Disclaimer: Heavy chapter ahead. Sensitive readers be warned.
Disney Boy: They stole it while the family was preoccupied downstairs. And with the board distracted as well, Scrooge's office was fair game.
October 29, 8:03 PM
Doofus Drake's Mansion
Basement - Fourth Floor
...
"Quack of ages cleft for me, let me hide myself in Thee!"
The first verse of Quack of Ages Cleft for Me began to play, forcing Webby Vanderquack into yet another twisting hopeless endeavor to pull herself free.
Reaching almost dangerously high eardrum rupturing decibels, the deafening loud discordant of classic religious music blared through the itchy pair of earbuds taped around her head and vibrated her wax clogged ear canals. Yet the minor infected blockage still didn't give her a hint of relief.
She didn't want to believe that she was home, she just couldn't be. The familiar surrounding mansion hallway walls were dirty and decrepit, the wallpaper was torn off and filled with clustered patches of miniscule, oddly disturbing holes. The air was lonely and cold, yet somehow hot and stuffy with a damp taste of urine wafting about.
No light shone from outside the window frames, no bird dared to sing, it was just an infinite vacuum of utter nothingness behind the ripped up, dilapidated curtains.
Suddenly, a cold chill ran up her back, like a harsh piercing of sudden frigidness in her spine that was somehow aware and told her she was being watched. Her feathers all stood up on end, she was not alone.
Turning her head around, she saw them. Staring straight past her, and standing just far enough away so she couldn't be sure. They looked like Huey, Dewey, and Louie, but it couldn't be them, it just couldn't.
They were much taller than normal, or maybe she was just shorter. Their body proportions were uneven, with their sickly grey feathers filthy and molting off as their life had long been drained away from their unnaturally calm, uncanny faces. Just looking at them made her feel ever more sick, it was all giving her a terrible spitting migraine.
Their colored coded clothes were tattered and torn, hardly recognizable now from simple moth-eaten dishrags that only become even more decayed as they fell apart right before her eye. And hidden underneath, slowly oozing out from several poorly sewn up bite marks and dried rotten scabs, it looked like they were... bleeding!
No. N-No! No no no no- w-w-w-WAAAIIITTT- SHE WAS JUST SEEING THINGS! SHE WAS JUST SEEING THINGS! HER EYES WERE COVERED! SHE WAS JUST SEEING THINGS! SHE WASN'T HOME, SHE WASN'T HOME! SHE WAS STILL-
"Let the water and the BLOOD from Thy wounded side which FLOAD!"
That was it! They said something to her, they definitely said something to her! In picture perfect hypnotized exact unison they said something to her! Yet somehow without making a single sound.
Was it a warning? Just a friendly hello? A threat? Who knows? And Webby was frozen solid in place in overwhelming, heart pounding dread. They definitely said something to her.
Their eyes were blank and lifeless. They didn't blink, they didn't wanna blink, they couldn't blink, they refused to blink, they didn't even have eyelids. She just couldn't be sure.
And suddenly, without warning, the Duck triplets all reacted in similar fearfilled horror and ran, their legs barely holding them up long enough to disappear down into the thick darkness of the hallway that led on for forever.
She tried to call out to them, but no voice came out, not even the slightest small squeak. She was short of breath, her chest felt like it was on fire, yet empty, and it hurt so much to even try to move her tongue enough to form a single intelligible word. This is what Uncle Donald felt didn't he? Or maybe she actually could speak, but she just couldn't hear it. Who knew for sure?
Wait. Were they, running from her? She couldn't be sure, she just couldn't be sure, she couldn't even think clearly anymore. She could barely even move now, everything around her was just a noisy spinning blur. She couldn't even think clearly anymore.
Thud. The backs of her bleeding agonized webbed feet pressed up against something, causing what was left of the feathers down her back to stand up again in fear again. Something soft, something familiar, something, behind her. Somehow, she found the strength and courage to turn around.
Her whole body shook, her legs trembled, and her breath gave out. She tried to scream, but she couldn't. She tried to catch her breath, but she couldn't. She tried to run for it, but she couldn't.
Something was inside her, holding her back. Stiffening up her muscles so she couldn't act on her will to just ran away. A dark, malevolent, ungodly force of unfailing darkness and evil, silently screaming at her from inside of her head.
It was alive. Breathing, heavily, through her own lungs. Living closely in her warmth, feasting off life, and forcing her to watch in silence at figure that now lay before her.
Her bill had been repeatedly sewn shut, her eye had been stabbed clean through, black shadowy blood permanently stained her striped sweater, matching the same dull color of her empty, unharmed scelra. The figure that lay before her, dead at her at her feet, was...
