Author's Note: Not feeling very chatty this week. Or very confident. Eh. Have a chapter.
Webby watched Duckburg recede into the distance. Black Heron had been berating her for the past hour about her failures and inadequacies. Lena had awoken during that time and although the older teenager said nothing, she could feel the heat of her gaze. The worst part was that Black Heron was only warming to her subject. The airport was another hour away and she showed no signs of stopping either the car or her mouth.
Webby had confidence in herself, inasmuch as she could handle fights. When it came to other areas, however, she had no self-esteem. Black Heron had spent Webby's entire childhood tearing her down. Steelbeak only built her up when he needed her ego stroked, but since he was so full of himself, that hadn't happened very often. So, while Webby might've been overconfident, brimming with enthusiasm, and otherwise encouraging in another universe, she wasn't in this one. She could feel her spirit sink with each insult, although she'd ceased to hear them specifically. It was more a miasma of misery.
Black Heron had to finally stop for gas and as soon as she had left the car, Webby's shoulders sagged. She felt wretched.
"And I thought my aunt was bad," Lena said and Webby glanced at her. She'd almost forgotten the other girl was there.
"Does that woman ever shut up?"
"She hates me because my granny was her arch-enemy. She's responsible for Black Heron missing an arm," Webby said quietly. She knew the story well, as it was one that Black Heron liked to throw in her face. She must've mentioned it today, but all the insults and derogatory comments had blurred together.
"Huey said you were kidnapped," Lena said and stared at her. "Kinda ironic."
"I don't have a choice," Webby said, staring out the window. The gas tank would be full soon and once it had, this conversation would be over. The brief respite would be over and it'd be back to berating her.
"I heard that," Lena said. "She went on and on about how much she'd like to kill you."
"Yeah, heh," Webby said. Black Heron was snapping at the pump like it had personally wronged her. Perhaps it had. Webby glanced back at the other girl. The paralytic should've worn off by now, but Lena's stiff posture suggested that it hadn't. That must've been the additional dose. Webby grimaced, guilt gnawing at her. She was going to make such a terrible FOWL operative unless she could wrestle her conscience down and destroy it.
The problem with that was that she was afraid of losing what was left of herself. Her secret self, the one she'd been determined to keep from FOWL. She saw Dewey's face in her head and fought a sigh. She balled her fists. It didn't matter how Dewey felt about her. She'd never see him again.
Forcing herself to relax her fists as Black Heron returned to the car, her hand brushed against a small device pinned to her shirt. Webby glanced down and it blinked red; a tracking device, it had to be. Dewey must've tagged her when she'd been in the arcade when she'd grabbed him. That was clever.
What she ought to do was rip the device off and throw it out the window. He had to realize she wouldn't tolerate GPS tracking. Mrs. Beakley must've put him up to it. She tugged on her shirt and grimaced; the material would rip before it would yield the electronic. There was no subtle way to extract it.
Webby cast her gaze about for scissors or something sharp to cut the device off. Wait. She was an idiot. Reaching down just as Black Heron slid behind the wheel again, she pulled out her serrated blade and hacked the tracker off. Black Heron peeled away and Webby opened the window, tossed the device out, and shut the window again. The bitter cold air slapped her in the face as she did so, which merited more denigration from Black Heron.
It was ironic. She'd known Black Heron for ten years but she only knew her by her code name. With Steelbeak, she wasn't even sure her father had another name.
"I get it, you hate her," Lena interjected while Black Heron was in mid-sentence. "Could you cool it?"
"Teenagers," Black Heron snarled, disgusted. "Give her more of the paralytic agent, Webbigail."
"It's too dangerous," Webby objected. "I don't want to permanently hurt her. And if you injure her, Steelbeak won't be happy with you."
Black Heron hissed, glowering at the two in her rearview mirror. "Then figure out a way to shut her up, Vanderquack."
To Webby's immense relief, a barrier rose between the front and back seats and blocked out all sound. While Webby was certain that Heron hadn't finished insulting her, Webby could no longer hear her. The tension drained out of her and she glanced over at Lena, who was smiling at her. Why was she smiling?
"What is it?" she asked.
"I'll be damned. Dewey's right about you. You really do have a good heart underneath that."
"Too bad it's gonna get me killed," Webby muttered.
"Why didn't you take Mrs. Beakley's offer? She would've protected you. And she is your grandmother. Plus, McDuck Manor has mad security. FOWL would never have been able to reach you in there."
"She's the enemy," she hissed. "Everything that's happened to me has been her fault. Why should I trust her?"
