Duck was woken up by a loud bang and the sound of broken glass, followed by a string of curses. He tried to see where the noise was coming from, but he couldn't turn his head enough.

"C'mon, Little, just get in there already! We're gonna get caught!" whispered angrily a voice Duck seemed to recognize.

"Gearloose? Little Helper? Is that you?"

"Shhhhh! Don't yell, Duck! You're gonna get us all killed! For Heaven's sake can you all be careful for five minutes?" Gyro grumbled.

Little Helper suddenly appeared in front of him, rushing, trying to find a light switch, obviously out of breath and covered in glass debris.

"How the hell did you find me?"

"Long story, we don't have the time. Doctor, can you untie him? I'm watching the door, in case anybody comes over here."

Gyro went to work immediately. His assistant had not found how to turn on the light, so he was working with the slight ray of light coming from the cabaret, on the other side of the street. He struggled for a few very, stressful minutes with the ties. As he finally set his friend free, and as they both jump to their feet, Little Helper suddenly urged them to stop moving and slowly brought a finger to his lips. He had heard someone coming. With many precautions, Duck picked up his hat off the ground and put it on his bloody and dirty head, making his friends smile slightly. After a few seconds of silence, they heard footsteps, coming closer and closer. They held their breath as they suddenly realized that none of them had any weapon, and only one knew how to actually fight. Things weren't looking good. But then the footsteps stopped and went away, without opening the door. Once they were sure they were safe, they moved carefully towards the broken window. Gyro brought the chair beneath it. Duck was the first to extricate himself from the basement, quickly followed by Little Helper and Gearloose. As soon as they were out, Duck took a big gulp of air. The streetlamp's light illuminated the extent of the damages the fake nurse had done on his face. His left eye didn't open completely, his cheekbone was swollen and had a dark purple tone, his lips were cracked and bloody and bruises were everywhere on his neck, face, and shoulders. But all of this didn't stop him from smiling.

"Alright gentlemen. I can never thank you enough for getting me out of here. Now, tell me. Where are we on catching this motherfucker?"

"You're sure it's here?" the commissioner asked.

The building standing before them did not look like an ex criminal's hideout. It was a big, white house, that almost looked like a castle. An alley of white gravel led to it, with wide and tall trees on either side. At the end of it stood a big marble staircase and a huge wooden door. The façade was ornamented of many statues, engravings, and delicate bas-reliefs. Scrooge did not feel at home in this luxurious environment and hurried up to the door and knocked loudly. He was answered by silence. He had brought the commissioner and officer Horsecollar with him, and a few patrols were waiting at the entrance of the alley for their signals to intervene.

The three policemen went around the house, exploring the grounds, looking through the windows, wanting to see a trace of life, a movement. After ten minutes of exploring, Scrooge decided they had to go in. Snow-White might already be in there, they had no guarantee Phantom wasn't playing a double game.

Horsecollar was the one who found a back door, easier to break in. Once they did, they tiptoed in the enormous house, discovering a pantry filled with enough food to survive an apocalypse. The person living there didn't like to go out for shopping. They started to explore the inside of the house, agreeing silently to split up, to cover more ground. The old detective went upstairs. Two endless corridors stood on his right and on his left, each of them full of doors and therefore, possibilities for Snow-White to hide. He went on his left. He opened every door on his way. The first room was a luxurious bathroom, with a bathtub and a huge shower, big enough to fit five persons easily. The tiles were golden, and Scrooge wondered if it was actually possible to have gold tiles for a bathroom. Rich people are mad. The second room looked like it came from a French Renaissance castle. The bed was made of wood, the furniture was heavily decorated, heavy rugs covered the wooden floor, the most uncomfortable looking chairs sat in front of a large window, with a view on the gorgeous garden. Then there was a gym that could have welcomed a little village in it, another bedroom, 70's-themed this time, a room filled with arcade games and neon lights, a the second floor of a gigantic library, the kind with scales you need to climb on to get the book you want, and a several number of other weird rooms. They were very tidied up, very clean. Scrooge started to wonder if anybody actually lived in this mansion, until he heard a scream coming from downstairs: the commissioner was yelling in his radio:

"Patrol 1, come in! We need backup here, and call the bomb squad! We're gonna need them!"

"Duck, I don't know if it's a good idea to go straight to the station, you should go to the hospital, you look like a train ran you over!" Gyro yelled, exasperated.