W-W-W-WAIT! MR. STAAAAAAAAARLIIING! MASTER MAGICA! DOOFUSSSSSSSSS! PLEASE LET ME GO! PLEEEAAASSSEEE! I'VE LEARNED MY LESSON, I GIVE UPPPPPPPPP! I'LL BE GOOD! I'LL BE A GOOD GIRL! I'LL BE YOUR FIERCE ONE! I'LL PROMISSSSSSSSSE!
"Thee of sin the double cure save from raft and make me pure, let me hime myself in THEE!"
The chorus now screamed at her, they knew what she did, and they were furious with her. And who could blame them? She had stabbed, her very best frien-
NO, NO! NO NO NO NO NO NOOOOO! NOOOOOOOOOO! "NNNNNMMMMMMMMM-MMMMmmmnnnnn!"
Webby suddenly broke free back into the harsh, hot darkness of reality, only to be immediately greeted by a heavy wave of unrelenting terrible pain and a warm stream of tears running down her cheeks and through her soaked through blindfold.
Any hopes of standing strong and defiant against her captor's girm plans for her like a strong girl had long been lost. Something inside her just... broke. That's the only way she could describe it.
It hurt to try and stand still in obedience, it hurt to try and struggle free in defiance. Her tongue felt it the worst. She couldn't tell if it was bledding, or if it had been torn halfway through the center.
She was immobile. A living, breathing, sentient statue of Magica De Spell's mastery and final authority over her. She was, her Master's puppet, and she was long ready to have her strings pulled.
Where, even was SHE?! She was ready to give up! She had already given up! This... This was all part of her Master's plan of grand revenge against her! To give her hope of mercy for giving herself up to her, only to push her even harder!
Her little heart pounded heavily inside her chest, but she wished it didn't, she wished it stopped, she hated her heart. She wanted to throw up, but there wasn't enough in her stomach to hurl, just a mix of settling dark shadows and acid.
Cold sweat poured down her trembling numb body. She was dizzy, her mouth was dry, and she was so alone. All alone with her captors who wanted nothing more than to pointlessly and continuously tease and torment her.
She was hungry, she was thirsty, she was tired, she was exhausted, she was itchy, her wrists ached, and she hated those damnmed repeating songs. Just how much punishment could one little duck take?
She couldn't see, she couldn't hear, she couldn't speak, she couldn't think, she couldn't- she couldn't- she- SHE COULDN'T STAND IT ANYMORE! This... THIS WAS TOO MUCH!
PLEEEAAASSSEEE! SOMEONE, SOMEONE PLEASE! PLEEEAAASSSEEE! PLEASE SOMEONE FIND ME! SOMEONE PLEASE JUST LET ME GO! PLEEEAAASSSEEE! PLEASE JUST LET ME DIIIIEEE! PLEASE! PLEASE! PLEEEAAASSSEEE! I'll DO ANYTHING! I'll DO ANYTHING! ANYTHIIIIIIIIIIING!
"In my hand no prize I bring simply to Thy cross I CLIIINNNG!"
Something held her tongue in place above her, holding her head up and bill wide open to whatever someone wanted to force down her throat.
It wouldn't be long now until Mr. Starling gave her her third day drink of water and quiet creepy whispering in her ears, and at least it ment she would get another short break from those terrible, repeating, blaring songs.
That- That water was what was keeping her alive! But- But if she drank it and obeyed like a good girl, this would just keep going on forever! And if she tried to refuse it again and tried to fight back, he would just punish her again!
No, she couldn't refuse. Maybe if she took it without kicking or crying a lot like last time, he would figure she'd learned her lesson and would just let her go. God, she was so thirsty! She just wanted some juice...
"While I draw this pleading BREATH when my eyes shall close in DEATH!"
She was immediately back in the familiar dilapidated hallway, which had somehow grown ever worse and ruined since she'd last seen it. And she was now, face to face, with her greatest fear, staring her straight back, inches away from her face. And at that moment, she felt another light warm trickle run down her legs. She couldn't understand what she did to deserve this.
This was just like a nightmare, but the opposite was now somehow true. She wasn't having a nightmare, she wasn't having a dream, she was still wide awake, she couldn't be. It was much worse than that!
Something much, much WORSE!
Lena was, NOW STANDING UP ON HER FEET. JUST, STARING AT HER! WITH THOSE EMPTY SOULESS BLACK EYES! SHE HADN'T EVEN SEEN HER MOVE! ONE SECOND, SHE WAS DEAD ON THE FLOOR, THEN THE NEXT, SHE WAS JUST, STARING AT HER! SHE HADN'T EVEN SEEN HER MOVE!
