Disclaimer: I do not own TaleSpin
Author's Note: The events in the start of this episode happened twelve years prior to the start of this story, and there will be some time skips.
Episode Six
Prequel, Matthew's Tale, Part I
Aerial warfare was chaosic and nerve-wrecking, this was not for the faint of heart. Dozens of warplanes flying all through the sky like a swarm of bees, each trying to shoot their enemies out of the air. The air was filled with machine gunfire and flying bullets going from planes to enemy planes.
A younger Matthew Windward was flying a silver P-38 Lightning, performing some barrel rolls and loop-de-loops to evade his enemies and get behind them for a clear shot. Once he was in position, he opened fire on his target, and the enemy plane went down, leaving a trail of smoke behind. Matthew did not pause to watch the plane fall, but quickly switches to the next target and shot that one down, and then another and another, all the while performing amazing maneuvers.
Matthew shot one plane down in a climbing left turn, he shot down another plane that was pursuing one of his wingmen.
PING-PING-PING! Matthew was under attack! He turned the plane downward into a steep dive. His plan was to dive down and then do a backflip to loop around his attacker to get behind him and attack. But the attacker must have smelled a rat and pulled away in pursuit of another one of Matthew's wingmen.
Matthew let out a deep breath. "Smart pilot, he didn't take the bait." He pulled back on the control yoke. Nothing happened, the plane remained in a steep dive! Matthew tried again, nothing happened, the controls were unresponsive! Matthew had lost all control of his plane!
"Captain Windward! What are you doing?! Pull up, pull up!" cried one of the wingmen over the radio.
Angrily, Matthew grabbed the mic. "Don't worry about me, just get on with the mission! That's an order!" he yelled, he put the mic back in its' place. "The speed of my dive must've caused the plane to experience compressibility…" He muttered to himself, reading the speed and altitude gauges, analyzing the situation within his aircraft. "This speed... it's approaching the speed of sound... a shockwave is developing… the airflow on the wings and critical control surfaces is disrupted... I can no longer pilot this plane!" he was strongly tempted to panic, but he was trained to keep a level head in the crisis. He glanced at the throttle. "Can't cut the throttle, that'd stall the engines and make things worse for me… Wait! If I wait until I get to lower altitude, I just might…"
Having been raised in a family of ace pilots and circus pilots, Matthew was taught from a young age how to analyze his aircraft and figure out a solution to any problems and do it before a crash.
Within fifty feet above the ground, the controls starts to respond and wasting no time, Matthew pulled back on the stick and managed to pull his plane out of the dive. The aircraft leveled out of the dive, the belly of the plane was just twenty feet above the ground. He had managed to pull out of the dive just above a wheat field.
But there was no time for a breath of relief, the sound of gunfire brought Matthew back into the fight. He glanced back and saw an enemy on his tail, shooting at him.
Matthew quickly turned hard, he flat-turned, turned left ninety degree and went into a high-speed stall. The stall allowed the enemy to fly pass him. Now behind the enemy, Matthew opened fire on the enemy and shot him down!
"Phew! That was too close for comfort." Matthew said, wiping his forehead on his sleeve.
He looked up just in time to see one of his best wingmen take out the last enemy planes.
Being the captain of the squadron, Matthew picked up his mic. "Good work, men, that's the last of 'em. Return to base."
"Aye, aye, captain!" echoed his wingmen.
As Matthew turned his plane into the direction of their base, he looked down at the ground and saw their army of tanks advancing more easily towards the enemy line.
"Good luck to you, men," Matthew said, looking down on the tanks below. He saluted them, before speeding off towards the base.
This was Matthew's last battle in the military before he was due to return to civilian life.
At the base, the men were celebrating their victory, having a party while Matthew was in his cabin, packing his bags. Once all of his belongings were packed, he closed the lid of his suitcase. He then sat on his bunk and withdrew a telegram from his pocket and re-read it for the umpteenth time since its' arrival. The beautifully handwritten words from his wife back home is the one thing among his possessions that he held dear. It is what kept him going. It kept him sane, even after so many battles.
My darling Matthew
How how are you? Well, I hope.
I'm doing well and everything is alright here at home.
I do feel terribly lonely at times without you, even with the company of
your relatives here at their house. I am already counting down the days
for your return, I am so looking forward to that day. But I'm so sorry you
won't be home in time for when the baby comes. But I supposed our baby
would make a nice welcome home present to you. Try not to die and get
home safely. I am praying for your safe return.
Lots of love
—Patricia
Matthew smiled and kissed the telegram before putting it back into his pocket. He picked up his suitcase when General Zaslove walked in, looking unusually grave.
"Windward, I hate to do this just as you're leaving for home, but…" the general withdrew a telegram from his chest pocket and handed it to Matthew.
Judging from the general's expression and tone, Matthew knew this could not be good news. A feeling of dread came over Matthew as he took the telegram from his general.
"I'm sorry," General Zaslove said as Matthew sat down on his bunk to read the telegram. The general excused himself and left the cabin.
Dear, Mr. Windward.
I am Doctor Bagheera.