"I'll go, right after I'm certain my uncle didn't manage to fall into this bitch's trap and get himself killed."

The forensic sighed. Genetics weren't a legend; this kid was his uncle's nephew for sure.

The young detective stopped the police car in the middle of the street, jumped out of it and ran inside the station. He'd heard bits of conversations between the blondie and her girlfriend, and he knew his old, stubborn uncle was in danger. They were the ones who sent Phantom to give the tip, they had all planned out. The victim was gonna blow up, and his uncle would blow up with him.

Inside the station there was an extraordinary commotion. Duck grabbed a newbie and asked him what was going on.

"The commissioner, detective, they found a bomb! Everybody needs to get there, they need help, they don't know where the bad guy is! Also, three men are locked in the house with the bomb."

"Who? Who is inside?"

The young man just shrugged, and Duck released him. He found one of his friends, Jones, and asked him for the address. He then jumped back in his car, where Gearloose and Little were waiting for him, and hit the gas.

"What do you mean, we're locked in?"

"Calm down officer, no need to panic. This device has no countdown. The bomb squad is on its way, so is backup, we'll get out of there in no time!"

The commissioner spoke calmly, but Scrooge knew the situation wasn't as easy as he claimed. The victim was not conscious. A dozen of little patches covered his arms, chest, and neck, and were all bound to a big black device that looked awfully like a bomb. He couldn't help but wonder why there was no countdown. This thing could go off any second, but somehow, he felt like there was something more to it, like a riddle. It wasn't like Snow-White to just put a bomb in a room and wait for it to blow up. He got up and took a closer look to all the patches on the victim's body. He noticed a blood pressure monitor went from his arm to the bomb. He then remembered what Bankjob had told him. All the murders were linked to the victims' nicknames. This one was Grumpy. How a bomb could have anything to do with being grumpy?

"Hey! You! Old debris! Over here! Are you fucking deaf?" an old man's voice yelled annoyingly.

Scrooge turned towards the victim, who was not asleep anymore. He was very awake and pissed, and not subtle about it.

"Who are you bozos? The hell are you doing in my house? Are the clowns who attacked me and put me here? You think it's funny to torture an old guy like me?"

He was an annoying character for sure. But Scrooge was unbothered by the man's rant because something else piqued his curiosity. As soon as Grumpy had woken up and started to get angry, a device, next to him, had turned on and showed what looked like his heart rhythm. As Scrooge got closer, the ex-criminal exploded in rage.

"The fuck you think you're doing! Get away from me! And get me out of these handcuffs! I'm gonna end all of you as soon as I'm free you won't see what hit you!" he screamed.

"Sir, shut up!" Scrooge immediately answered.

Of course, the result wasn't the one expected. Grumpy was getting angrier and angrier and the device showed bigger and bigger curves. It started to beep dangerously, and the lines became red, and a little laughing bomb appeared on the screen.

Scrooge jumped on Grumpy and put his hands on the nose and mouth of the old man. The effect was immediate: the heart rhythm went back to normal as he blocked his airways.

Eventually, they were out of danger and Scrooge released him slowly.

"Before you get all mad again, please listen to me. We're cops and we're here to help you, even though right now it's not that obvious. The one who's responsible for your situation is Snow-White." Grumpy went pale. "She's on a revenge quest, she's already killed the six others. You're the last one alive."

"They're all dead?" the old man whispered. O'Hara went to him and patted him on the shoulder.

"We're sorry for your loss. We thought you knew and that's why you were hiding." The commissioner said with a soft voice.

"No. I have been hiding since the trial. I have lost contact with everybody. I wanted nothing to do with my old life. Too dangerous. I was tired of it."

"Anyway," Scrooge continued, "the device you're linked to is a bomb. Her MO is related to your nicknames. I'm guessing that, since you're often angry, all these patches monitor your blood pressure, heart, everything. And if your body shows signs of anger, the bomb explodes."

There was a silence. Then Grumpy asked:

"Is this a good time to tell you I have anger management issues?"

"Of course, you have." Horsecollar sighed.

"Well, I'm gonna have to ask you to stay as calm as possible. Do you have anything that triggers you?" the detective asks calmly.

"A lot of things. I must say the current situation is not really stress-free for me, so I'm struggling right now."

