Notes:
I was going to post this tomorrow morning, as usual, but I decided that, because of the DuckTales news today, I'd post it early.
Two things: I had to get creative with '17 Magica, who is a bit...touchy when she's in pain. As in, she curses a blue streak and as tempting as it was, I could not have her tell her counterpart to do something rather rude. No matter how much I wanted her to.
Also, this chapter includes one of my favorite exchanges between '87 Webby and '17 Scrooge.
Chapter 9
"I can't believe Unca Scrooge left us without telling us if the mirror is fixed," Dewey huffed and the trio snuck into the archive room. They stared at the mirror, the surface of which was oscillating like a wormhole. Duckworth was waxing Scrooge's car and Mrs. Beakley was preparing lunch; Webby's disappearance had put her increasingly on edge and she was inclined to snap at them over little things. They supposed that the mirror must've been repaired because of how else could Unca Scrooge have vanished? The fact of the matter was that Unca Scrooge and Magica were gone, which meant they could do nothing until the mirror operated again.
"Man, I hate being sidelined," Huey complained.
"Do you think they're okay?" Louie asked anxiously. The mirror's ability to send people through was gone, but they could still see into the empty archive room on the other side. Whatever Magica had done had eradicated their reflections.
"Did Magica go through with Unca Scrooge?" Dewey asked, ignoring his brother's question.
The triplets exchanged unhappy glances. If she had, then things were worse than they'd feared. They'd learned the hard way not to play with the mirror, though. Whatever was going on would have to happen without them.
"Wonder what's going on over there, anyway?" Huey said. "And if they're okay."
"Come back safe, Unca Scrooge…" the triplets chorused and placed their palms, albeit gently, against the cool glass. "And you too, Webby…"
"Can't this thing fly any faster?" her Scrooge demanded. "Who knows what she's doing on Mount Vesuvius."
"It's flying as fast as we can safely, without Launchpad crashing into something," the other Scrooge remarked. Webby scrunched down in her seat. The triplets, the other Webby (Webby 1), Mrs. Beakley, and both Scrooges were in attendance. Her Uncle Scrooge was holding her in his lap, which she noticed the other Webby wasn't. Instead, the older girl paced about the ship and kept touching the friendship bracelet on her good arm. Her other arm was in a cast.
"It doesn't matter how fast or slow he flies," her Uncle Scrooge sniffed. "He'll crash without even trying. Least he's cheap."
"That's because no one else will hire him," the red Scrooge muttered.
"Webby, sit down," Huey wheedled. "We're not gonna get there any faster with you pacing."
"Webby, calm down," Dewey said, arm about her shoulders. "We'll get there and we'll kick Magica's butt again. There's nothing to worry about."
"The last time we encountered her, she destroyed Lena," Webby 1 said and her beak was tight, clamped back on tears. "What if she takes what's left? I haven't even had a chance to talk to her."
Guilt swamped Webby 2. Webby 1 might not have been able to talk to Lena, but she had. Hearing the message wasn't the same as talking to the messenger. Plus, Webby 1 was all worked up, not that she could blame her. She just wished she could hold it together so well under stress.
"I won't be trapped in the dime this time," the red Scrooge said. "You won't have to fight alone, Webby. And she was using the dime as a power source. She won't be able to this time."
"You're not still wearing it around your neck, are you?" Dewey asked in alarm.
"It's back in the money bin," he reassured him. "I didn't want to take the chance Magica would get her grimy paws on it."
"You did the same thing, didn't you, Uncle Scrooge?" Webby 2 asked and he cleared his throat, looking embarrassed.
"Well, I didn't expect Magica to betray me and I was wearing me lucky dime around my neck when I went after you…" He flushed.
"That's one prepared Scrooge and one who obviously wasn't thinking with the right part of his body," the red Scrooge snapped. "I don't know what kind of relationship you two have in your universe, but in this one, we do not consort with our enemies!"
"Wait, if you weren't thinking with your brain, then what part of your body were you thinking with?" Webby 2 asked innocently.