It is with a heavy heart that I must inform you that your wife, Patricia Ann Windward has passed away in childbirth. She gave birth to a pair of very healthy twin boys. She lived just long enough to name them Kit Matthew "Cloudkicker" and Chris James "Skyglider" Windward. Your children has been left to the care of your aunt and uncle. I am sorry for your loss.
—Dr. Bagheera of Freeport General Hospital.
The hand holding the telegram was shaking, tears filled Matthew's eyes as he whimpered which turned into a howl of grief and misery. Patricia, the love of his life, was gone!
The men outside the cabin could hear the howls of pain, like a wounded animal. They could also hear the sound of smashing furnitures, and they knew Matthew was breaking everything he could get his hands on. Some of the men made to go into the cabin and to either comfort him or restrain him, but General Zaslove, who stood outside the cabin door with his head bowed in sorrow, shook his head, signaling that men should not go in.
The next day, Matthew boarded a train and set off for home. After an uneventful train ride that lasted for seven hours, When the train pulled into Freeport Station, Matthew got off the train and walked five blocks from the train station to the house of his aunt and uncle.
When he reached their house, he knocked and was greeted by his smiling aunt, who appeared delighted to see him.
"Oh, Matthew! You're home!" she cried in delight.
"'Ello, Aunt Figg." Matthew said in a tone that meant he was not in the mood for all this cheerfulness, his face was downcast, as if he had downpouring rain cloud over his head.
"Ohh," Aunt Figg said, and her face fell. "I supposed you heard about Patricia."
Matthew responded only with a nod, not in the mood to talk either.
"Well do come in." Aunt Figg said, opening the door wider and allowing Matthew in. "Tony! Matthew's here."
Matthew's Uncle Tony came into the hall, carrying the most beautiful baby boy Matthew has ever seen. Matthew's face lit up at the sight of him, and he momentarily forgot his grief.
"Hey, Chris, wanna meet your Daddy? Yeah, this is your Daddy." Uncle Tony cooed to the baby before holding him out to Matthew.
Matthew took Chris into his arms as though he was a priceless treasure. He held his son, gazing in awe at this living miracle! Chris clearly had inherited his mother's fur color as well as her eye color. He was dressed in a French sky blue onesie with a little white airplane patch over his heart
"So, you're Chris… Hi, Chris, I'm your Daddy." Matthew cooed to him, tickling Chris' tiny hand, until Chris, cooing happily, closed his hand around Matthew's finger. "Where's your brother?"
A tensed silence greeted his inquiry, the atmosphere became colder than ice. One could sense the tension and fear in the air. Matthew looked up from the baby at his aunt and uncle, who had both stiffened, looking suddenly tensed.
"Matthew….how…?" Aunt Figg began, but Matthew spoke over her.
"Where is Kit?" he asked, not liking the way they were reacting to his question. They seemed really very nervous and Aunt Figg seemed shocked that Matthew even knew his name!
"Matthew..." Aunt Figg said with a pleading look in her eyes that Matthew knew it was not good news.
"Where is Chris' crib?" Matthew asked in a low and deadly voice. He had an idea of where this was heading and he did not want Chris to be in the middle of it.
"Up… upstairs, second bedroom." Uncle Tony said nervously.
Without a word, Matthew carried Chris up the stairs into the bedroom, he placed Chris in his crib. He then took a music box, turned it on and placed it next to Chris' pillow, hoping it would distract the baby from the loud commotion he was sure was coming.
Matthew then went back downstairs to find his aunt and uncle surrounded by a handful of cousins. It was clear that they were there to protect Aunt Figg and Uncle Tony from Matthew's wrath.
"Where is my son?" Matthew demanded in a menacing voice, his teeth bared.
"Matthew, how did you know Patricia had twins?" Aunt Figg asked, cowering behind one of her sons. "And how do you know his name?"
"Her doctor sent me a telegram, now do not make me ask again." Matthew said, starting to get very angry. "Where… IS HE?!"
"The….the orphanage…." stuttered one of the cousins.
"WHAT?!" roared Matthew furiously, and the whole family squeezed closer together in fright. "What in blue blazes is he doing in the orphanage?! He's not even an orphan!"
"Matthew… we couldn't afford to keep both of them…." Uncle Tony said in a small voice. "We could only afford to take care of one of them."
"THAT'S A LOAD OF HOGWASH, UNCLE TONY!" bellowed Matthew, spits flying from his mouth, and the family all flinched as one. "I know for a fact that my military salary was more than enough to support them both and pay for their care. What happened to the checks I've been sending home?" It was then that Matthew noticed that all the surrounding furnitures were different from the ones he remembered. These were all brand new. "New furnitures?! YOU THREW AWAY MY SON JUST SO YOU COULD GET NEW FURNITURES?!"
"Well I thought Chris' eyes were prettier, that's why I picked him over the other." Aunt Figg said stupidly, she couldn't help herself, she couldn't function very well under great stress, but she dug herself a deeper grave with this statement.
The whole family groaned as Matthew let out a roar like an angry lion.
"N-n-now wait, Matthew, this isn't as bad as it seems…" one of the cousins said in a pleading voice.
"Okay…" Matthew said, taking a deep calming breath. "Just tell me which orphanage you put Kit in, and I won't smash your faces."