She suddenly let out a wide impish smile as her vile flesh rotted clean off her bones, leaving behind only a black, red eyed outline of her very best friend.
WAIT! IT'S- IT'S NOT REAL! SHE WASN'T REAL! NONE OF THIS IS REAL! NOOOOO! SOMEBODY PLEASE HELP ME! ANYBOOOODDDYYY!
"Lord when I rise to world UNKNOWN and behold the on Thy THRONE!" The chorus screamed at louder, faster, and angrier than ever before.
She mouthed something to her, as she laid her weight on top of her on the floor and scratched her face with a slow cold fingerstroke. She- She FELT IT!
A foul moldy odor filled the entirety of the hall. She couldn't move, she couldn't breathe, she had HER!
NOOO! NOOO! NOOOOOOOOOOO! PLEEEAAASSSEEE!
Lena's presence finally began to rejoin back into her body. She was, her shadow.
NOOOOOOOOOOO! I SWEAR I'll BE GOOD! I SWEAR I'll BE GOOD! SOMEBODY PLEEEEAAAASSSSEEEE! PLEEEAAASSSEEE! PLEASE SOMEONE FIND ME! PLEEEAAASSSEEE! I'll- I'll...
Webby stopped struggling, finally accepting in peace that nobody was ever going to save her. Her friends, her family, she didn't need them anymore. She was completely, all by herself now. She'd have to make it, all on her own.
This was her fate. She was one day going to die here, all alone, all by herself. Standing up tall on her toes, she stood in still silence, awaiting whatever Jim Starling, her Master Magica, Doofus Drake, or whoever was going to throw at her. She would be good.
"Quack of ages cleft for me let me hide myself in Thee, let me hide myself in THEE!"
"Muh-ha-ha... ha...ha... ha..."
...
From amidst all the lonely loud darkness and misery from within her little desolate prison hidden deep underneath Duckburg, someone suddenly and finally scooped Webby up from off her toes on the floor and threw her over their shoulder.
She wasn't really that heavy now, so she wasn't much of a chore to carry around or manage anymore. She didn't even have the strength or motivation for it, so she didn't even bother or care enough to fight back for that matter, at least the music had finally stopped.
With every step, she felt the gentle rocking of the strong silent figure carrying her all the way up the basement stairs. She didn't even care who it was, or whatever they wanted to do with her.
If it was someone rescuing her she figured, they probably would have untied her arms and legs, taken her soaked blindfold off, and reassured her with the obvious lie that everything was going to be alright. This was not a rescue.
Maybe Mr. Starling or Doofus rented her off to someone who wanted to make out with her or something. Who cared? She certainly didn't, she didn't even care anymore, that wouldn't be the worst thing that happened to her. And at least someone paid enough attention to her to want her of all people.
Her legs swung back and forth as her head rested at the side of the strong figure's shoulder. Oddly enough, this was the most comfortable she had been in a long while, yet she still didn't have the young naive optimism or will to appreciate it.
Normal adventure family Webby might have appreciated it, but not slave prisoner puppet plaything Webby. All her life revolved around was getting hurt, spit at, beaten up, drugged, humiliated, and brought down to lowest forms of life possible.
Her body wasn't her own here. She no longer have the respect and dignity she once had. Everyone here probably already knew exactly what she looked like underneath what was once personal and private safely hidden under her clothes, and she absolutely hated that. It was her body, they didn't have a damn right!
Normal adventure family Webby might have had the gullibility and ignorance to just brush it off and move on with her life, but not this Webby. This Webby saw things in a much darker, grittier, unforgiving, light.
She wasn't lost, alone, scared, and all ridden with guilt. She hated all those attention seeking melodramatic kids, all torn up over nothing worthwhile. That was all their own faults, and she definitely wasn't to blame for this.
She understood everything now, and she wouldn't mind the least little bit if everyone living in this hell of a mansion right now were literally ripped apart into bloody pieces right in front of her. And at that moment, she was finally laid flat on her back on a cold, hard, smooth surface. And it hurt, her mouth completely took over.
"Fu... Fu... Fuc..."
She felt the tight lengths of strong tough rope come loose from around legs and wrists as she was rolled onto her stomach.
It had been so long since her poor aching limbs had actually been separate from each other, and she didn't even seem to care how much her clothes weren't covering her up and just how filthy and wet she was back there. And finally, her tear soaked black sleepmask was pulled off from around her head.
Her half caked over with sleep crud left eye stung and as a dim ray of light shone from the nearby stove in quiet still darkness of the mansion kitchen, she was fully untied now.