"And does anything helps you calm down? Do you have tricks?" O'Hara asks, hopeful.

"Meditation helps."

Scrooge scoffed and rolled his eyes. Meditation. Why not yoga? Might as well.

The commissioner kept talking to Grumpy while Scrooge and Horsecollar kept exploring the enormous house to find a possible exit. In vain. They found a surprisingly modern kitchen and sat at a table with glasses of bourbon. Horsecollar took a sip and sighed loudly.

"D'you think we're gonna die here Detective?"

"I don't know Officer. If that guy has anger issues, we can blow up at any point. And I don't know how the bomb squad is gonna defuse this one, I don't think they study this type of devices in bomb school. But we have to trust our luck, Horsecollar."

"I have a wife at home. A pregnant wife. I know that when you choose this job, this life, you gotta be ready to die each day. But like that? For an angry ex-criminal who lives in a mansion? We ain't even protecting anyone, 'cause he'd be dying with us. I don't wanna die if I'm not dying a hero."

Scrooge sighed. He knew it was the dream of every recruit, every officer, every man that came in the police. But being the old detective that he was, he had seen so many of his colleagues die stupidly, in vain, shot for no reason, stabbed just because they were police officers. He'd also seen the consequences of the job on his men. The lack of recognition, the lack of gratitude took a toll on the men's morals. They became angry, bitter. They started seeing criminals everywhere, enemies on every street. This job was for heroes indeed, but they rarely died feeling like it.

Duck didn't even bother to park the car. The tires screech on the alley leading up to the mansion, and he jumped over his door to run toward the crime scene. The house was already surrounded by officers, bomb squad, and unfortunately, the F.B.I.

"Well, look who finally bothered to come!"

Donald cringed.

"Gladstone. You're here."

"Of course, dear cousin! Our dear uncle, stuck in this house with a bomb, a civil, a commissioner and an officer? The F.B.I. had to interfere, especially on such an important case!"

His detestable cousin smiled at him, He bulged his chest, wearing proudly his bulletproof decorated of the three magical letters. His cousin managed to pass the entrance exams for the Bureau. Donald had failed. And Gladstone would never let him hear the end of it. He continued:

"You know, we let you handle the little jobs, the ones that are not real threats, but you have to let the big bad guys to us!"

"Alright, Gladstone, let's not do this right now. Why don't you tell me how you big Bureau people are handling the situation?

"They're handling very well, thank you." His cousin's tone got colder. "The bomb squad is here, and we're taking care of everything, don't worry your little head about it."

"Have you managed to communicate with the people on the inside?"

"None of your business."

"Did you identify what type of bomb we're facing?"

"None of your business."

"Did you find a way to enter the mansion? Any doors or windows that can be broken?"

"It is none of your fucking business, Donald! Now go back to your stupid car and stay in it. But don't you bother us and don't waste our time with your stupid questions!" Gladstone snapped.

Duck was surprised by his anger but did not insist. He must be under a lot of pressure right now. He would investigate on his own.

He went back to his car, where Gearloose and Little Helper were waiting for him.

"So? Is the detective okay?" the forensic inquired.

"We don't know, but the F.B.I. is in charge now, and they are not fond of me, so I couldn't get a lot of information."

"Is Gladstone Gander here?"

Duck nodded as he was foraging through his trunk, getting equipped.

"That arrogant little bastard."

He chuckled lightly, took his gun, tightened his bulletproof vest and closed the trunk.

"Alright. They don't want me asking questions, that's fine. I'm gonna find he answers myself."

"Uncle? Uncle? Can you hear me?"

Scrooge blinked, his eyes opening slowly. The bourbon must have been strong, because he was hearing his stupid nephew's voice.

"Uncle!"

This one was real but muffled. His nephew was calling him. But where could he be?

Scrooge got up and noticed Horsecollar, asleep next to him, his face on the counter and his glass empty. He left him there to follow the voice.

He finally found it, coming from a tiny window in the cellar. Scrooge warned him.

"Duck, don't try anything stupid! All the windows and doors are trapped. If you try to break in, or break out, we will all blow up."

"I know! I just wanted to check if you were okay!"

Scrooge grunted.

"Of course I'm alright you little brat."

"The bomb squad is here. Did they get in contact with you?"

"Yes, but they don't know how to defuse it without killing the civil."