"Uh…" the whole family said as one, looking over at Aunt Figg, making it clear that SHE was the one who took Kit to the orphanage.
"I….I...don't know!" Aunt Figg cried, clearly trying hard to remember. "I just… picked one at random, I can't remember the name of the place or where it is."
Matthew let out a roar of fury, causing the whole family to shriek with fear and flinch. He advanced on them, rolling up his sleeves as he went. The look on his face was murderous.
Out on the street outside the house, a dog guy was jogging down the sidewalk when he heard the commotion inside the house he was passing by. He stopped and watched the house for a minute. It seems like there was some sort of riot going on inside, all he could see were the silhouettes of people moving around through the window. One of the silhouettes was very combative, punching and swiping at all the other silhouettes. The silhouettes of furniture, pots and pans went flying everywhere.
"YOUR OWN GRANDNEPHEW! HOW COULD YOU?!`` The dog guy heard someone yelling from within the house, followed by the sound of someone being punched a dozen or so times.
And then… just as suddenly as it had started, it all went quiet. The dog guy was very nervous, standing there, waiting to see what would happen next.
Then the front door slowly opened and Matthew stepped out, holding Chris, who was wrapped in a bundle so he couldn't see the devastation Matthew had caused inside the house. Matthew had a bag of baby supplies draped across one shoulder.
Matthew walked down the walkway. When he saw the dog guy, he stopped. He pointed a thumb over his shoulder at the house.
"Call an ambulance or ten. About ten people need medical attention." Matthew told him. "And tell them that I have disowned them and I'm dropping the name Windward forever." And without another word, Matthew walked on, cuddling the little bundle close to his chest.
The dog guy waited until Matthew had disappeared before going inside. To his relief, he found the whole family alive, battered and bruised, a few missing teeth here and there but alive. But they were clearly in so much pain, that the dog guy ran to the phone and called for an ambulance, just as Matthew had told him.
The next day, Matthew was in his parents' old house, as they had left him the house. But he doesn't like being in the house, because it was a painful reminder that his parents and brother are no longer around, but he needed a place to stay and care for Chris.
Matthew had found some of his old baby toys in the attic and brought them down for Chris to play with. But he had vastly underestimated just how needy a baby can be. Every time he picked up the phone to call the police to report a missing child or to call various orphanages to try and locate Kit, Chris would cry, demanding Matthew's attention, and his needs rangs from wanting to be fed, to wanting to be played with, right up to wanting a diaper change. And it did not help that Chris kept waking him up at such ungodly hours in the night.
A week later, Matthew looked terrible, his face was haggard from lack of sleep and his eyes always seemed to be very heavy, he was pretty close to crashing and every time his head touched the pillow, Chris' cries would call him back and he'd have to get up and tend to him.
And caring for Chris did nothing to help with his quest to find Kit, he'd call an orphanage and be in the middle of inquiring the location of Kit, and Chris' crires would call him away from the phone, requiring Matthew's attention.
Matthew finally got Chris to take his nap, and he was strongly tempted to take a nap with him, but he had to return to his efforts to find Kit. He sat down at his desk and picked up the phone and called various orphanages, but none of the ones he called had ever heard of Kit. In the middle of talking to the last orphanage in the area, he fell upon his desk and fell asleep, the receiver falling from his hand. He was so tired that he just simply crashed.
—Four Years Later—
When Chris was four-year-old and was much less needy, Matthew had gotten hold of a wreckage of a Conwing L-sixteen from a junkyard and was in the process of restoring it. To him, taking a wreckage of a plane and restoring it to working conditions was a lot cheaper than buying a plane, new or used, as whenever someone throws something away, the next person to take the discarded item instantly becomes the new owner of that item, which is how Matthew was able to get a wreckage of a plane for free. But it still cost him quite a bit to fix it up.
He allowed Chris to assist him in restoring the plane by handing him his tools whenever he asked for them, as Chris always wanted to help his Daddy.
"Whatcha doing, Daddy?" Chris asked him, wearing a white t-shirt and blue overalls with some toy tools in the pockets. Across the chest of the overalls were the words "Daddy's Little Helper."
"I'm fixing this plane so that it will fly again." Matthew said, who was wearing a gray jumpsuit and was working under the hood of the right nacelle. "Could ya hand me the wrench?"
Chris crawled over to the toolbox, took out the correct tool and handed it to Matthew. "Here you go, Daddy."
Chris had learned a lot from his Dad, since Matthew was always talking to him and is always teaching him things. As a result, Chris already knew the names of all the tools.
"Thank you, Chris." Matthew said, accepting the wrench with a proud smile and continued working on the plane.
"Will this plane help find my brother?" Chris asked with curiosity.
"I hope so, it would help us go to places where he might be." Matthew answered honestly.
"What happened to Kit?" Chris asked and Matthew told him the truth, that he was sent away by unnamed relatives. "Why? That's so mean!" Chris cried in childish indignation.
"They were greedy, that's all there was to it." Matthew said with an annoyed expression.
"Well I hope this plane will help us find him."
"Me too, Chris."
