First off:
600?!
AM I SEEING THAT CORRECTLY? 600 REVIEWS FOR THIS CHAOTIC STORY?! HOLY CRAP!
Guest: Even if the show gets picked up again by Disney, then what? The damage has been done. Frank rushed through Season 3, and he ruined what made the show enjoyable.
BT: I have not seen the new trailer! In fact, I haven't watched a single Space Jam movie DD:
Guest: I'm a simple man—if I see 2 people who I like together, I ship :)
Guest: ;)
Ninja: You and me both, brother
Jo: I do ship it, don't worry! And no, it want inspired by that scene
Bhna: :))))
RANDOM: Probably my favourite chapter by far :)
Caetlyn: Oh my god, I haven't heard from you in months, I was so worried! Where have you been?
Aspen: Thank you so much, it actually means a lot :) don't worry, the huelet will come soon
Guest: Thank you!
Onwards!
ooo
Last Night:
The rain soaked streets of Duckburg reflected the lights of the buildings—Heron knew it would be raining for a couple of days, and she often sought solace inside the soothing noise. It brought back old memories, from when she was young and carefree…
Henry and Heron had just come back from a long mission, and all she wanted to do was to go home, and curl up into bed. But, they were waiting for their ride back to headquarters, and walking back wasn't an option for her, considering it was pouring rain outside.
"C'mon, Heron," Henry elfishly grinned. "The rain won't kill you! Besides, the base is only 3 blocks away. Is there really a need to call a ride?" he pleaded.
Heron scoffed. "Vanderquack, do you have any idea how long it takes to accomplish this much volume?" she questioned, gesturing to her voluptuous hair. "It'll be ruined in that downpour!"
Henry shrugged. "Suit yourself." he commented, kicking off his shoes.
His icy blue eyes had a playful glint in them as he stepped into the rain barefoot, smiling as the droplets made contact with his body, patting down his hair. He jumped into a puddle, splashing and kicking the water away with his foot. His clothes soon became soaked, and matted with soot and mud, but Henry didn't seem to care. As he turned to his friend, she noticed that his unkempt light hair was plastered across his glistening forehead. Heron spotted a huge smile on his face; he looked so carefree—a rare feeling whenever one worked for F.O.W.L.
Heron suddenly felt wistful, and took a small step forward. Henry took notice, and grinned.
"Well, look who decided to join me," he teased, grabbing her hand and yanking her into the rain.
Shaking out of her memories, Heron gazed at the city that she now called hers, frowning when she saw a lone taxi idling down an empty street past the featureless gray municipal buildings: that was strange. Nobody was to be in or out of the city—so why was it here? The cab trundled off, looking for a late night fare.
Before Heron could get a good look at who was entering her city, a pair of arms snaked around her waist, and she let loose a shaky moan as she felt his soft lips press against the back of her neck.
"Are you coming?" Huey huskily whispered, placing another kiss against her neck. Though persistent, his voice was bland, and montoned, due to the effects of the C.I.L.E.
She stifled a moan. "I-I just wanted to get some… stuff done." she managed, completely forgetting about the cab.
His kisses became more and more passionate, and Heron found herself more than willing to give in to his ministrations. She turned around, and he was quick to attack her lips in a frenzy of kisses.
She shoved him onto the bed, and Huey flipped them over, quickly getting to work.
Something was definitely going to happen to her tomorrow, but for now, she would enjoy this, and take advantage of his presence.
INTRUDER ALERT!
Heron's eyes snapped open.
The morning sun was streaming through the windows and chasing away the shadows that had haunted the corners of her mind through the night. Huey was still with her, a reassuringly solid presence pressed against her left side. It was a rather hot and sweaty presence, but there was a pleasant overtone to the feeling. She felt completely safe and at ease. She became aware of warm breath tickling her neck and the comforting weight of an arm across her stomach. It was nice to wake up with someone and feel completely relaxed about it. She allowed herself a small chuckle, and savored the knowledge that this might be her last morning.
She slowly disentangled herself from his embrace, not bothering to pull a robe over her figure. Heron spotted her son, Sally, Lena, Louie, Fenton, and Gandra making their way towards the active C.I.L.E, ready to dismantle it. Wait, if they were there, then that meant…
Heron quickly leapt back into bed as the door to her chamber burst open, and in walked Dewey Duck and Webby Vanderquack, followed by her old foes, Scrooge McDuck and ah, Bentina Beakley.