Maybe she actually was being rescued, or if she wasn't, at least they now had the courtesy of not having her being tied up all the time. She hated being tied up, it was boring, inconvenient, and it hurt a whole lot after a while. It wasn't like she could properly run away now anyway.
Being carefully turned back around and on onto her back, Webby's heart suddenly stopped, her breath gave out, her left eye was filled with visible fear and hopeless dread. She saw who had brought her up here, the room shrunk down to a tiny, claustrophobic shed. And she was terrified at what we saw.
The Sorceress of the Shadows, Magica De Spell, a living, rotting, eyeless abomination of a witch, stood tall over as she laid on her back on the kitchen counter. Her slender skeleton form was covered by a spotless white nurse's outfit in a cruel ironic mockery of what so was about to do to her.
"Hi..." She glanced down at her with a calm subtle smirk.
...
"I AM A DUMB LITTLE SLUT, WHORE FACE, HUSSY-"
"Stop it! Settle dow-"
"AAAHHHH! AAAAHHHHHHHH! I SWEAR I'LL BE GOOD! I SWEAR I'LL BE GOOD! I swear! I SWEAR! I SWEAR!"
She began to kick about and cry uncontrollably, completely exhausting herself in a stress induced painful sobbing fit until the world around her finally came into focus through her tears.
The person who was holding her down was indeed not her grim Master Magica De Spell, but instead the elderly head of the Beagle Clan, Ma Beagle.
With a frown, she held up the small weight that used to be attached to Webby's tongue for her to see, leaving behind the metal ring still cut into her sensitive infected flesh. Yet Webby still wasn't the least bit grateful for it, in fact, she was fuming. She was furious.
"WELL?! WHAT DO YOU WANT?! WHAT DO YOU HAVE TO SAY FOR YOURSELF?! WHAT ARE YOU EVEN DOING HERE?! WHAT DO YOU- Oh GOD this hurts so much. I hate my life..."
The heavily sleep deprived young duckling let herself fall onto her back and clutched her still broken arm in terrible throbbing pain. Her being tied up for so long really didn't help it heal that much.
"Phew! What in all manner of purgatory even went on down there?" Ma Beagle asked while waving her hand in front of her nose in disgust.
"It smells like-"
"I'm- I'm sorry. I- I couldn't help it." Webby quickly apologized in shame, hoping that she wouldn't be punished for it.
"Wait, is that... UUUUUUUAAAAAHHH!" She gasped after recognizing the familiar delicious scent of greasy fast food in the air.
"A HAMBURGER?! UUUUUUUAAAAAHHH!" She gasped again. "AND FRIIIIES?!"
"UUUUUUUAAAAAHHH! HAMBURGER HIPPO! Wait. What if they're- if they're, poisoned?!" Webby paused and glanced wide-eyed down at the taunting brown paper bag in front of her on the counter.
"...I DON'T CARE!" Webby quickly snatched up the burger and began to immediately scarf the whole thing down her mouth whole.
Although she wasn't very picky, she was so hungry and starved for a good meal, she'd eat pretty much anything other than cold unsweetened oatmeal and raw uncooked bread crumbs at this point.
"Eat up kid. You'll need the strength..." Ma Beagle watched crossly as Webby just continued to happily chow down on her long-awaited, sweet savory meal.
With the soft light and her sitting up, she could finally see just how bad of a shape Webby was in, and it wasn't a pretty picture. Her entire visage was a disheveled unkempt mess, making her look much more like a poor mistreated unfed zombie than an actual living duckling.
She had been dressed in what looked like a miniature version of Jim Starling's own signature outfit, compete with a jacket, cape, and an oversized, bright red fedora.
From what she could see, patches of her now sicky green feathers had fallen out in random immodest places. Revealing her rough, patchy, pink skin underneath that was covered with a wide assortment of blisters, bruises, cuts, and burns.
Even more alarming was her weight. She was much skinnier and lighter than most young ducklings, even for a four year old. She had been starved, lacking any and all traces of baby fat she once had, it was a miracle that she was even alive.
Her right eye was now completely closed shut, while her heavily dilated left eye shone of a dull yellow color with a shrunken in slit pupil in the darkness.
Her short duckling legs had been unethically vandalized all over with all manner of deep visible cuts and crude graffiti scribbled on in black permanent marker, not an inch of her legs were spared.
The tips off all her tiny delicate fingers had been cut off and thrown down the garbage disposal probably, while her left thumb was now completely gone.
Her long uncut hair was a dirty and unsightly mess, reaching all the way across the counter behind her and over short, messy, tail feathers.
After quickly gobbling down her juicy meal and realizing how oddly offended she felt by just being fed like a dog like this, Webby frowned down at her kness while completely ignoring the fries beside her.