"Wouldn't we all like to know," the red Scrooge said darkly.
"O-kay...this is heading into weird territory," Huey said. He stared at the blue Scrooge. "You two aren't dating in your universe, are you?"
"Of course not!" her Scrooge said. "Why would I date her?"
"I have no idea," Huey admitted.
"Either I'm more gullible in the alternate universe or I have a soft spot for Magica there," the red Scrooge proclaimed. His eyes narrowed. "I don't know which one I dislike more."
Rather than respond, her Uncle Scrooge brooded, staring out the Sunchaser's window. He hugged her to him and, for the first time in her life, she felt like she was being treated like a little kid. Normally it didn't bother her. But none of the others were being coddled and the other Scrooge certainly didn't have Webby 1 on his lap.
"This is going to be a long and uncomfortable plane ride," Huey said.
"You said it," Dewey agreed.
"We always have the in-flight entertainment," Launchpad suggested.
"No Darkwing Duck!" Dewey and Louie complained.
"What's Darkwing Duck?" Webby wondered aloud and the two boys groaned.
"Don't get him started," Louie warned. "He'll go on and on about it. We'll never get any peace."
"Hey, in the alternate dimension, am I just as big a fan of Darkwing Duck as I am here?" Launchpad asked, ignoring that Webby didn't know who that was.
"I don't know…" Webby said softly. "You seem to spend a lot of time in St. Canard when you're not flying Uncle Scrooge and the boys around."
"Huh," Launchpad said and then shrugged, taking it in his stride. Uncle Scrooge groaned, dragging his hat over his face.
"So...are you both the same amount of rich?" Louie asked. "Or is one of you richer than the other?"
"That's a good question," the red Scrooge said. He'd settled in his chair and although he'd been giving his counterpart dagger eyes before, his gaze had turned contemplative and curious rather than hostile. "Just how much are you worth, other me?"
"Oh, about $65.4 billion, give or take a billion," Uncle Scrooge said.
"That's interesting. I'm worth three trillion," the red Scrooge boasted. "Of course, that might be accounting for inflation, too. Thirty years difference."
He wore a sly smile when he said this and her Scrooge bristled. Webby took it that even accounting for inflation, the other duck was wealthier. Louie beamed at his great-uncle.
"And all of that will be mine someday…" he said.
"That's what you think," the red Scrooge scoffed. "I don't plan on dying."
"Any time soon, you mean?" Webby 1 said.
"No. I don't plan on dying. Period."
"I'm not sure that's possible…" Huey said.
"Maybe for you it isn't," the red Scrooge answered.
"How do you intend to defeat death and become immortal?" Webby 1 mused, rubbing her friendship bracelet still. She glanced over her shoulder to see if her shadow had morphed into anything, but it hadn't. Her shoulders drooped.
"That's something we'd all very much like to know," Mrs. Beakley said. "Of course, if Mr. McDuck has the secret to immortality, then I doubt he'll be sharing it with the rest of us."
"Nope," the red Scrooge confirmed. "But it will sure give me a lot of time to enjoy that additional money that the other me doesn't have."
Uncle Scrooge stood up so quickly he dislodged Webby and dropped her on the floor.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, rubbing her sore bottom where she'd collided with the steel.
"Sorry, me darling Webbigail," he said and then rounded on the other Scrooge. "When we're done here, I want to see your bank records. Because I don't believe anyone has more money than me."
"Gladly," the red Scrooge said. "We'll sit here and count pennies if you're so inclined. And I can tell you all about how not to trust Magica."
"Guess he's not over that," Dewey commented.
"It was an honest mistake, just like when I accidentally sent all my fortune to the Beagle Boys using a spray Gyro invented," he retorted and the red Scrooge facepalmed so hard that it sounded like it hurt. Webby winced in sympathy, getting to her feet.
"I revise my opinion," the red Scrooge said. "You can't possibly be me, because I would never be that gullible in my life."
