Peg-Leg Pete welcomed them coldly. A cop once every few months in his bar was tolerable, especially if the cop paid well, but a cop in his bar two nights in a row, that was too much. But Scrooge didn't take the time to bribe the barman, nor did he bother asking permission to get down the stairs. Some criminals sitting at the old table tried to protest, but he ignored them. Once he was down in the basement, he noticed that not all seven brothers were there. Only Bigtime and Bankjob were sitting at the round table, discussing over a glass of whiskey and smoking cigars. Scrooge pulled up a chair and sat with them. The anguish he had felt the first time he was there was all gone, he only felt anger, and everybody around him felt it too. The two brothers didn't even protest as he sat with them.

"Alright boys. My nephew is being held by the psycho 'cause of ya. Ya idiots told her I knew her name, and now he paid for it. So ye're gonna tell me everything ya know about this girl, and why she's killing. And then maybe I'll consider actually getting yer Ma out of jail."

"'Ey Scrooge, who d'ya think you are? Of course we told her. We ain't cops. Plus, he asked about you and your nephew, we just answered." Bankjob shrugged.

Scrooge stood up, took the huge man by the collar and put his gun against the temple.

"A'ight Bankjob, I don't have time for this. Ya tell me everything ya know and we're done."

He released the criminal and sat back, ready to listen to the boys' story.

Bankjob brushed his collar and grunted.

"Fine, no need to be brutal, ol'man. Y'know, we might be gentle with you, but Miss Snow-White won't be. She's a tough one. Ever heard of the bank robberies that had been happening about 10 years back? A gang was attacking bank after bank, never getting recognized, never getting caught, and they were robbing millions. T'was them. Snow-White was the brain, and her seven men were doing the job. They split the money. They were the most talented bank robbers I had ever seen. But then, something must have gone down between them, 'cause the cops got an anonymous tip about Snow-White's implication and location. The girl got arrested, not without a fight though, and was put on trial. She tried to defend herself, and to bring her accomplices down with her, but the trial wasn't fair. You know how justice works in this city. Anyway, now she's finally out of jail and making them pay for what they did to her."

Scrooge nodded. He finally understood the hate he felt in all of these murders.

"I get it. Just one more question. Any idea why the murders are all so… weird? I mean she could just shoot them or something. Why go through all the trouble of making such spectacular murders? Why leaving clues?"

Bigtime shrugged.

"Simple. She wants the murder to mean something. All the guys had nicknames. All the murders are linked to these: Sneezy died of allergies, Doc died operating himself, Dopey believed the magician would just perform a magic trick. And she wants the whole world to know what happened. She knows she's going down with this one, but she wants it to be worth it. Plus, she's not done. That's why she got your Duck. She needs more time." He explained.

"There's been six murders already," Scrooge thought out loud, "so only one's missing." He turned to the criminals. "What's his nickname?"

"Grumpy. But nobody knows where he is. Ever since the beginning of the murders, he's been in hiding."

"Obviously. Well thank you boys, I'll owe you one."

"You already do, Scrooge. And we don't forget." Bigtime answered in an ominous tone.

Scrooge got up, climbed the stairs, saluted Pete and left the seedy bar, hopefully once and for all.

"We have to find that Grumpy guy, Scrooge," O'Hara said sternly, "he's our only chance to get Duck back and to stop that psycho."

He turned towards his detective.

"May I ask you how you got this intel?" he raised a suspicious eyebrow.

"Nah, I'd better keep that to me self, commissioner, it'll be better for everyone."

O'Hara sighed, but he wasn't surprised. The case had been stuck for so long, it was usual for detectives to get a little dirty when fishing for answers. He should be mad, but he'd been there, so he just shrugged it off.

"Anyway, in the meantime, I sent an officer to investigate your last crime scene a bit more, interrogate the theater director and the poor witnesses. He already started, but the director is being interrogated right now if you want to have a word with him."

Scrooge nodded quickly and left the office. Once arrived at the interrogation room he knocked and entered. He stood next to officer Horsecollar, who was listening to the director giving his statement, on the other side of the tainted glass.