"Oh my god…" Dewey murmured, his jaw open in a mix of awe and shock.
In front of them was a terrifying sight: an erotically disheveled Heron, lying right on top of his righteous older brother as he pawed at her body. She turned her head, and smirked at their stunned expression.
Webby was the first one to snap out of her stupor. "GET OFF HIM!" she snarled, rushing towards Huey, only to be caught in a blur of silver metal.
"Webby!" Dewey shouted, rushing towards her, but Beakley firmly held him back.
In front of them was a robot who looked exactly like the Infiltrator, but there was something unnerving about her appearance: her eyes, which used to be a friendly shade of purple, were now a shade of blazing red. The bot held Webby up by the collar of her shirt with one arm, the other hand holding a tiny blade, gently placed at the base of her throat. Dewey understood why Beakley was holding him back: any sudden moves, and Webby was a goner for sure.
"Well," Heron greeted, standing up, wearing nothing but a lacy maroon bra and panties. "A bit rushed for our first interaction, but it's quite alright." She smiled coldly. "I wish I finished, but you were going to show up sooner or later." she continued, as she grabbed a long robe, draping it over her body. She fastened the string around her waist, and smiled at them.
Dewey stole a glance at Huey: his irises were a bland shade of grey, his shoulders were rigid, and he gazed at them: not a single expression present on his features.
"Heron," Scrooge said tightly, clenching his fists so hard that his knuckles turned a deadly shade of white. "This is low—even for you." He was suddenly glad they hadn't brought along Donald; had he seen Huey in this position, there was no doubt that he would've ripped Heron to shreds.
She laughed. "Why? He's quite a man now that he's all grown up," she laughed, falling back onto the mattress. Huey wasn't fazed, and looked at Heron with an emotionless expression.
Beakley scowled at her former foe. "Heron, you're outmatched. You—"
Heron cut her off. "You don't think I already know that, Bentina?" she snapped harshly. "Of course I know this plan is destined to fail, my son is a complete moron!" she grumbled. "But for now," she smiled, cupping Huey's cheek, "I'm going to enjoy myself."
Webby growled, but 'Infiltrator' pressed the small blade against her throat harder. Heron stalked towards the room, pressing a small panic button on the edge of her bed. Soon enough, an alarm rang throughout her chamber, and their small team was suddenly surrounded by dozens of armed Eggheads. They looked more ruthless than Steelbeak's, and a lot more lethal.
"You're never going to get away with this, Heron!" Webby growled, not caring much about the blade against her throat.
The agent only smirked. "Oh, Webbigail, daughter of my Henry, I already have."
With that, Heron waved them aside, and Webby's eyes welled up with tears as they were ushered out of the room by the killer robot and henchmen. The last thing she saw was Heron mounting Huey.
They were thrown inside a crappy looking cell: Webby threw herself against the door, pounding on them so hard with her fists, that the metal shook.
There was a rough hand on her shoulder, and she looked up to find her grandmother staring at her with a stern expression on her face. "Enough, Webbigail!" she snapped.
"She has Huey, and she's…" Webby could hardly finish the sentence. Her stomach lurched, and she hunched over the small, obviously used toilet towards the corner of the cell, emptying the contents in her stomach.
A figure loomed over her, gently tucking her hair behind her ear, holding it back as she puked into the toilet. A few moments later, she wiped her lip, and looked up, only to be staring into Dewey's dark eyes—she usually knew what he was feeling, and he was an open book, but this time, he was unreadable. She knew that he was just as disgusted as she was, but a silent anger was also present.
"I'm sorry," she desperately tried, feeling awful at the fact that she couldn't even hold her stomach.
"It's okay," he whispered, and she faltered.
Dewey's dark eyes were one shade shy of utter and consuming terror, and his voice was low and gravelly. Long fingers pressed into her skin, and he lifted his hand to curl his fingers around hers, giving it a comforting squeeze.
Webby could only shudder at how false and wrong it felt.
ooo
"Damn!" Louie spat as a bullet whizzed by his ear.