"...Why are you here? How can you bring me lower? What more could you possibly do to me?"
"Why are you green?" Ma Beagle simply asked.
"Who cares? Who cares about anything anymore?" The young duckling laid back down on the counter and shut her eyes, her persistent headache was only getting worse by the second.
"You don't obviously. You're just like all the others, you're just here to make fun of me. Maybe to hit me, maybe just to kick me. Because that's all I am to you isn't it? Just a thing, just a thing to be used..."
"What's wrong with your eye?" Ma Beagle asked as she gently touched her right eye, it felt like something sharp and hard had been lodged deep inside it.
"Ow! STOP! Don't- Don't TOUCH IT! Aaaaaaahhhh!" Webby screamed back in pain and fought hard to swat her hand away.
"Where's Magica? Has she given up?! Left to torture and maim another helpess and defenseless person because I stopped being fun? Huh? Is that IT?"
"Why aren't you laughing, aren't you supposed to be laughing? Isn't this funny enough to you?! Is having me like this not good enough? Maybe you'd like to finish the job yourself?"
The young duckling pushed herself onto her stomach and pulled up the bottom of her jacket to get smacked. Any shame she might had by exposing herself like this was long gone, she just couldn't care less.
"Go ahead! Just PUNISH me some more! Go ahead, just do it ALREADY! YOU- You know you want...want to..."
Her tired and frustrated high-pitched voice trailed off into a pained soft whisper, what was even the point of talking anymore? Even though that terrible awful thing was finally cut off from her tongue, she still felt it's weight. Pulling her down, and leaving her in a constant state of almost incomprehensible speech and unspeakable agony. It still hurt so much.
"...Whoa, she's cute. And also really really ugly. Kinda a funny looking cute."
"Go ahead, laugh it up you idiot..." Webby coldy muttered without even bothering to look up, she knew exactly who it was.
"Beaks, what do you think you're doing here?!" Ma Beagle asked in clear frustrated annoyance as Mark Beaks just walked into the dimly lit kitchen.
"Duuuuh! I was bored! And also, you took my phone..."
"Ehhh. Never should brought you here in the first place..." She growled.
...
"HEY! Can't you read the sign, do not feed the foooool?" A deep, menacing, familiar voice suddenly spoke up from the dark corner of the room and as a shadowed figure pointed towards the basement door. Webby immediately knew who it was.
That, evil, cackling, bastard of a duck that carefully and creatively teased her every night, forced her to listen to hours upon hours of loud ironic music, and kept her alive while never giving her a moment of peace for weeks on end.
That, evil, heartless, depraved bastard of a duck, was-
"Starling!"
"Greetings kids. How's things?" He gave them all a devilishly deranged smirk.
"...Aaahhh! A guy!" Beaks was briefly taken back in surprise before quickly recomposing himself in a professional manner.
"Ohhhh nice, okay okay, here we are! I'm Beaks, one of the McDuck Destruct Team managers. Heeeyyy! Nice to meet you!"
"Hey pal, didn't see ya there." He politely shook his hand.
"That's the story of my life..." Webby just buried her face deep into Ma Beagle's shoulder, everything hurt so much.
"...You. What have you done with her?" She asked as she held Webby close to her.
The old masked duck in a cape just smiled, showing off his rows and rows of sharp pointy teeth in pride. He was so proud of himself.
"Let's just say that, her spirit has been, broken..."
Webby just whimpered in response and held herself closer to Ma Beagle. She was somehow the only source of comfort she had to cling onto now, and at least she hadn't tried to hurt her that much, and if she still had the rest of her fingers, she'd be scratching herself so hard right now.
"So, uh. Creepy masked old guy. How's things been with you?" Beaks asked.
"Like- have, have you- uhhh... Aw man. Now- Now this is why I prefer talking to people over the phone. It's just much easier to just bail on the conversation that way."
...
"Oh, not much, just been spending the nights here, while I've been my days over in St. Canard. Checking up, on this, girl. This, little, girl..."
"Okay, cool. Cool cool cool cool cool cool. Wait, you mean like a little little type little girl?"
"Yeeeeppp. Here let me show ya..."
Jim pulled out a printed off scrapbook collection of random photos of an unfamiliar older looking duckling with brown feathers, green eyes, and fiery red hair.
The most peculiar thing about the photos though was not that how unaware she seemed that she was even getting her picture taken in all of them, but how most off the photos were taken in taken in expense of her own privacy.
"You like her?" He asked. "She's nine, Latina, athletic, has just the sweetest disposition. She's got spunk, but she's an orphan."
"She's got no folks, no family, no friends, no nothing! She's all alone in this world. It just, tears at your heartrings. She scares them you know..."