"Anything useful officer?"

Horsecollar just shook his head in defeat.

"Barely a description, we called the artist to get a sketch for our suspect, but nothing very tangible. Fake name, no address, nothing."

Scrooge sighed, not surprised. Snow-White seemed to be a master of disguise. Then again, now that he knew of her previous activities, it made a lot of sense.

"Alright mate. Keep going, you never know what you might find."

He patted his subordinate on the back and left the room.

He was in a dead end once again, but this time, his nephew's life was at stake.

Duck groaned as he slowly regained consciousness. He opened his eyes warily, and as the white light stabbed them, he closed them back quickly. He tried to move his arms and legs, but in vain. He was tied up to an old wooden chair, that was creaking with every move he made. No possibility of being discreet. He noticed his hat was lying on the concrete floor and groaned again. That was no way of treating a hat!

"Hello? Hey! Anybody here? Come on down, have some balls!" he yelled tentatively.

No response. No echo.

He examined the room he was locked up in. There were no clues to where he was. The walls were grey, stained, old, made of concrete. Any basement on the city could have these walls. There was a little window behind him, throwing a faint ray of light in the room, and a dark door, way too far from him. In front of Donald was a simple camcorder, like the one his mother used to film him with on holidays. He guessed his kidnapper had used it to threaten the commissioner, or his uncle. He then tried to remember who his kidnapper was, but his memories were very fuzzy. His head still hurt a little from the drink they used to roofie him. He remembered vaguely two faces, long hair, chirpy voices. Not really the usual dangerous criminal profile, but after his years in the force, he knew reality could go way beyond the detective novels' clichés.

Cutting his trail of thoughts, the dark door creaked open. In the doorway gap appeared a small, round face Duck recognized immediately.

"You're the nurse! You're that blond nurse who was always asking questions about the investigation!"

"Indeed-y! Oh how easyyyyy you were to kidnap dear, I expected mooooore from the cop who killed Maleficeeeeent! I was sooooooooo disappointed!"

She would lengthen every syllable in the most annoying way possible. Her voice was so high-pitched Duck's ears were ringing.

"Well Missy, I'm so very sorry for the disappointment. Now that I apologized, can I please go?" he snorted.

She exploded in laughter.

"Oh no honey! But don't worry, we do not plan on killing you! If your uncle behaves, you should be perfectly fine!"

"My uncle?"

He suddenly understood. He wasn't here because he was getting close on his investigation, he wasn't there because he was becoming dangerous for his perp. He was there because his stupid uncle was a good detective. He was a hostage. How humiliating.

"What's your name then?"

The blond girl turned to him and smiled brightly.

"I can't tell you that dear, you might want to come after me once I free you, and that would be very annoying." She returned to doing whatever she started when she entered the room, setting up a whole bunch of stuff. "You see, we don't want to murder for a living. We finish this and then we're out of here! So, if we could avoid having a bunch of cops looking for us that would be absolutely perfect!"

"Wait. We? You're not alone?"

"Of course not! I am just helping my dear girlfriend, that's all! I am not the one looking for revenge."

Revenge. That made sense. Such brutal murders could only be for revenge. Nobody had enough hate in them to do that otherwise.

"So, what if my uncle figures out your girl's next move? What's gonna happen when he puts the cuffs on her? 'Cause he's a good detective, ya know. He's not gonna lose this one. What are you gonna do to me, then, doll?"

She finally turned to him and he discovered what she was setting up during their talk. A camera was pointed on him, he could almost see his own reflection in the lens. Next to it was a white board, with a speech written on it. Duck understood immediately that he was about to record his ransom tape.

"I am in a place I don't recognize, I am afraid. They're going to kill me if you don't do what they requested. Please, save me, stop the case, let her have her revenge!"

How pathetic. If she thought he would ever utter these words, she was a fool. He had his pride, after all.

"Alright, pretty boy, let's get you camera ready!"