The green triplet dove behind a wall to gain some cover—Heron's Eggheads were nothing but vicious, and the closer they inched towards the C.I.L.E, the nastier and violent they became. He knew that they were fiercely set on protecting the only project that had some form of success.
Truth be told, he didn't expect this much success with his plan: everything was going accordingly. They hadn't faced any obstacles or hurdles during their mission, nor had they faced Heron or her killer bot. The only major things that occured were Huey's kidnapping and Infiltrator's death.
Wait.
Oh God.
There were so many thoughts spiraling through Louie's mind, he was sure his head was about to split into two. The powerful realization was so overwhelming, that he had to clutch his head to suppress and sedate the mighty pounding in his skull: what if Heron's true intention wasn't the C.I.L.E… or even Duckburg?
Louie popped his head out to study the battle going on in front of him: Fenton was easily whizzing past the armed Eggheads, bashing their firearms out of their hands, and knocking them unconscious. Gandra on the other hand was using a more permanent method of silencing the Eggheads. There were about 20 of them left, and despite their ferocity, it seemed to be too easy of a victory over the F.O.W.L agents.
He retreated back into his shelter, and Louie's head throbbed. There was no way that the Black Heron of all villains would be this careless!
Unless there was an ulterior motive… but what?
Think! Louie thought. What is Black Heron planning? If she's setting herself up to fail… how does that benefit her?
What did Heron possibly gain from all this?
"Louie! Down!" screeched Fenton's voice, and he glanced at his side to see an Egghead pointing her rifle right at his temple.
The unmistakable white blur that was Gizmoduck's armour tackled her, the rifle clattering out of her hands. Louie clambered out of his safe spot, and desperately tried to get the Egghead's attention.
"STOP!" Louie screamed over the chaos.
But his voice was as silent as a mouse compared to the chaos unfolding around him. He desperately wanted to tell everyone it was a trap; that he had a bad feeling about this. That Heron didn't give two flying fucks about any of them! Louie stood there in a trance-like state, his mind fogging up as he tried to digest what was unfolding around him. He felt strange, almost empowered with the newfound knowledge he possessed.
Here he was, weaponless, yet, he felt like the most powerful combatant there.
"Wow…" was all that Louie could dumbly muster out.
Everything flew by in slow motion, and he trudged towards the C.I.L.E. Nobody made a move to stop him, everybody was either dead, or too distracted to fight him. He let loose a laugh. It sounded psychotic almost: here they were, killing off F.O.W.L members who believed that their battle actually meant something, when in reality, they were merely Heron's pawns to whatever convoluted plan she had in mind!
His laughter became harder, and he wiped a rogue tear from his eye. The laughter soon became tears, and he began crying instead. It sounded hysterical, but he didn't care.
CREAK!
Louie whipped his head around to find that Gandra had made contact with the C.I.L.E. He simply chuckled, and picked up the rifle that his perpetrator had dropped a few moments ago. He made no move to wipe away the tears trickling down his face and onto his hoodie, and decided to join her.
ooo
Scrooge, Dewey, Webby, and Beakley had been in the tiny cell for a few hours now. They occasionally heard loud crashes and violent noises, which hopefully meant that the other team was making some progress. Scrooge laid down on the hilariously small cot the cell provided, and his legs hung out on the edge. Webby was fragile and pale, still in shock from what she had witnessed with Huey. Her head was against the cell's metal toilet, and strands of her hair fell upon her face. Beakley was next to her granddaughter, consoling her, and gently rubbing her lower back.
And Dewey?
He hadn't spoken a word since he consoled Webby. It was strange. He was Dewford Duck, he couldn't go more than 5 minutes without talking or singing. But this wasn't a 'fun adventure'. Heron was seriously out to get them. He sighed. They weren't heroes, they were just locked up in a cell. 4 measly prisoners—that's what they were.
Dewey decided to address the elephant in the room.
"Huey." He was surprised by his own voice, stunned at how gruff and low it had become; so he straightened himself up, running a nervous hand through his thick locks.
Scrooge and Beakley glanced at each other, but relented.
Dewey continued. "I'm not worried about him now. I'm worried about what's going to happen after—after this is all over." he grumbled.
Scrooge hesitated. "Lad, it's going to be rough, but—"
"There are no 'buts' in this argument, Scrooge!" Dewey hollered, power rolling off his voice. "He is being molested by Black Heron! And worst of all, he doesn't even know it!" he roared, the volume all but shaking the walls.