Between trying to find Kit via phone calls and restoring a wrecked Conwing L-sixteen, Matthew still had to tend to Chris, making sure he was fed at the right times and taking every opportunity to teach Chris various little lessons. He found that it helps Chris' vocabulary develop better by talking to him as a person instead of as a toddler, so he quit using baby words with him once Chris started talking, when Chris was approaching his second birthday.
By the time Matthew was finished with the plane six months later, the plane was not only restored, but also looked brand new, as if it was fresh out of the factory. Taking the lessons he learned from his battles in the war, he strengthened the flaps on the wings, tails and the control surfaces so that the plane would be much less likely to suffer from compressibility during a dive.
The plane was then painted and decorated by Matthew. It was now a nice fire-engine red plane with yellow thunderbolts painted on the sides.
"Wow, what a great plane!" Chris said in awe, looking up at the plane while sitting on Matthew's right shoulder. "A Conwing L-sixteen, right?" he said as he was holding a book that listed all the different aircrafts at the time open in one hand, the other hand was around Matthew's neck as a means to maintain his balance on his Dad's shoulder.
"That's right, Chris! You've been studying that book, haven't you?" Matthew said, sounding proud of him. "But I fixed this Conwing to be better, stronger and faster than any other Conwings. I call her...the McQueen."
"Can she fly?" Chris asked.
"Yep! Wanna take her out for a test flight?"
"YEAH!"
"Okay," Matthew chuckled. "Let's go."
Matthew walked into the cargo area from the loading bay door, closed it behind him and then walked into the cockpit, where he set Chris down in the co-pilot seat and buckled him up.
Matthew sat down in his seat and was about to start the engines when he froze. An emotion overtook him and he let out a happy sob.
"What's the matter, Daddy?" Chris asked, looking up at his Dad with concern.
Matthew turned a watery smile to Chris. "This is….your first flight."
"Well….yeah, but that's no reason to cry, Daddy."
"This is a happy kind of cry, son." Matthew told him, wiping away his tears on his sleeve. "Now, ready for takeoff?"
"YEAH!"
"Alright then, hold on to your hat." Matthew said, starting the engines.
"Silly Daddy, I don't wear hats." Chris giggled.
"It's just an expression, son." Matthew told him, flipping a few switches but putting his hand on the throttle. "Ahh, listen to that, Chris, you know what that is?"
"The McQueen's engines?"
"Yep, it's the sound of two very healthy engines." Matthew said. "Now, let's go!" And he pushed the throttle forward, taking off into the air with both he and Chris letting out cries of delight, Chris was absolutely enjoying his first ever takeoff and fight.
"WOW! This is so cool!" Chris cried, gazing out of his window. "I can see our… What's it called? The house that McQueen lives in?"
"A hangar, Chris." Matthew said with a smile.
"I can see our hangar from here!" Chris exclaimed happily as a new word was added to his vocabulary.
The father and son duo laughed as they flew towards the horizon.
—Three Years Later—
When Chris was seven years old, Matthew was in the employ of Scrooge McDuck, serving as his pilot, since he has been running low on money and decided he needed a job in order to keep on flying and continue to care for Chris. Before now, they have been living off of a combination of Matthew's inheritance money and the money Matthew had put aside from his military salary during the war.
Scrooge's previous pilot, Launchpad McQuack had gone missing months before and nobody knew where he was. He had gone out to help an old girlfriend and disappeared en route. With a heavy heart, Scrooge had to fill Launchpad's position with a new pilot and that's how Matthew ended up working for Scrooge.
Chris loved it when his Dad was working for Scrooge because he got to play and interact with other kids his age for once. He played with Scrooge's grandnephews, Huey, Dewey and Louie, as well as the housekeeper's granddaughter, Webby. The triplets were the same age as Chris, while Webby was a year younger.
Then one day, Scrooge's treasure-hunting adventures led them all into trouble...
Scrooge had gotten wind of the existence of the Philosopher's Stone, a stone that can turn any metal into pure gold. It also produces the Elixir of Life, which will make the drinker immortal. Filled with greed and excited for a new adventure, Scrooge hired Matthew as his pilot and invited all the kids to come along, including Chris.
So Matthew piloted the Sun Chaser, with Scrooge, Donald Duck, the Duck triplets and Chris on board.
The boys and Chris were wrestling playfully on the floor, laughing and yelling.
"Boys!" Donald snapped and they all froze in mid-wrestling. "Get back in your seats and buckle up!"
"Yes, Unca Donald…" the four boys said in unison, including Chris, who for some reason had taken to calling Donald "Unca Donald" as well.
They got back into their seats and buckled up, but were soon complaining that they were bored.
Feeling bad for the boys, Matthew thought of a way to ease their boresome.
"Hey, I know. Let's play a game." he said, sounding like a big buddy to the kids.
"Absolutely not!" Scrooge said firmly, he pointed his cane at Matthew. "I'm a-payin' ya to fly the plane, not to play games."
"Lighten up, Mr. McDuck," Matthew said, sounding relaxed. "We won't be there for another two hours. What's the harm in playing a game to pass the time?"
"Well… I… Oh, alright, fine! Play your blasted game." Scrooge said grumpily.
