

"She wants to affect us on a personal scale. That's why she murdered her own son. It was a message that if we didn't follow her ultimatum, she wouldn't hesitate to kill my brother."

Webby nervously glanced at Huey, scared of what he'd say next.

"As for me," he whispered. "She violated me."

The gang, even Gandra, gasped at that.

Webby didn't want to hear this. Hear his trauma. Hear what she had done to him.

Instead, she drifted away from the conversation at that point, and quietly made her way towards the grieving Sally. Sitting down next to her, Webby pulled the older woman into a tight hug. Sally melted into her embrace, and trembled.

"I-I left things so bad with him." she whispered, surprisingly coherent.

"I know," Webby returned solemnly. "But now is not the time to grieve about it, Sally. We need to take her down. For Infiltrator. For Henry."

Sally sniffled. "She's dead."

The two women shared a moment of mutual respect for one another with a curt nod.

Webby was about to move on with rescuing Dewey when a metallic hand halted her. She looked up at Reaper, whose face was ever neutral, almost nothing could be surmised from it, but Webby had a feeling that it, no he, was hurt.

"Webbigail, before you go… I have something to give you," Reaper softly whispered, his voice the most subdued she's ever heard.

Webby blinked twice as her brain processed what she had just heard before nodding. Together, they moved slightly away from the main group, coming to a stop at a doorway. Knowing that time was against them, Webby placed her hands on her hips and gave Reaper the classic "hurry up" look.

"I know this is probably a bit rude, but can you please make this quick. We have to rescue Dewey right now, and stop Heron once and for all!"

"I understand, Webbigail, but this is something that must be given, due to the probability of…" Reaper stated as he reached to the back of his head. He took out a chip that reminded Webby of the old floppy disks that her Grandma used to use as practice targets for her throwing skills. It was much sleeker and looked more modern.

"What's that?" Webby spoke out suddenly, without control, then winced as she realised she had interrupted him. This was really unlike her. The mission was really starting to get to her.

"A storage device, with all of the data and memories I have of F.O.W.L, and your father," Reaper answered, seemingly unfazed by Webby's reaction. "It also contains the schematics of both my body and my brain, as well as the process used to create me. You can also say that it contains a copy of my soul."

She gasped as she realized the importance of that device. The only full record of her dad was in Reaper only beforehand, and now it was in the device now. Not only that, but Reaper's entire self was practically copied into it, meaning that once she was given that device, she would have the knowledge over Reaper, being able to make more of him, alter him or control him.

"Why…" she trailed off. She couldn't help but be suspicious. Yes, she trusted him, yes he had saved her life on multiple occasions, but it was still out of character for the old robot. "...are you giving this to me now?" Webby asked numbly.

"Because I have no wish to survive this fight!" he snapped harshly.

The bold statement, and the anger within it threw Webby off. Never had Reaper shown as much emotion as he did now. She couldn't help but take a step back as the statement repeated itself within her head.

Seeing how Webby reacted, Reaper gave off the robotic equivalent of a sigh and started to explain himself.

"I may have been built by your father, and contain part of his essence and personality, but I was built sorely for combat. Not only that, but Infiltrator and Henry, my sister and dad, the only ones who I could live a different existence with, are now dead. There's a new Infiltrator model running about, but it can never be her. The only thing that I can live for is to protect you, but I am a greater hindrance to you than an asset. A constant reminder of F.O.W.L and its legacy. I do not wish to be that. Thus, I must die, and take the false Infiltrator down with me."

Webby's mouth opened up, but anything she wanted to say was stuck in her throat. Without realizing it, she began to cry as she realised how much Reaper had become part of her life recently. The only source of information about her dad, and her protector.

And now he was going to die.

"Don't fret, Webbigail. I may be dead soon, but with this data, you don't have to limit the amount of sentient robots to just me and Infiltrator. A prototype of both Henry's and my soul is in there, so if you want a form of me to live on, you can do so with this. Just, I ask you to find what remains of Infiltrator's soul in Heron's systems and add it to this disk. That way, you can remake our legacy in your image."

"You want me to make another you?"

"No," he said patiently. "I want you to make two robots that aren't forced to be a killing machine or a spy. Two robots that you can live with, two robots that can choose their own paths, and two robots with their own souls: a male and female, that use mine and Infiltrators as a base. Not a reincarnation or rebirth. Just a way for something new to grow."

Webby stood silent for a moment, then nodded. "I will."

"Thank you," Reaper said as he handed the device to Webby, who held it as if it was the most fragile thing in existence.

She looked up at him. Deep down, she wanted to say 'I forgive you'. Deep down, she wanted to hug him, and say 'Thank you'. Instead she said, "Give them hell."

Reaper nodded and together they rejoined the McDuck Clan.

"I'll act as a diversion, drawing out the false Infiltrator," Reaper stated. "You guys go in and get Dewford."

ooo

Blot stared at his bloodied palms, all a severe reminder of what he had done. The sorcerer was quite fond of the young agent, and was a close friend of his mother… but he had never expected his end to come like this. From his own hands.

Pepper was trying her best to console her partner. "Blot, it isn't your fault. You are merely a weapon to her."

"I'm sick of it." he whispered. "Of all of it! I'm tired of this, Pep, tired of being a pawn."

"So what do you want to do?"

"Staying here is a suicide mission," he spoke softly. "Let's just go!"

She sucked in a breath. "I can't just go, Blot! I…" she sighed. "She's gone mad. I can't let those innocent agents get hurt because of Heron's crooked crown."

Blot closed his eyes. "If we don't leave, we'll be the ones getting hurt!"