And with the brightest smile, the blonde lady punched him hard in the face.

"We received another tape!"

Little Helper barged in Scrooge's office, breathless and red as a cherry, holding a tape in his hand. The detective jumped off his chair and grabbed the tape from his colleague and put it as fast as he could in the TV. As the video started, Gearloose arrived in the office and sat next to Scrooge. On the screen, a beaten up, bloody Donald appeared, barely conscious.

"Hello. My name is Donald Duck. I'm being held hostage by Snow-White. I am in a place I don't recognize. I…" he whimpered. "I am afraid. They're going to kill me if you don't do what they requested." He looked directly in the camera. "Please. Save me. Just let her have her revenge."

And the screen went dark.

Scrooge put his head in his hands, sighing deeply. For the last 24 hours, he's been looking for any little clue about his nephew's location. He had found nothing. He's also been looking for the "Grumpy" guy the Beagle Boys were talking about. None of his sources had heard of him. Gyro patted his shoulder in a comfort attempt.

"Hey. We'll find him, Scrooge. We will. We're smarter than this psycho."

Little Helper was standing in a corner of the room, unsure of what to do. It was the first he had seen the detective so hopeless. He was always so determined, he always found a way out of every situation, even if it was a little unorthodox. For the first time, the young assistant realized that this job didn't mean always winning.

A few hours had passed, Scrooge was in the commissioner's office. Gearloose and Little Helper were back in their lab, visioning the tape again and again, hoping to find a clue, a detail they missed, a sound, anything. Gearloose stretched and sighed, rubbing his eyes.

"This minx is good. She knows what she's doing."

The assistant rewound the tape for what felt like the hundreth time and pressed play. The same image passed, but this time he tried to focus more on the décor, even though there wasn't much to see there. The grey walls, the dirty floor, the little window that showed a tiny part of the street behind him. That was it. He rewound it again, again, and again. Until a lightbulb suddenly lit up in his head: he recognized something through the small window. He paused the image.

"Can we zoom on this thing?" he asked loudly, startling his somnolent superior.

"Uh, no, don't think so." Gyro grunted.

"I think I know where Donald is. Can we at least print this?" he pointed at the screen.

"Sure, but wait, what did you see?"

"I'm not sure yet, I need to check something."

Gyro nodded, took the tape from the TV and headed to the tech room of the building. He came back minutes later, holding a paper in his hand and his coat in the other.

"Alright Little. Where are we going?"

Half an hour later, the forensic and his assistant were standing in front of an old edifice, all painted in a faded red. The sign above the door said: "Miss Lou's Cabaret". Gearloose gave his assistant a funny look, and the young man felt urged to explain.

"I used to work here as a receptionist to pay for medical school! It's a cabaret, but what's important is not what's inside. Look!"

He was pointing the stairs that led up to the door. Like the rest of the building, they were painted red. Gyro looked at the stairs, then at the picture Little Helper was keeping in front of their eyes for comparison. He went back and forth a few times and then confirmed Little Helper's hopes:

"Yep. That seems to be the same stairs we see from the window."

He then turned around to check the other side of the street.

"There!"

Little Helper ran to a house and kneeled in front of the basement window, barely above the ground. He made a sign to the professor to join him. He was careful not to sit directly in front of the window, in case the blond girl was still in there with Duck.

"I can see him," Little whispered. "He's right there, attached to a chair, alone."

The forensic approached to try and see through the dirty glass. The night was falling, and there didn't seem to be a light in the room, which made it difficult to identify their friend with certainty. But there was someone alone, sitting on a chair in the middle of an empty room. It couldn't be a coincidence.

"We have to get him out of here!" the assistant exclaimed.

"You're right. I'm gonna call it in. As soon as backup is here…"

"No! We don't have the time. What if they grow impatient? What if somehow, Scrooge makes a breakthrough and finds Snow-White? They'll kill him! No, we have to get him out now!"

"Litlle, we're not cops."

"No we're not! We're better! We're doctors. And we're supposed to save lives!"