Scrooge was taken aback by his nephew's fury. Sure, he got angry sometimes, but this? This was different. This was far worse than anything he had ever seen before. It was a wrath barely contained, an animosity so fierce that it seemed to fill the air between them, an anger so violent that his nephew was barely in control. Scrooge kept his head down. Dewey was right. He never would've thought that Heron would sink this low. But rotting in prison for all those recent years had changed her. She was more calm and calculated. Precise. She knew their extremities, and knew exactly where to hit them. Heron took advantage of the fact that the C.I.L.E was a bust, and instead, used it as an opportunity to change the McDuck Clan forever.
Dewey glanced up to find Webby staring at him with wide eyes. Her face turned queasy again, and for the third time, she hurled into the toilet. Hard. Webby sputtered violently, and Beakley was alarmed when she saw speckles of scarlet droplets escape her mouth, and line the toilet rim.
He gasped: his girlfriend was vomiting blood.
"Webbs!" he cried, rushing towards her. He hadn't even thought about the possibility that mentioning the incident with Huey would've been a possible trigger for her.
He gently held her trembling form. Beakley was glaring at him, but he hardly paid any attention to her. God, he was so stupid.
How were they going to get out of this one?
ooo
Lena's intense stare followed her boyfriend as he half laughed, half cried while making his way to the C.I.L.E. She knew any poor soul would lose their mind in a setting like this, but she wasn't expecting it from Louie, given everything he'd been through. Especially with figures like Steelbeak, or even Scrooge. Hell, she was sure Huey kept a list of how many times they were offered as a sacrifice, during one of Scrooge's extreme adventures.
The Eggheads were mostly all down: Lena honestly couldn't tell if they were dead or just unconscious at this point. Louie merrily made his way to the C.I.L.E, ignoring the last remnants of the battle unfolding around him.
"Lena, we need your magic to help lift this." Fenton instructed.
Lena fondly remembered the time where she had convinced Webby and Huey to explore the abandoned subway station all those years ago. She remembered having to use her magic to levitate Beakley out of harm's way, otherwise she would've been crushed underneath that freight train. Lena sighed: things were so much easier back then. Well, not for her, considering she was under her evil Aunt's control, but situations like those were a lot easier. All they had to do back then was deal with an evil sorceress who just wanted to take over Duckburg. Nowadays, they had to take down one machine to stop a multimillion dollar corporation who worshipped the idea of world larceny.
Lena ignored Fenton, marching up to Louie. There were dried tear streaks visible on his cheeks, his eyes were bloodshot; he looked unhinged.
"What is going on with you?" she asked in a hushed tone.
Louie's eyes were glassy, and he grinned, though there was no mirth in his intense irises. "None of this matters."
Lena frowned. "What?"
Louie repeated his earlier statement: "I said none of this matters! Look at all this! Heron wants us to fail!"
Henry perked up at this. "Why would my mother deliberately set us up to succeed?"
Louie knitted his browser together in a tight scrutiny. "I don't know…"
"Louie, don't you think you're overthinking this? Just a little?" Fenton asked warmly.
"Or overestimating Black Heron?" Gandra shot in, narrowing her eyes.
"Hey—" Henry started.
"Don't even try to defend the woman who electrocuted you," Gandra scoffed. "You look dumb enough."
Sighing, Fenton let Gandra's snide comment go for now, and settled his gaze instead on his Louie.
Louie shook his head. "No… it doesn't feel right? The energy is off, guys. I feel like there's something bigger than the C.I.L.E."
The gang all exchanged glances, before Fenton spoke up.
"Maybe you're right, Louie. But first thing's first: let's disable this machine."
ooo
Scrooge pounded against the cell helplessly. It had been more than 8 hours in the prison cell, and his hope for the other team was slowly dying down.
He turned to his crew, who seemed just as disheartened as he was. Scrooge groaned, sliding down against the cell door: what kind of leader was he? What kind of Uncle was he? His nephew was being molested by one of his greatest enemies, they were stuck in a dingy jail cell, and they had no idea what was unfolding around them.
SLIDE!
"Oof!" Scrooge grunted as the metal door slid open behind him, making him tumble backwards.