The boys all cheered with delight at being allowed to play a game.
"Aw, look how happy you made them." Matthew said, smiling.
"Bah! Humbug." Scrooge said, pouting in his seat.
"Okay boys, we're going to play an airplane trivia game, where I ask a question and the person who answers correctly gets to fly the plane for ten minutes. How does that sound?"
The boys cheered with enthusiasm at the idea.
"Are you mad?" cried Scrooge in outrage. "You're gonna let the boys do your job?"
"Hey, gotta give 'em some kind of prize for answering a question correctly, unless you'd like to give them ten dollars each for answering my questions correctly..."
Scrooge looked horrified at the idea of giving them easy money. "Alright, fine! Let 'em fly the plane. But if they crash and we survive, I'm docking your pay to nothing!"
Matthew looked untroubled by Scrooge's threat and began the game.
"Okay, what do I use to adjust the airspeed of the plane?"
"OOH-OOH-OOH! I know, I know!" all four of the boys cried together, waving their hands.
"Louie," Matthew called.
"Easy, the throttle!" Louie shouted happily.
"Correct, come on down to the cockpit."
"WOO-HOO! See ya later, suckers!" Louie gloated to the other boys as he quickly unbuckled his seat belt and ran to the cockpit.
Donald, who was sitting in the seat behind the co-pilot seat where Scrooge sat, looked nervous. "Um, I'm not so sure this is a good idea..." he said in a worried voice.
"Ah, it'll be fine," Matthew assures him.
Once Louie was inside the cockpit, Matthew picked Louie up and set him on his lap.
"Okay, now take the stick and hold her steady." Matthew said. "Don't try anything fancy, because if you do, you will not get another turn."
Unfortunately for Louie, he was too excited to listen, and yanked back hard on the stick, sending the plane into steep climb and then into a steep dive and did a few barrel rolls before Matthew took back the controls and tossed Louie out of the cockpit.
"Louie is out of the game, return to your seat, Louie." Matthew ordered, sounding annoyed.
Scrooge groaned, looking sick, his face was pale green.
"Are you alright, Mr. McDuck?" Matthew asked, looking at the old duck with concern.
"Aye, I'll be fine…" Scrooge groaned, before he ducked his head out of sight and vomited into a paper bag.
"Okay, next question." Matthew said, as Donald stood up behind Scrooge and patted his uncle on the back. "How do I go up?"
"OOH-OOH-OOH! I know, I know!" three of the boys cried together, waving their hands, while Louie sat, sulking in his seat.
"Dewey?" Matthew called.
"You pull back on the stick?" Dewey said, like he was just guessing based on what he'd seen.
"Correct, come on down!"
"YA-HOO! And I won't lose my turn like a certain someone did." he said, clearly gloating to Louie as payback for the gloating he did earlier. Louie scowled as Dewey marched happily towards the cockpit.
"You better learn to sleep with one eye open…." Louie muttered under his breath.
Dewey entered the cockpit and jumped right up into Matthew's lap and took the stick. For six minutes, Dewey held the stick and then, unable to help himself, he pulled the plane into a roller coaster loop before he too lost his turn and was tossed out of the cockpit.
"Dewey, for that reckless stunt, you're not getting another turn either." Matthew said, sounding annoyed.
"Ha, ha…." Louie gloated, grinning at Dewey, and Dewey punched him on the arm as he passed him on the way to his seat. "OW! Unca Donald! Dewey hit me!"
"Dewey, say you're sorry." Donald said half-heartedly, as he was busy tending to Scrooge, who was still looking green.
"Sorry, Louie…" Dewey said without meaning it, sitting in his seat with his arms crossed.
"Okay, now next question—"
"Oh please stop! Are you trying to kill me, lad?" Scrooge groaned, sounding weak and feeble.
Matthew ignored him, he was sure the next winner would fly right. "What makes the plane go up and down?"
Huey and Chris both raised their hands, saying: "Ooh-ooh! I know! I know!"
"Huey," Matthew called and Chris put his hand down, looking disappointed.
"The flaps on the tail section," Huey said.
"Correct, and that was a trick question, too!"
"Whoo-hoo!" Huey cried, dashing into the cockpit. He climbed up into Matthew's lap and got to fly his full ten minutes, the first and only triplet to do so.
"Good job, Huey," Matthew praised him. "You did a great job, and you didn't make your poor ol' uncle sick."
Scrooge said nothing, he was snoring with his head back in his seat, trying to sleep off his roller coaster sickness.
Huey hopped down from Matthew's lap and walked back into his seat.
"Okay, next question." Matthew said. "How do airplanes stay up?"
For the first time, all three of the triplets looked stumped, while Chris was the only one who raised his hand.
"Ooh! Daddy, I know!" he cried happily.
"Okay, Chris, go ahead." Matthew said encouragingly.
"There are four forces that keep an airplane up. They are lift, weight, thrust and drag."
Donald looked shocked and impressed at Chris' answer and Matthew smiled proudly at him.