"No, everything that's happened is because some idiots held a grudge and decided to punish a kid for it," Lena countered. "It's the same thing that happened to me. My aunt decided I was her pawn and used me to get revenge against Scrooge."
Webby gnawed the inside of her cheek. Lena and Dewey had introduced doubts about who she was and what she was doing. It hadn't helped that she didn't feel connected to FOWL, only obligated to it. FOWL ruled with fear and control, which, while effective, left her adrift. Her grandmother had mentioned love. Webby hadn't felt love in years.
"The McDuck family actually took me in after I betrayed them," she continued. "They care about me. And I'm not even family. You are."
Wasn't Webby supposed to be the one convincing Lena to abandon her morals and join FOWL? How was it that Lena was doing such a good job twisting Webby around? Webby stared at the floor. She could see the airport in the distance. When she left for Mount Vesuvius (or the closest approximate, since she couldn't exactly land near an active volcano), she would leave Lena in FOWL custody.
Dewey's words echoed in her head.
"Think about what FOWL's done to you. Do you really want to subject someone else to that?"
"How well do you know Dewey?" she blurted and then hated herself for it. What did it matter? She wasn't going to see Dewey again. Once her mission was over, she'd stay with FOWL. It wasn't home, but it was the best she could get. She forced herself to look at Lena, who was staring back at her.
"Pretty well. Not as well as Louie-I'm the closest to him-but I know he's a theatre nerd who's passionate about what he likes. And I know he likes you."
Webby didn't respond.
"He got under your skin, didn't he?" Lena prompted. "Now you're questioning what you've been told."
Webby wanted to hug herself again. She felt as isolated as she had on that rooftop. Sighing, she rested her forehead against the window. In a few minutes, Lena's words wouldn't matter. She'd ascend the ramp to that plane and start the second part of her mission. The next time she saw Lena again, if she did, it would be with Lena as FOWL's latest weapon.
Webby's stomach jerked violently. Dewey's words poked at her again. Lena would be as much a prisoner as she was. But FOWL wasn't that bad, was it? Yes, they were the villains, and yes, they'd kidnapped her from her grandmother, but she wouldn't be this strong on her own. She wouldn't be the kind of person they needed, the kind of person she needed to be.
"You have a choice," Lena said. "You can stay here and let them ruin your life. Or you can break away from them and return to your real family."
Too many doubts. Webby huffed. Lena and Dewey were too effective at what they were doing. It was getting irritating. Staring out the window, she thought of the tracker she had abandoned. It would've been too easy.
"FOWL is my family," she said.
"You don't believe that. They're as much your family as Aunt Magica is mine," Lena scoffed.
"Shut up," Webby snapped. "Shut up, shut up, shut up!"
The car stopped and Black Heron rolled the partition down. She smirked. "Have a nice little chat about your new place in FOWL, girls?"
"I'm not helping you," Lena snapped, folding her arms across her chest. "You can torture me if you want. I don't care. And Scrooge McDuck will be looking for me."
"Like he was looking for Webbigail?" Black Heron sneered, jumping out of the car and yanking the door open. When Webby didn't immediately leave the car, she unsnapped her seatbelt and yanked her out bodily. Her mechanical arm pointed its positron gun at her.
"That's what I mean," Lena said, but she wasn't talking to Black Heron. She was looking at Webby. "You have a real family waiting for you. You don't have to do this."
"Of course she does," Heron said dismissively. She dug into her pocket and produced a small burner phone. "Call us when you land."
Webby turned the phone over in her hands. It was the first time they'd trusted her with one. She had memorized her grandmother's number, though she'd never dial it. Dewey's number burned in her pocket. Dewford Duck. She was getting obsessed and that was dangerous.
Black Heron manhandled Webby, the gun never far, and shoved her toward the plane.
"Call us when you land," she repeated. "And bring us Magica's staff. Failure is not an option. Better to let her kill you than return empty-handed."
She sneered and cuffed Webby hard in the back of the head. "Go."
"Webby!" Lena called and Webby glanced back. Their eyes met and for a few seconds, Webby had a half-formed notion of running away from Black Heron, seizing the car, and driving away, back to Duckburg. She didn't know the way or how to drive a car. And yet, it was tempting, just like McDuck Manor.
"Dewey won't give up on you and neither will I," Lena called. Webby's heart did flip-flops.
"Shut up," Black Heron growled, silencing Lena. Shaken, Webby ascended the ramp and entered the plane. The engines were running and she patted her pocket. There was a suitcase in the storage bin above her head-perhaps Black Heron had retrieved her belongings. The pilot, however, was nowhere to be seen.