A silence followed. He could hear his nephew getting busy, scraping and playing with the window.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Uncle, did you find this room easily?"

He took a few seconds to think about it.

"Actually, no, I didn't. The door was hidden. If it wasn't for your voice, I would never have found it."

"It's the same for this window. It's hidden behind a bush of roses and nettles!"

"What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking that this window wasn't trapped, and that we could use that as your exit!"

"Bring the bomb squad here to check, I'm gonna get the commissioner."

The detective hurried back to the living room where he left Grumpy and O'Hara.

They were still talking, trying to keep Grumpy calm, and watching his vitals very closely.

"Commissioner? I need to talk to you. Now."

O'Hara turned to Grumpy, giving a questioning look. The old man nodded.

"You can go. You don't have to worry about me Commissioner. I'm not angry anymore. Just scared.

Scrooge took his superior outside in the corridor.

"Sir, we may have a way out. Duck found a hidden window. He's getting the bomb squad and they'll check if it's safe."

O'Hara didn't seem relieved. The detective knew that he wasn't offering him much of a miracle, barely a spark oh hope. But still, he expected a reaction from him.

"What is it Commissioner? What's wrong?" he asked worriedly.

"I don't think the bomb linked to that man is real, or here to kill us. We've seen how twisted our killer is. As grumpy as he is, that guy is good at handling his emotions. He's not reliable enough as a killing device."

Scrooge shrugged and sighed.

"I know, I agree. But we can't do nothing and stay in here until we starve. We're cops, we'll find a solution. We can't just give up. What's up with you, O'Hara? Did Grumpy got into your head?"

"No, Scrooge. This whole case got into my head. Even if we get out of there alive, we'll still have lost. Inevitably. What does this say about us? We keep cleaning up the criminals' mess."

"Uncle?"

Donald's voice stopped the two men into their existential crisis.

Scrooge let the Commissioner return to his bomb victim as he ran back to the hidden room.

At the window were two men that he recognized from the bomb squad. From behind them, he could hear his nephew talking to him.

"Uncle, the bomb squad says they don't see any kind of exploding or triggering device on that window! We think she might have missed it! We should be able to open it!"

Scrooge couldn't but smile of relief. Whatever the Commissioner said, however he felt about how useless their careers were, at least they would live.

"Gearloose! We found a way out!"

Duck stopped, breathless, hands on the knees, in front of the forensic and his assistant.

"Really? How? Did they unarm all the bombs?"

For the past two hours, the squad had been finding more and more bombs, all linked together. All the doors and windows were trapped. Grumpy's bomb was a drop in the ocean of exploding danger that was this house.

"No, we found a little window, that opens on a hidden room. It's impossible to see from the inside or the outside. The squad is checking but we think it's a safe way out for all of them." he exclaimed.

He was obviously relieved. He'd been running around the house for hours just to prove his cousin wrong and save his uncle's life.

The three of them went to that little window, on the other side of the mansion. At the bottom of one of the towers, beneath a bush of nettles that had been crushed by a lot of feet, was a little wooden window, barely large enough for someone to pass.

"I can't believe this is their only hope" Little Helper said, a bit defeated.

Gyro put a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't worry, I know our Commissioner has been on a diet recently, I'm sure he will slip right through it."

"ALL CLEAR!"

The bomb squad members quickly scattered to leave the place to the F.B.I. agents. Duck was only allowed to watch from the side. His cousin barely acknowledged his discovery, but he didn't care. He only wanted his uncle and friends out and alive.

He watched as the prisoners were showing their heads through the window, figuring out how to climb and reach it. He watched when the F.B.I. carefully opened the window. He heard the big detonation that resonated through the whole mansion. He saw the living room, where Grumpy used to be, explode in flames. He tried to run to help his uncle get out of there, but Gyro grabbed his arm and stopped him. He watched as they all got out, one by one, as the house was collapsing on them. He heard his uncle scream "Horsecollar!" at the top of his lungs, sounding more distressed than ever. He saw the ex-criminal jump back through the window, disappearing inside once again. He let himself be evacuated with everyone else, and like everyone else, he watched the house finally fall to the ground, in flames and dust, burying his colleague and the man who went to try and save him. He watched his uncle drop to his knees, exhausted and defeated. He went to him, put his jacket on his shoulders and sat next to him.