"Wow… that's one smart kid you got there, Matthew." Donald said as Chris, knowing he was right, came into the cockpit and sat in his Dad's lap,
Matthew chuckled. "What do you expect? He's my boy, after all." he said, fondly ruffling Chris' hair. Chris giggled and then took the stick and piloted the plane for the next ten minutes, doing just as well as Huey had done.
The rest of the flight continues with Huey and Chris taking turns flying the plane, each of their turns lasting ten minutes and Matthew dropped the quiz game and let them take turns without them having to answer a question, all the while Dewey and Louie were getting increasingly more jealous of Huey and Chris.
An hour later, Scrooge awoke from his nap and glanced out of his window, and what he saw excited him.
"Matthew, quick! Land the plane!" he said, waving a hand at him. "We're here!"
The kids all looked out of the window and saw an old castle below.
"Wow, that castle is huuuuge!" exclaimed Huey.
"Yeah, reckon it has some hidden treasure?" asked Louie.
"I bet it's filled with awesome death traps!" said Dewey excitedly.
"Dewey… you're weird…" Chris said, looking concerned for Dewey's sanity.
"Who isn't weird, Chris?" Dewey said, putting an arm around Chris' shoulder. "We're all weird sometimes."
"Yeah, but there is such a thing as unhealthy weirdness..." Chris pointed out.
"You try having two brothers and see if you can keep your sanity intact." Dewey said. "You try being the middle child." he added, making Chris wish he hadn't spoken.
"Get in your seats, boys and buckle up." Matthew said over his shoulder. "We're about to land."
The boys all obediently sat in their seats and buckled up. Matthew set the plane down for a smooth landing.
When the plane was safely on the ground and the engines were turned off, Matthew looked over at Scrooge, who had folded himself in a tight ball. He seems to be bracing himself for the impact of a crash.
"Mr. McDuck… Mr. McDuck!" Matthew said, placing a hand on the old duck's shoulder and shaking him.
Scrooge opened one eye. "Have we crashed yet?"
"No," Matthew said, looking insulted. "We've made a smooth landing, we're a few yards away from the castle courtyard."
"Ah, yes... my apologies, lad." Scrooge said, unfolding himself and looking a little sad. "My previous pilot always crash landed, and old habits die hard. Ah, curse me kilt, I miss that big lughead and his crashes..."
"Ah, that's understandable," Matthew said, looking a little happier, and then concerned. "...I think."
The kids had all run ahead, but remained in sight of the adults. They stopped in front of the courtyard. They were all gazing in awe of this vast castle with many turrets and towers.
"Unca Scrooge, what is this place?" Huey asked.
"Ah… That, my boy, is the castle of Pigwarts." Scrooge replied.
"Pigwarts? That's a funny name." Chris said, giggling.
"Aye, but it isn't the funny name that's the attraction, it's what's inside we're after." Scrooge said, waving his cane at the castle.
"What is it that we're after, Unca Scrooge?" Louie asked, looking greedy. "Gold? A magic lamp? Ooh, can I have one of the three wishes? Jewels? Diamonds? Or maybe some rubies!"
"Now I know who you take after…." Donald muttered, having heard Louie's questions from just behind him.
Scrooge laughed gleefully. "We're after something far more valuable than any of those mundane things."
"Wow, I never thought I'd hear you call money mundane…." Donald commented, looking surprised at his uncle.
"Indeed..." Scrooge said, looking a little surprised himself. "Well, what we're after is the Philosopher's Stone!"
"The Philosopher's Stone… What's that, Unca Scrooge?" Huey asked interestedly.
"Well, legends say it's a stone that can turn any metal into pure gold." Scrooge said, looking excited as well as greedy. "It also produces the Elixir of Life, which will make the drinker immortal."
"So, it's a stone that can create as much money and life as you could ever want." Matthew summarized, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Sounds like too much of a good thing to me."
"Well we've come too far to turn back now." Scrooge said, leading the way to the large oak doors. He tried to push the door open, but it would not budge. In the end, it took all of them to push it open.
"But Unca Scrooge, if you make all the gold you want with the Philosopher's Stone, wouldn't that devalue the price of all gold?" Huey asked as they pushed the door open.
"Why, yes, it would devalue all gold." Scrooge confirmed. "Which is why I must lock it away in my Other Bin, to ensure no one can inflate the value of gold!"
The door finally opened up on the very large entrance hall, the entrance hall was so big that the whole of McDuck's Manor would fit inside it.
"Alright, before we go any further in, we need to set up the buddy system." Matthew said, taking charge. "Chris and Huey to me. Dewey, you're with your Uncle Scrooge. Louie, you're with your Uncle Donald. Everyone stay with your buddy."
As he gave the orders, all four of the kids obeyed. Chris and Huey came over and stood on either side of Matthew, while Dewey and Louie went and stood next to their respective buddies.
Even though the buddy system was established, they still stayed together with each kid sticking close to his assigned buddy, all except Dewey. Dewey kept trying to wander off on his own, and drift away from Scrooge in search of booty traps, but Scrooge would hook him with his cane and pull him back to his side.
"Dewey, I'm a-not gonna tell you again," Scrooge said sternly the third time this happened. "You stick close to me, or you get back on the plane and wait for us there!"