He looked up only to find himself staring at a swarm of red fabric.
Huey.
He looked pale, and in his hands was a cylindrical metal object, but none of them could make out what it was.
"Huey!" Dewey scrambled to get to his feet, and he was quick to envelope his brother in a bone-crushing hug. "Oh my God!"
Dewey felt awkward when he didn't return the sentiment: Huey's jaw was twitching, and his hands balled into fists as he glared at all of them with cold harsh eyes. His anger didn't seem directed at them, however, but rather himself?
Scrooge stood up, uncomfortable. "Huey? Lad, are you alright?"
"Absolutely fantastic." he hissed in a voice barely above a whisper.
Heron pushes against Huey, needy for more while he fills her, spreading her wide. He knots his fist in her grey streaked locks and tugs: hard enough to elicit a gasp of pleasure, but never hard enough to hurt her. His breath leaves a trail of heat on her neck that shoots right down her spine, meets the heat of his balls slapping lewdly against her thighs as he moves in quicker and harder thrusts. The friction and intensity of it all is fanning a spark through her body.
Then, he stopped, quickly pulling out.
Heron was about to protest, but she was quickly flipped over. A heavy hand pressed against her throat menacingly, blocking off her air supply. Heron struggled for oxygen, and stared into Huey's intense eyes: the grey colour was slowly fading away, returning to its usual onyx shade as his vision cleared: he was gradually slipping into his former self, which meant that the C.I.L.E was destroyed.
Huey's glare was murderous, his eyes bloodshot. His scowl was so deep, Heron practically sensed every ounce of rage he was projecting into his harsh grip on her throat.
"Why?" was all he could quietly ask, and Heron gave him a curt smirk. At this, he became angrier, and his grip on her neck tightened. "Why, Heron?"
Despite the lack of oxygen flowing to her brain, she managed to smile.
Huey growled: he grabbed her metal arm forcefully, and swiftly activated her electrocution ability. Her hand crackled to life, and Huey pressed her palm against her own chest. The bright azure sparks illuminated Huey's features, making him look malevolent. She screamed, but he kept electrocuting her, even after she went unconscious. He let loose a feral, nearly satisfied grunt when he saw white liquid dribble out of her mouth.
The crew looked at him with wide eyes. His hands started to shake. Dewey had never seen his brother this… out of it. It was unsettling.
"She's not dead." Huey confirmed, his tone quiet. "I couldn't bring myself to do it."
He didn't bother looking them in the eye, and held the object in his hand out. Webby felt her stomach lurch when she saw that it was Heron's severed metallic arm. Huey slammed the butt of the arm onto the floor, and Webby winced as the tile cracked.
Stunned, Dewey watched him: one of his hands gripped her arm, and the other was balled in a fist as his shoulders shook. For the first time in his life, Dewey was at a loss of what to do. Huey was as steady as a rock. He never faltered, never broke, was steadfast, and had an annoying habit of taking the entire blame every time something went wrong. Yet here he was, falling to pieces right in front of him.
Huey seemed like a shell of his former self: he had gotten assaulted, and nearly killed his assailant. His entire demeanor resembled that of a lion, whose roar had been taken away from him. He wore his red polo, which was animalistically tattered, and he couldn't bring himself to look directly at his family.
Scrooge noticed that Huey wasn't wearing his headphones. "Your headphones…?"
"Don't need them," he shrugged. "Louie and those guys took care of it."
Dewey quirked a brow, but experimentally slid the uncomfortable headphones off of his head. He braced himself for the worst, but sure enough, nothing happened.
With that, Huey spun around on his heel, and walked out of the cell. The crew shifted uncomfortably, before Scrooge realized that the only way to get out of here was to move forward. They could discuss Huey's predicament later, right now, they had to get out of here.
ooo
Louie texted them the details of their predicament: his team has successfully disassembled the C.I.L.E, and almost wiped out Heron's entire army. Now, all they had to do was find Heron, and get out of there.
They had finally reached a dark cave, which Huey said led up to where they had found Infiltrator's body. Water pipes lined the cave, but Dewey paid no attention to it.
"Going so soon?" a sultry voice asked.