"He wanted to die a hero. Instead, he died drunk and asleep. An ex criminal died a hero instead, trying to save him."

The church was silent. You could only hear Horsecollar's wife sobbing quietly in the front row, while the priest was reading the Bible in a monotonous voice.

The ceremony seemed eternal to Scrooge. The benches were extremely cruel to his old bones. Pretty quickly, he stopped listening to all the homages paid to his colleague. He knew them all by heart, they were always the same. He was a formidable colleague, husband, friend. It was terrible that his life was taken so fast, so young. He had a wonderful future. He was an amazing cop. They always are once they're dead. The old detective had been to too many funerals.

He left his seat in the middle of the ceremony, under the disapproving look of his nephew, who was sitting next to him.

He sat at the bar in front of the church.

"Scotch on the rocks?"

He simply nodded as Gus served him his drink.

"Another copper?" he asked, pointing at the church, where you could see people slowly getting out, all dressed in black.

Scrooge nodded again, head down. He shouldn't be ashamed. It wasn't his fault. It all went down too fast. He didn't have time. He would have died, like Grumpy did, if he'd tried anything. But a little voice, deep inside, kept repeating: "It should have been me". He was old, had no family except for his stupid nephew, had no reason to stay there. The vision of Horsecollar's pregnant wife, falling to the ground screaming and crying, in complete despair, as he gave her the news, broke his heart. He told her he died a hero. He didn't want her to know the reality.

"I'll have whatever he's having."

Duck sat next to him without another word. His nephew was looking worse and worse. This case, the kidnapping, the mansion bomb race, all of this took a toll on him. He was thinner and paler. He already looked tipsy.

"Did you drink during the ceremony?"

"Just a little pick-me-up to get me through all this bullshit."

They stayed there and drank in silence.

A few days later, life had resumed its course. Horsecollar's desk had some flowers on it and was still unoccupied, but soon enough, a newbie would be putting his stuff in these drawers, excited about his new life, hoping to be a hero too.

Scrooge was in his office, alone and rummaging through some old papers, as he heard a knock on his door.

"Come in!"

Donald entered the old room and carefully closed the door behind him.

"I wanted to talk to you." he said. He looked agitated.

The detective pointed at the chair in front of his desk, inviting him to sit.

"Uncle, why are you so angry at me all the time?"

Scrooge scoffed, still reading his papers.

"I ain't angry at you kid."

"Yes, you are. And I need to know why. Because it's interfering with our jobs. It's slowing us down, this constant competition. You wanna prove that you don't need me, that you're still the fierce detective you once were, and I wanna prove to you that I'm a good detective, that I'm worthy of your pride!" Duck exclaimed.

"What's you point?" Scrooge's voice was cold. He didn't look at him, and that made Duck crazy.

"My point is, you're an old narcissistic asshole, but you're damn good. And I may be young and reckless, but I get shit done. If we had shared information on this case instead of chasing the same person in parallel lines, we would have saved more lives. But no, we failed. Snow-White has run away, we have no idea where she is and probably won't ever find her. Hopefully, she does what she said and will stay out of trouble now that she's had her revenge, but we can't know that for sure. We didn't save anybody, and we have a dangerous criminal on the loose. And that is entirely our fault."

Duck was out of breath. Angry and frustrated. This had been the biggest failure of his career, and he was not used to it.

"I disagree, Nephew. It's not on us. Not working together and going each our separate way helped us go faster. When you got kidnapped, I kept going. When I was stuck in the mansion, you kept going. We don't work together but we still help each other and save each other's ass. That's what matters."

"You didn't save my ass!" Duck exploded. "Gyro and Little did! You didn't even bother! You went your own way and got stuck in that mansion all by yourself!"

Scrooge simply rolled his eyes and finally looked at his nephew.

"Are you done?"

"No-"

But Scrooge stopped him with his hand and got up.

"I know how you feel, Donald. Your last few cases have been complicated. I think you need some holidays. I'll talk to the commissioner about it. Now I need to get back to work."

He opened the door and stood next to it, waiting for Duck to leave.

The young man was outraged but had nothing to answer. His uncle was a lost cause. He would never listen to him. He could never prove himself to him. He would never be proud of him.

Duck left the office, defeated.

Scrooge went back to his desk and plunged himself in a new case: the Chinese mafia was making some trouble again.