"I know!" she half snapped in anger, half cried at how frustrated she was about how right he was. Pepper groaned, burying her face in her hands. "And I want to go with you."

"Then let's just go!" he tried.

"I…" she trailed off. "Let's go." she decided.

He looked shocked. "Right now?"

She nodded rapidly. "You're right. Heron is a lost cause. There's no saving her."

Blot just sighed. "Nobody in F.O.W.L can be saved."

ooo

Beakley quickly radioed the S.H.U.S.H reinforcements to tell them the best way to enter the old caves. Soon enough, their small room was now populated by hundreds of armed S.H.U.S.H agents, all ready to take one of their biggest foes down.

Scrooge banged his cane on the floor to get the crew's attention.

"Heron isn't the priority here. My nephew is. If he isn't brought home alive… all of you better brace yourself for the sailor that'll be up your arse." he grumbled, referring to the hot-headed Donald.

Webby took over. "Reaper has volunteered to go in and act as a distraction. Also to draw out the second robot," she continued gravely. "This second bot; if she makes contact with you, you're as good as dead. Be cautious."

Beakley stood up. "It isn't going to be easy, and it'll get bloody. But remember why we're here: to put a stop to this once and for all."

The crowd cheered.

ooo

"I know you're there." Heron admitted, and Reaper's scarlet eyes glowed with a vicious light. "What? You want to kill me."

"More than ever," the bot snarled. "More than I ever wanted to slice anyone open, and watch them bleed out. You killed my sister. And more importantly, you ordered the hit out on your own son, you sick fucking pig."

Heron looked unfazed. "Do it then. I'm defenseless, and I have only one arm."

"Because I'm not a moron," he bit back, his fingers itching to end her right there. "I know you've reactivated Dewford's bomb, and I'm not going to do anything dumb to make you want to detonate it with that remote so cleverly concealed in your pocket."

Heron folded her arms.

Reaper bravely took another step towards her, fully aware of his "sister" preparing to attack him. "And it's not my place, nor my destiny to kill you. You will die at the hands of someone more worthy to end your life, and put an end to your reign."

She smirked. "F.O.W.L will prevail. My death won't do much."

He ignored her. "You have something I want. And I need him back."

Heron smirked. "And similarly, it isn't your place to rescue the blue one. She will come to rescue her beloved."

Reaper scowled. "What do you plan on doing to Webbigail?"

Her eyes flashed manically. "Same thing I did with Hubert. Affect her on a more personal scale."

Realizing that there was a very real possibility of Dewey dying, Reaper charged at Heron, only to be knocked down by Infiltrator. He glared at her murderously.

"You waste of metal, you have the gall to take form in my sister's body?" he barked, viciousness laced in his tone. "I'll show you!"

He charged right back at her, and his size came to his advantage. Reaper knocked his 'sister' over, and held his stub of an arm out. Out sprouted a USB like object, and Reaper jammed it into Infiltrator's neck. But he didn't stop there. After the bot was knocked unconscious, he tore her to shreds—literally.

Behind him, he could hear the battle unfolding, meaning that Webby was somewhere underneath him, close to Dewey.

He focused back on his own battle. Reaper slammed his fist into her eye, making it crack, and Reaper reached inside, pulling at the wires that connected to her brain. The rogue bot finally went limp, and he finally came down from his anger rush.

BANG!

Reaper looked down at the nice sized hole that was embedded in his back. He turned around to find Heron holding a sleek and expensive looking firearm, and he growled.

"Bullets can't harm me."

She smirked. "Normal bullets can't," she agreed. "Platinum bullets can. You really thought Henry, Steelbeak, and I would construct you without any weakness?"

She shot another one into him, this one in his shoulder. "You're a stupid robot! You could go haywire!"

Another shot. Reaper collapsed.

"But me? I'm a person. I have control over my own body." Heron laughed. Reaper snarled, but to her, he looked no less threatening than a wounded puppy. "Your time is done, Reaper. Your service is no longer needed."

She fired another bullet: this one in his eye, making the glass explode. Pitch black oil trickled down his face, and he scowled up at Heron.

"Before you finish anything… c-can I just say one last thing?"

Heron looked conflicted, but allowed it.

"I forgive you."

This enraged the agent, who emptied the contents of her rifle into the old robot.

Meanwhile, Lena, who had been busy smashing two Egghead's together, collapsed, her head throbbing. Louie panicked, and caught his girlfriend before she could fall.

"Lena!"

"T-the death…" she whispered. "It happened. I sensed it." she mumbled. "It was R-Reaper."

With that, Lena lost consciousness. Louie dragged her out of harm's way.

ooo

After releasing a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding, Heron made her way towards the actual battle. The S.H.U.S.H agents were dominating her own, and she grumbled.

Heading towards the injured blue triplet, and held him up menacingly.

"ENOUGH!" she thundered over the battle, holding a remote.

Webby's eyes widened at what it was. "She wouldn't."

Beakley studied her carefully. She looked unnerved, more than usual. Whatever she had just been through messed her up mentally. She looked frightened, like she had seen a ghost.

Then her expression hardened, and her harsh grip tightened on Dewey, who hissed in pain. Her thumb made its way towards a small remote, and everyone—F.O.W.L agents included—gasped.

"NO!" Webby shrieked, grasping for something, anything, as Heron's thumb made its way down towards the button that was going to end Dewey's life.

His eyes met hers, widening in concern and shock. "WEBBY, GO!" he shouted. If she stayed here now, it didn't matter: they were all doomed. In the midst of all the chaos, he took a deep breath, bracing himself for what was to come next. He smiled at her, and mouthed the words I love you.

BOOM!

ooo

Yes. That happened.

—Jordan :)