Gyro looked at his young assistant with a slight smile. Always so full of hope and energy. He wondered when he had lost this.

"Alright. But we do this smartly. I'm not dying today."

Scrooge jumped as the officer Horsecollar barged into his office. That was becoming a habit, and he was not happy about it.

"Scrooge. We found a witness who thinks he's seen Grumpy!"

"Are we sure it's not another mad guy who's seeing his emotions? I've had enough of these today."

"No, we showed him the picture of the Unlawful Seven, and he recognized Grumpy."

Scrooge sighed as he stood up with difficulty.

"Right. Let's see it then."

In the interrogation room, a tall man was sitting in front of Scrooge. He was black, muscular and had a large scar on his right cheek.

"What's your name?"

"Phantom."

"I beg your pardon?"

The man smiled slightly and repeated:

"Phantom."

Scrooge scribbled the name on his paper and looked at him.

"You're a criminal."

"Ah! Not anymore, Detective, I swear!" he exclaimed loudly, looking theatrically outraged, a hand on his chest.

"Right. So sorry. Anyway. Do you know this man?"

He showed him Grumpy's only picture they had.

"Hmmm. Yes, detective, I do. Grumpy, everybody called him that. He was with this Snow-White girl. Weird gig they had, these guys. Seven men, one girl… Not my thing."

"And do you know where he is now?" Scrooge interrupted.

"I don't, but I know someone who does. He's been a subtle motherfucker this one, laying low as much as he could, cutting bridges with everybody…"

"And who's the person who might know him?"

Phantom sat back in his chair, crossing his arms and grinning.

"Oh, detective, come on. You're not new to this. You know that every information has a price…"

Scrooge chuckled. "Of course. I'll come back in a minute."

Groaning in pain, Scrooge made his way out of the room, only to get in the room next door, where his commissioner and officer Horsecollar were watching the interaction through the tainted glass.

"What can we offer him? He won't want any money." Horsecollar stated.

"Do we know wat kind of criminal he was?" Scrooge asked.

"Yes, actually. Kind of a big one. He was operating at the same time as Snow-White and her gang. He was an art thief. Pretty good at it, he was only condemned for one theft, but suspected of dozens. He must be filthy rich."

"Hm. Okay. But what could a filthy rich thief want from the police then?"

"Immunity?" The commissioner suggested.

Scrooge shook his head.

"If he was convicted for only one theft and got away with dozens of others, why would he need immunity?"

Horsecollar was rummaging through the Phantom's files he had found.

"He wants someone out of the joint."

The detective and the commissioner turned to him, confused.

"Who?"

"Here it said that he wasn't alone. He was convicted for one theft but he only he did 3 years of prison, because he wasn't considered the "brain" of the crime. The partner he was with was already searched by the police for several art thefts and got 20 years. He's still in there for 10 more years."

"He'd want to get his old partner out of jail? Why do criminals keep asking that? At that rate I'm gonna get more people out of there than in there…" Scrooge mumbled.

O'Hara and Horsecollar shared a confused look as the old man went back to interrogation room.

Before going out, he asked: "What was the partner called?"

"Hmmm… Mouse. Mickey Mouse."

Scrooge laughed.

"What a ridiculous name." He slammed the door.

As he sat in front of his potential lead, the tall man asked with a smirk, bending his scar:

"Well detective? Have you found something to offer me?"

"We figured money wasn't of your interest."

Phantom laughed loudly.

"Indeed! Money is futile, you only think you need it when you don't have it. No, dear sir, that's not what I'm looking for." His face got serious again and sat straight into his chair, his two hands on the table. "What I'm looking for is way deeper than superficial material possessions."

"You want your partner back."

The black man didn't answer, his face didn't twitch. Scrooge continued.

"Mouse. He still got ten years in the joint. Getting him out now would put my carrier in serious jeopardy. Granted, it's already not looking great for me. But I'll need the information that'll make me solve this case to grant your request. Otherwise, it's not worth it."

"Detective, I think we can help each other out, and we'll both get out of here as winners."