Dewey whipped around to find Heron gazing at them, while a nasty looking robot stood behind her, red eyes glowing malevolently: Infiltrator 2.0. Beakley immediately pushed Huey and Webby behind her, and Dewey and Scrooge growled.
"Oh, please. I'm not interested in any more sexual favours," she murmured, before winking at Huey. "I just need the blue one."
Dewey snarled. "You're defeated, Heron. The C.I.L.E is down, and your crew is almost wiped out."
Heron scoffed. "I already knew that. But, you haven't fought my best agent yet."
With that, she stepped aside to let the robot pass, and before she could make contact with them, a blur of black metal protectively stood in front of Dewey.
Reaper.
"I don't wish to fight you, sister," he said through a thick, staticky voice. "Please don't make me do this." he whispered.
Infiltrator 2.0 looked at him with dead, emotionless eyes. Was it Dewey's imagination, or did her irises flicker from blood red to bright purple?
She held out her arm, and a small blade protruded out of it. Her eyes became brighter now, and she violently jerked the blade towards Reaper, but he wasn't an amateur.
Reaper leapt back, and held his own arms out: two small guns appeared, and he fired at Infiltrator. She whizzed past the bullets, and threw a small ball towards the McDuck Clan.
Dewey realized what it was. "Cover your mouth!" he shouted.
The ball exploded, and sickly sweet gas swirled around them. Dewey recognized the scent from their first mission with Steelbeak: chloroform. One huff of this thing, and he was sure they would fall privy to whatever Heron's convoluted plan was.
The battle raged on behind Dewey, and he could hardly pay attention to anything other than keeping the gas out of his mouth. There was a sharp pull on the collar of his shirt, and he panicked. He let go of his mouth, and breathed in a heavy amount of the chloroform.
Suddenly, the yanking stopped, and Reaper quickly pushed Infiltrator back so hard, she smashed into Heron.
"Oh my God, you are incapable of anything!" Heron snapped in frustration, before going to one of the pipes that lined the cave. She grabbed Infiltrator, and slammed her against the metal pipe.
The pipe shuddered, and snapped open, quickly flooding the tiny cave. It was about waist height for Dewey. Heron stood on top of one of the cave's ledges, took Infiltrator's arm, and electrocuted the water.
Everyone screamed.
Reaper panicked, scooping everyone in his arms, and rushing to get them out of harm's way. He reached the front room, where they had found Infiltrator's body, and barely managed to land them there.
Reaper quickly scanned them, and after confirming that they were all alive, he rushed back to take care of his sister.
Only to not find her there.
Reaper growled in frustration, and flew towards the McDuck Clan, only to find a barely conscious Dewey fending off a very angry Infiltrator 2.0.
God, why did she have to be so stealthy?
Reaper couldn't help but be impressed with just how strong Dewey was. He had been chloroformed and electrocuted, and yet, he was fending off a killer bot. Heron was missing, but Reaper didn't pay much attention to that as he body slammed into Infiltrator.
She flew back, and glared at him—he knew that she was frustrated, but he was using his size to his advantage. Infiltrator growled, and whipped a small blade at him. With dead accuracy, the blade lodged itself into Reaper's chest cavity.
He shrugged, and made his way to finish off this version of his sister, only to not be able to move.
"What the…?"
She smirked. "A portable, smaller EMT. I knew it would come in handy."
Reaper harshly glared at her, his body going limp. Infiltrator held up a small blade, and made her way towards Dewey.
This time, there was no competition.
Reaper could only watch as the knife sliced through Dewey's forearm like butter, bouncing off the bone and nicking his collarbone. Infiltrator 2.0, with crazy red eyes and a snarling face was above him, one hand grabbing him by the throat, and pain exploded in his side.
An agonized scream tore from his throat, vision rapidly dimming. A jarring impact knocked the hand free and he thought maybe he was on his back, the sounds of battle fuzzy on the edge of his hearing as he stared blankly up at the surface so very far above them.
Her face obscured his view and he frowned, feebly lifting a hand to push her away but she easily caught his hand, twisting it. Pain exploded in his wrist, and he let out a soft moan.
The space around him was rapidly becoming stained in red, tendrils of his own blood staining the floor.
In a thick, slurred voice, Dewey half mumbled, "Webby…" and then promptly lost consciousness.
ooo
Intense or nah?
—Jordan :)