"Wait, who's the THEM we're talking about here?" Beaks asked.
"The hopeful parents." He said. "She scares them. They all expect a sweet little innocent girl, only to get a hockey puck straight to the face. Ha ha ha HA! HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!" Jim let out a deranged cackle and rubbed his twisted hands together.
"That's my kinda girl. She'll be the perfect sidekick..."
"Y-You forced me to laugh, you forced me to smile, but I was still hurting. I was powerless, I couldn't do anything. And if you had given me the chance, I would have gladly became your fierce one."
The long battered and abused young duckling couldn't stand holding herself back like this anymore. She had been kept from speaking up for so long, all the bile and anger burning up inside her began to spill out in her cold, highly irritable voice.
"Why- WHY DID YOU DO THAT MEEEE?! At least Magica had a reason to hate ME! I DIDN'T EVEN DO ANYTHING TO YOOUUU! You're awful Starling! You're effing AWFUL!"
"...The name is no longer Starling! Nor, Jim, nor Darkwing DUCK! That man is dead! From this day forward, I will be known as, Negaduck. And it's all thanks to you kid. You should feel proud." The old duck gently stroked his finger underneath her bill with a smirk.
"You were laughing. I was wishing for death, and you were laughing..."
"So uh, what's her name?" Beaks finally asked, not that he was really interested in knowing it or anything.
...
"Gosalyn, Waddlemeyer..." Negaduck replied with a slowly widening smile.
"I even learned a little Spanish so I could talk to her. How's this- How's this?" He pulled out a brightly colored yellow notebook from his jacket and read from it after clearing his throat.
"Buenos días, snookums... Cuerdas demasiado apretadas? Como una bebida? Tal vez un, masaje?"
"...Well, waddayathiiiink?" He asked.
"Yeah, she lives here in the U.S., she can probably understand English." Beaks argued.
"Yep, yep yep yep. Welp! You can never can be too sure. Besides, I like feisty girls better. They scream harder when you break their legs..."
Ma Beagle and Mark Beaks were left speechless.
"...Just kidding." He said as he continued to slowly mangle and dissect an eerily familiar looking remote control apart with his bare hands, and Webby wasn't fine.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUHHHH!" She began to struggle and thrash about wildly again in Ma Beagle's grasp.
"THAT- THAT USED TO BE A PERSON! A PERSOOOOOOON!"
"Relax, it's just a worthless hunk of junk..." She told her to try and calm her down.
"NO! NOOOOO! IT'S A PERSON! A PERSOOOOOOOOOON!"
"Okay, WHOA. Is she like, totally nuts or something?" Beaks asked after backing up a bit in concern for her.
"Why- WHY won't anyone believe ME?! YOU'RE ALL ADULTS! YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO KNOW BETTER! I AM SMART! I HAVE A CHOICE! I AM MY OWN PERSOOOON! I KNOW WHY! I DON'T CARE! JUST KILL ME YOU COWARDS! KILL ME!"
"...C'mon kid, you're going home. We'll be taking her off your hands now." Ma Beagle began to carry Webby away.
"Be my guest, she won't be much trouble now. Eh-heh-heh-heh-heh-heh-heh-heh." Negaduck let a dark sinister chuckle and lovingly caressed a particularly creepy photo with his finger as literary drooled over it.
"Daddy's coming, girly..."
"NOOO! I don't wanna go home! Don't take me back! Don't take me back! No! NO! NOOOO! You got gun?! A knife?! ANYTHING?! SHOOT ME! STAB ME! THROW ME AGAINST THE WALL! I DON'T CARE! JUST KILL MEEEEE!"
"Man, just what is up with her?" Beaks was now completely dumbfounded at how this McDuck kid was acting.
"Real abuse victims don't act this way. She was probably just brainwashed by Scrooge to think she was hurt so he'd just get more money and attention. She's CLEARLY overreacting!"
Webby suddenly feel silent. She stopped her futile struggling, she stopped her thrashing, she even stopped her crying. Like everything inside her suddenly came to rest, she paused everything and looked aside to the floor with a single, yellow, demonic eye.
"...Don't you get it? I stopped caring about my life a long time ago. No matter what happens to me now, I will always be known as the poor little girl who gave herself up to the witch who tortured her Webby."
"Not world-class adventurer explorer Webby, not best sleepover friend Webby, not even plain ol' boring simple mansion Webby who had a family that loved her Webby. Just the poor little hurt baby girl to be seen with pity Webby."
"Don't you get it? My life is ruined, I'll never be able to move on from this, I have nothing left to live for. My life is ruined, and my pain is, immeasurable."