Webby's fingers trembled when she dialed Dewey's number.
"Hello?" Dewey said, answering on the first ring. That was unusual. She nearly dropped the phone and fumbled with it. When she pressed it back against her ear, she was trembling.
"Hi," Webby said quietly.
"Webby!" he cried and the excitement and joy in his voice warmed her. He was close enough to touch or so he felt, his voice in her ear. She felt like she could sink into that warmth, be safe and unblemished.
The engines roared and the pilot reappeared. Webby cursed.
"I have to go," she said. "I'll call you when I get there."
"Get where?" Dewey asked.
"Mount Vesuvius," she said and then wondered what was the point in telling him. FOWL wouldn't want him there and anyway, there was no proof he could reach her in time. But she didn't want to give up on him either. Her throat was tight.
"I'll be there," he promised and she scoffed.
"Don't make promises you can't keep," she chastised. She hung up and clasped the phone to her. The pilot was giving her a strange look-how much of that had he heard? He was a heron too, possibly related to Black Heron, and he looked suspicious. She offered him a weak smile.
"I don't know who you told," the pilot snapped. "But we'll be waiting for them. With guns. Stupid girl."
Webby's eyes widened. Shit. She should not have told Dewey anything. But...she didn't want to let him go. He was the first person to look at her and see something other than FOWL's propaganda. He saw her for her and that was worth a great deal.
The pilot suddenly smirked. "Maybe we'll be lucky. Maybe Agent 22 herself will show up and we can finish off what's left of your family."
He closed off the pilot's area and Webby whimpered, horrified by the implications of what she'd done. She was sorry. Sorry she was being a sentimental fool. Sorry she had let herself get pulled into what she thought was normalcy. She wasn't destined for that. After all this time, she ought to know better.
She shut off the burner phone for the time being. It was buzzing and she stopped it mid-vibration. Dewey Duck. Lena de Spell. How had they gotten to her so fast? She groaned, closing her eyes. It was going to be a long flight from California to Italy. She had better get all the rest she could.
"We have to assume this is a trap," Mrs. Beakley said, scowling. "That even if Webbigail didn't intend for it to be, FOWL will have overheard her and plans on establishing a base of operations to thwart us if we attempt to take her back."
She scowled at the tracking device, which had registered their trip to Los Angeles before winking out. Webby must've destroyed it. She should have known it wouldn't be that easy. Webby hadn't survived being in FOWL for so long by letting obvious traps remain triggered. Still, she was a little disappointed. She had hoped, albeit foolishly, that Webby might want to be saved.
"So we shouldn't go?" Louie asked. He rubbed his stomach, which was sore after Webby had kicked him in the abdomen twice in twenty four hours.
"Oh, no, we're going," Mrs. Beakley answered. "But perhaps not all of us. And we're going to need firepower of our own."
"If it's all the same to you, I don't want to be a part of this," Louie said. "Adventuring is one thing and that's a hard pass for all the times I get hurt. But this is way too dangerous with no chance of reward. I'm out."
"I wasn't thinking of you," she said softly. "I was thinking of Dewey."
"You want Dewey to go?" Huey asked, skeptical. "He doesn't know how to fight and every time he's come up against her, she's gotten the better of him."
"She called him," Mrs. Beakley said. "She wanted to talk to him and she apologized to all three of you."
"Kinda weird for an enemy agent to apologize like that," Louie remarked, fussing with his cell phone. It was the latest Beaks' innovation, according to him. Bentina had no idea what that meant, exactly, and didn't care to find out.
"FOWL hasn't beaten her conscience out of her," Mrs. Beakley said.
"Wait, do you mean literally beaten?" Dewey asked, wincing.
"They had better hope not," she growled. "Because no force on Earth will keep me from hunting them down if they've touched a feather on her head."
"So, it's going to be me, you, and Uncle Scrooge?" Dewey asked.
"And a few agents from SHUSH," she said. "We're going to need the backup."
"I want to go too," Huey said and Louie scoffed, looking up.
"Why?" he asked.
"Because I got to her too," he said. "We all did. Whatever FOWL said to her can't hold up against logic."
"And yet, she went back to them anyway," Louie pointed out.
"Because she doesn't feel like she has a choice," Dewey argued.
Mrs. Beakley nodded, frowning. "I have some calls to make. In the meanwhile, if we can get anywhere near Webby, we need to figure out what to say to her that will have the maximum effect."