"But I wanna see some really cool traps!" Dewey said sulkingly
Scrooge sighed, placing a palm to his face. "Oy…We shoulda left you at home… Look, lad, this castle is vast! Look at this entrance hall! Why, it's big enough to hold me manson! There's no telling how big the rest of the castle is. You could very easily get lost here."
"Don't worry, Mr. McDuck, I have a plan that will ensure we can find our way back to the entrance hall." Matthew said. "Chris, do you have your sheets of stickers?"
"Yes, Daddy," Chris said as he put his hand in his overall pocket and withdrew a dozen sheets of yellow smiley face stickers.
"Okay, Chris, now you've got an important job," Matthew said, bending down to Chris' level with his hands on Chris' shoulders, looking him dead seriously in the eyes. "It will be your job to place a sticker on the walls, doorposts, anything you can find. Within every twenty steps, you place a sticker on the nearest thing. Think you can do it?"
Looking proud that his Dad was tasking him with such a big and important job, Chris nodded and said: "Yes! You can count on me, Daddy!"
"Alright, let's go." Matthew said, and the set off to explore the castle, with Chris counting his every step and placing a sticker whenever he counted his steps up to twenty.
"...seventeen... eighteen... nineteen,,,,twenty!" Chris said, placing a sticker on a suit of armor.
"Tell me, Matthew, have you been a boy scout in your youth?" asked Scrooge, impressed with the way Matthew had come prepared. "Is that where you learned to leave trail markers?"
"Yeah, I was a boy scout when I was a kid, and I learned some more survival tricks in the military." Matthew said, keeping an eye on where they were going.
"Ah, a veteran, what did you do in the military?" Donald asked excitedly. "Were you a sailor? A pilot on an aircraft carrier?"
"No, I ranked my way up to captain of a squadron, and I've never taken off or landed on an aircraft carrier." Matthew said as they reached the third floor corridor. At the end of the corridor was a door that looked forbidden.
They all had a feeling that they should stay away from this door, except for Dewey and Scrooge, who marched ahead and then struggled to get the door open.
"C'mon! Help us get this blasted door open!" Scrooge commanded over his shoulder at the group standing way back.
"Uh, Uncle Scrooge?" Donald said nervously. "I don't think we should go in there…"
"Why not?" demanded Scrooge.
"Don't you sense the foreboding atmosphere around that door?" Matthew asked, holding Chris and Huey in his arms and standing way back.
"Of course I do!" Scrooge said impatiently. "The more foreboding, the more valuable the treasure is! Now help me open this thing!"
Donald and Matthew looked at each other.
"Well, that sort of does make sense…" Matthew said grudgingly.
"I just hope we don't regret this..." Donald said, looking reluctant to help open the door.
Against their better judgment, Donald and Matthew moved forward and helped Scrooge push the door open, with the kids helping.
The door suddenly flew open, causing the three adults and four kids who had been pushing on it, to fall forward into the room. Once they were all inside, the door slammed shut behind them and the torches all lit up to light up the room. And they found themselves facing a dragon.
They stared in fear at its feet and then slowly looked up at its head. There was more than one! It was a three-headed dragon!
The huge dragon filled the space between ceiling and floor, and it was looking down at them with a puzzled look, as if it was thinking 'Why did they come in here?' And then the dragon bared its' three months' worth of razor sharp teeth and breathed fire at them!
They all jumped out of the way and took refuge behind broken pieces of stone. All except Scrooge, who was batting away the balls of flame with his cane.
"No dragon is gonna stand between Scrooge McDuck and his treasure!" Scrooge declared as he batted away another ball of flames, deflecting them all.
"Is he INSANE?!" Matthew cried to Donald, laying over Chris and Huey behind a broken piece of stone pillar, shielding them with his body.
"Yeah, but what else is new?" Donald said, shrugging. "He's even worse with gold fever."
"Why is there a trapdoor between the dragon's feet?" Dewey asked.
"Huh?" Donald looked and saw it. "Could it be the next room where the treasure is?"
"Only one way to find out!" Dewey said, jumping out of his hiding place and ran towards the trapdoor.
"Dewey! NO!" Donald grabbed a shield that had been laying on the floor and ran after Dewey.
The dragon had blasted some fireballs in Dewey's direction, but Donald jumped in front of Dewey and shielded them both with his shield. "Remind me to ground you for life when we get home…" he said, annoyed while Dewey just grinned sheepishly.
Once the attack was over, Donald grabbed Dewey's wrist and pulled him back to the others, holding his shield up high as he went.
"AAHH!" screamed Scrooge as he went flying through the air, having whipped by the dragon's tail, he hit the wall and then fell to the floor, where he lay motionless.
"UNCLE SCROOGE!" cried Donald, running over to his uncle but was stopped as the dragon's tail slammed down in front of him. "HEY! Get outta my way, ya big palooka!" he yelled, kicking the dragon's tail.
The dragon was shocked at this reaction, it had expected fear, not defiance. It glared down at Donald with a more menacing look, slamming its tail down again. This only enraged Donald into his berserk state where he screamed out of a series of angry quacks and started beating up on the dragon's tail in a fit of uncontrollable rage.