"My life... is- is over..." She cried softy to herself as she buried her face back into her shoulders
"Aww, it can't be all bad." Beaks reassured her and pulled out his phone he had taken back. "Here, check out this funny DuckTok video with shadow puppets mimed along to this famous popular song I don't know. It's going viral!"
And with that, Webby's face suddenly turned blood red as she began hyperventilating in steaming anger.
"Lena... LENA! LENNNNNNAAAAAAAAAAA!"
...
"Okay, I'm lost. Maybe it was something a little stronger than her being coached by Scrooge. Just what is up with HER?!"
"Her best friend was a shadow..." Ma Beagle quickly explained to him.
"Wait, a shadow?" Beaks paused and then looked back at her in disbelief.
"...Ah ha ha HA, ha ha! That's really funny! Ha ha ha ha! Ha ha- AAAAHHHHHH!"
The laughing ignorant tech billionaire was almost immediately tackled flat onto his back as Webby threw herself at him to punch his brains out. She wasn't holding back on him anymore, she was hot under the collar, and fit to be tied.
He had broken Huey's trust, teamed up with Glomgold to try and destroy her and her family, tried to force adorable sweet innocent Fenton to work for him, tried to murder him, ruined his perfect date, was probably an evil spy, and was overall just an incredibly annoying stuck-up ignorant idiot buttface.
Not even an alien invasion fazed him, he deserved to die, and she was ready to kill.
"-aaaaaaAAAAHHHHHH! No no no no no no- AAAAHHHHHH!" Beaks began to tearfully beg and plead for his life as Webby slowly lifted up her shaking fist to punch his lights out.
Her face was now almost completely unrecognizable from what it was once was. Her umbrushed teeth ground together in her bill, her eye was shrunken and heavily focused in rage, and her blood vessels popped out in fury. She screamed at him.
The friendly and easygoing adventurous Webby Vanderquack her friends and family once knew was long gone. All that was left of her now was just an angry, broken, pessimistic, hopelessly irritable, murderous empty shell of her former self.
In an ironic way, Magica De Spell's original plan was a success. Dispite not even being here, she had corrupted her, twisted her into everything she once hated and fought against. Even without brainwashing, the young duckling was lost, completely led astray in her own shattered state of mind. Just what was going on in there?
She lifted her curled up fist to kill him. She wanted to see him die, she wanted to see him suffer in his final moments because of what he did. She was going to kill him.
She- She-
Plop. She collapsed onto Mark Beak's chest in exhaustion. Webby's extreme lack of focus and energy right now had just saved his life.
"I- I thought you were laughing..." She barely managed to say into his shirt.
"Uugghhh! Why isn't this working?!" Ma Beagle groaned loudly in impatience. "She should be asleep by now! She ate every last bite of that burger!"
"Yeah, and they were delicious too." Beaks quickly added as he sat up with Webby still on top of him.
"...You idiot! They had sleeping powder in them! I told you not to eat them!"
Beaks was stunned.
"Wait, then- then why am I still not asleep? I don't feel the least bit tire-" Mark Beaks was instantly cut off as the powder took affect, knocking him and his phone fast asleep on the floor.
"I tried! I can't fall asleep! I can't! It's hopeless! I'll never sleep again! NEVER SLEEP AGAAAAAIN!" Webby writhed and twisted on the floor as she tried to scratch herself with noticeable lack of fingertips.
"THERE'S ONLY ONE ESCAPE! ONE ESCAPE! ONE ESCAAAAAAAAAPPPEEE!"
Despite how much it hurt, Webby leaped to her feet and slammed her head hard against the wall, hoping it would somehow snap her neck. It hurt so much, but she didn't care, she just didn't care. And with a final head-splitting crack in the wall, Webby finally felt something break loose on the inside as her world begin fade.
She had done it. She had finally, f-f-finally-
"It's almost over. It's almost all over. Finally, it's all over. So... nearly..."
"...f-free-"
The young duckling fell unconscious as she slumped over bill down, tail up on the floor, her dismal frown never once leaving her disfigured, dreary face.
"Esssh. For goodness sakes." Ma Beagle scooped Webby's dirty, frail little body up by her shoulders and carefully looked her over, she was still breathing.
"Pine?"
"Reporting for DUTY!" Agent Ammonia Pine stood alone in the dark kitchen doorway.
"Any word from your... uhh, contact?"
"Ready and waiting! But fiiirrst!" The disgruntled F.O.W.L. agent marched forwards and gestured towards Webby with a soapy bucket and mop.
"-iiiick! She's all FILTHY! Just disgusTANG! What she needs, is good ol' fashion SCRUBDOWN!"