The dragon yanked its' away from Donald and stared down at him in shock while the little mad duck continued to hop up and down in rage, waving his fists. That hurt!
"I… I don't believe it…." Matthew said in shock.. "Your Uncle Donald is taking on a DRAGON!"
"Yeah! Our uncle's the best! GO UNCA DONALD!" cried the triplets together.
Donald then jumped onto the tail and ran up its' back to its' heads and started pounding away on the heads. He even tied their three long necks into a prizel!
"There! That oughta teach ya!" Donald as he jumped down from the dragon, brushing off his hands as he walked away from it.
The triplets all cheered at Donald's apparent victory and Donald walked proudly towards them, holding himself up high like a hero. But Matthew felt uneasy as he watched the dragon. It moved! Before Matthew could cry out a warning to Donald, it had shot a jet of flame that set Donald's tail feathers ablaze!
"AAAHHH-AAAHHH-AAAAHHH!" Donald screamed as he shot up into the air, leaving a trail of smoke behind and when he came back down to the ground, he slapped his own behind frantically and then set his behind on the ground and dragged it across the ground, trying desperately to put the fire out.
The dragon pulled its three heads apart and then closed in on them.
The triplets were all screaming, Chris was whimpering into Matthew's chest as Matthew held him protectively.
"We're all gonna die!" screamed Louie hysterically, then he grabbed Dewey and shook him. "I'M TOO YOUNG TO DIE!"
Dewey, annoyed, slapped Louie across the face and then held him as they hugged each other in fear.
"Hey, what's this?" Huey said, spotting a flute on the floor. "A flute?" he said as he picked it up. "What's this doing here?" He blew the dust off of it before starting to play it.
The moment Huey started playing, the dragon stiffened and its eyes began to droop.
Matthew, realizing what was happening, urged Huey to keep playing while they checked on Scrooge.
Matthew and the boys ran over to Scrooge and sat him upright.
Scrooge let out a pained groan before looking around. "What… What happened? Where is that overgrown lizard?"
"It's over there," Matthew said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder at the dragon. Scrooge looked just in time to see it fall face-down with an earth-shaking crash.
Triumphant, Scrooge jumped to his feet. "That'll teach you to mess with Scrooge McDuck!"
"...and his second wing is here…" Matthew said in dismay, he was hoping this dragon would discourage Scrooge from pursuing the Philosopher's Stone, but no, he was determined as ever.
Scrooge ran to the sleeping dragon.
"And his gold fever is back too…" Donald said, his tail feather still smoking.
With his cane, Scrooge hooked the ring on the trap door, pulled it open, and then looked down.
"What do you see, Unca Scrooge?" Louie asked excitedly. "Mountains of gold? A pile of rubies? Huge diamonds?"
"Nay, lad, all I see is pitch black." Scrooge said. "And there's no way of climbing down, we'll have to jump."
"ME FIRST!" Louie cried eagerly, running to the trapdoor, preparing to dive right in. But Scrooge stopped him with the hook of his cane.
"Are you daft, boy? You're gonna crack your skull open." Scrooge said sternly as he threw Louie back, "Leave this to the professionals, boys, like your Uncle Donald." he added slyly.
"Yeah!" Donald said in agreement, and then he realized that he had just been played. "Wait, WHAT?! Why me?!" he whined.
"Because you're the bravest duck in the world and because I'm telling you to, now get in the hole!" Scrooge ordered.
"Crazy old loony…" Donald muttered under his breath as he approached the hole. Unfortunately for Donald, Scrooge heard him and when Donald was standing over the hole, looking down on the dark abyss, Scrooge kicked him right in!
The volume of Donald's screams got lower and lower, the further down he went until they heard soft flump! As Donald hit the bottom.
"UNCA SCROOGE!" cried the triplets in outrage.
"Whoops, my old foot slipped. It's not what it used to be, ya know." Scrooge said slyly, giving his foot a small shake. "Ah well, it's better now." he leaned over the hole and called: "Donald! Donald, are you alright, m'boy?"
"Yeah, and when I get outta here, I'm gonna strangle you…" Donald's voice sounded out of the darkness.
"Eh, he's fine." Scrooge said in a satisfied voice. "Alright, lads, jump in."
"YAY!" and one by one, the triplets jumped in after their Uncle Donald.
"Chris, you next." Scrooge said encouragingly
But Chris seems too scared to jump, it was too dark down there for his liking! He backed away until his back bumped into Matthew's legs, He then turned around and hugged his father's legs for comfort, hiding his face in them.
"Chris and I will go together," Matthew said, picking Chris up and holding him in his arms as he jumped in.
"Here we go, Scroogie ol' boy." Scrooge said to himself as he jumped in after them…
Author's Note:
What awaits our daring adventurers below the trapdoor? What challenges will they face next? Stay tuned to find out in part two of Prequel, Matthew's Tale!
Everything in these prequel episodes are flashback episodes as Matthew tells the story of his and Chris' past to Baloo, Rebecca, Kit, Molly and Wildcat.
Hope you all are enjoying this story so far.
Special thanks to my beta reader, Cyclone Blaze, for his feedback and encouragement during the writing of this episode.