"...Eagle?" Ma Beagle asked without even turning around. She knew he was back there, she called it: Beagle's intuition.
"Yeaas?"
"Got your, Gimzosuit?"
"That... And THIIISS!" A short white Eagle in a lab coat held up a lifeless, grey robot boy in hands.
"Meet 2-BO, B.O.Y.D.! The famed killer robot of Dr. Akita! The greatest, most detrimental, fully functioning automatic weapon known to all mankind! And it's mine! All, all MINE!"
"B is for blaze that burns down the whole TOWN! O is for obliter-A-tion! Y is for nooooo..."
"-Can it Eagle. Don't forget who's really in charge here..." Ma Beagle interrupted and just walked past him with Webby safely in her arms.
"HMPH!" Emil huffed. "That HACK Gyro Gearloose, really thought by faking his death, he could escape wrath?! Don't you know who you're up against?! A genius Gearloose! A GENIUS!"
"Hear me you Gearloose! This plan can't possibly fail! Duckburg will bow to my genius, even your own creations will turn against you! And then I, Emil Eagle, will rule the WORLD! Ah-HAAA! Hahahahahahahaaa!"
Ma Beagle just glared angrily at him.
"...I went to college!"
"AaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAUUUGGHH!" Webby suddenly began screaming and bawling her eyes out, tears streamed free down her face and onto her jacket.
"Eehhhhh!" The Eagle immediately dropped B.O.Y.D. to the floor and covered his greatly suffering ears.
"Can someone shut that squalling brat up- FINE THEN! I'll do it myself!" He quickly pulled her away to set her straight.
"No, no! Please! Please! PLEASE! Please just kill me! Please just kill me! PLEASE JUST KILL ME!" Webby cried and blindly kicked about in the air.
Emil smiled wickly. "...Gladly!"
"HOLD IT!" Ma Beagle quickly snatched her safely back.
"Whaaat?! She asked FOR IT!"
"Settle, DOOOWWWWN!"
Webby flinched and held her hands up to her face, unconsciously preparing herself to get hit.
Ma Beagle sighed. "Nobody's going to kill you. It'll be fine. Everything's going to be fine..."
"I underestimated you. I thought Magica was my greatest enemy. But here I am. Beaten, bruised, violated, on the last leg of my life. And yet you won't even let me have me have my final wish." Webby stopped to take a breath.
"You win. You're a better villain than Magica could ever be. You're hurting me more than anyone else ever could. By keeping me alive, making me suffer, making me... making me... Heh. Heh-heh... Heh..."
Webby giggled, finally giving up on the last little bit of sanity she had left. And in that moment, she had truly became, the next Magica De Spell.
"...Y-YOU GUUUUYS HAVE MADE EVERYTHING HORRIBLE FOR ME! YOU'VE ALL BEEN LIVING LIKE KIIIIINGS, WHILE I'VE BEEN WASTING AWAY IN MY OWN CRAAAAAAAAPPPPP! YOU'RE ALL AWFUL! AND I HATE YOOOUUU!"
"UNCLE SCROOOOOOOGE?! GRANNY?! GUUUYYYYS?! WHERE ARE YOOOUUU?! PLEEEEEASSSEEE! SOMEBODY PLEASEEEEE! HELP MEEEEE!"
"WHHHHHHHYYYYY?! WHHHHHHHHHYYYYYYY- HHHHHMMMM!" Webby could only sob and lash out helplessly as Ma Beagle finally tied a clean handkerchief around her head and into her bill, only barely muffling her shrill agonizing screams.
Although she felt kinda bad for her, there was no turning back now. The show had to go on.
"We'll all be going now..." Ma Beagle walked past Doofus Drake who had just been standing there watching them in silence with his terrified father. His thick reflective glasses completely hid his dull, expressionless eyes
"Oh. Please do take very good care of her. She's been so terribly stressed lately. Just simply fraught with unease."
"But." Doofus sighed sadly. "That is unfortunately to be expected. This is her very first time after all. And one can never truly understand life, until it grows from deep inside you..."
"MMMMMMM- NO! NOOOO! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-OOOOOO!" Webby forcibly spit out her wet gag from her mouth as she was only held tighter and carried away. She absolutely, did not, want to go home.
"CURSE YOU, JIM STARLING!"
"CURSE YOU, DOOFUS DRAAaaaaKKKEE!"
"CURSE YOU, DE SPEEEEEEEEEEEEELLL!"
"YOU BASTAARDS! I'LL KILL YOU! I'LL KILL EVERY LAST SINGLE ONE OF YOU! I'LL KILL YOU! I'll KILL YOU AAAAAAAAAAAAALLLLLL!"