"He's not gullible," Webby protested, feeling compelled to defend him. "He's sweet and caring-"
"And cheap and apparently not going to let us enjoy his fortune-" Louie said and the red Scrooge glowered at him. He shut up.
"Just saying," Louie finished, albeit meekly.
"I didn't want me fortune to vanish-" Uncle Scrooge snapped.
"Up until it did," the red Scrooge finished for him.
"Uh, are you sure you don't want me to put on Darkwing? Because things are getting a little intense in here," Launchpad said. "I find Darkwing Duck tends to defuse the situation."
"Fine, put it on," the red Scrooge said, muttering about incompetence and how he couldn't believe that the other Scrooge had any money at all, given how naive he was.
The rest of the trip was uncomfortable, much as the triplets had predicted. Although Webby 2 tried to enjoy Darkwing Duck, she couldn't ignore the glares the two Scrooges shot each other's way. Webby 1 was still fingering her bracelet and Dewey sat beside her and murmured to her out of Webby's earshot. Huey was pulling something out of the Junior Woodchuck Guidebook about summoning ghosts, which wasn't exactly accurate, but he was still trying to help. Louie was half-asleep, doing his utmost to ignore Darkwing Duck.
"Are you okay, Uncle Scrooge?" Webby murmured.
"Aye, I'm just glad you're all right," he said and hugged her. "The boys wanted me to tell you that they're very sorry."
"They should be!" she huffed. "They always treat me like a baby!"
"I need to have another talk with them," he said. "I don't know where they got their opinions, but it's got to stop."
"Were they really worried?" Webby asked, earnest.
"Of course they were, Webby me darling. We all were. We love you and we want you to be safe," he said.
"But this universe is so cool!" Webby burst out, unable to contain herself. "The other me can do all sorts of things that I can't. She can fight people off and she has a living shadow and her granny was a spy and the boys here are much nicer and they don't treat me like I'm a third wheel or like I don't belong."
"Living shadow?" Scrooge repeated, baffled. He glanced at Webby 1, whose gaze remained downcast and whose attention was held by Dewey almost exclusively.
"She said her name was Lena," she added and the other Scrooge, who must've been listening in or at least overheard them, started.
"Lena?" he repeated and Webby nodded.
"No wonder she's so upset…" he said.
"I wish I could do all the cool things that the other Webby can do," Webby said. "I wanna be able to protect myself and beat people up and not be afraid of anything."
"You know, that might not be a bad idea if you enrolled her in a self-defense class," the other Scrooge said. "Could give the lass some confidence."
"And maybe I can go on more adventures with you, Uncle Scrooge? Just like the boys?" she asked.
"Aye, but maybe you could stop sneaking along and announce when you're coming. And if I'm not letting the boys along, then you're not coming either. Understand, lass?"
Webby nodded. "You'll make me more equal? Like one of the boys?"
Her Scrooge nodded. "I'll do what I can to try to make our universe more welcoming and more exciting, but don't go wandering off again like that. You scared us half to death."
"I won't," she promised and hugged him tightly. He hugged her back.
She felt safe and secure and also thrilled. When she was with Uncle Scrooge, he could protect her, even if it was against Magica. Besides, she had no idea how bad the Magica in this universe really was. No one had given her more than scant details.
Magica de Spell was infuriated and in a great deal of pain. After her humiliating defeat at the hands of Scrooge and the brats, she'd limped her way back home to Mount Vesuvius, her lair but also the site of her last greatest defeat. She'd found her broom where she'd stashed it on the outskirts of Duckberg, but flying with bruised or broken ribs was not fun. Every time she squeezed the broom's handle to change direction or adjust her speed, it sent corresponding waves of pain through her.
Webby. Yes, Magica knew her name now. If she hadn't before, she sure did now. Webby had beaten the living crap out of her, along with Scrooge. She hissed from between gritted teeth. If she had her power, she could've healed herself. Instead, she whimpered as she crawled into bed. The last time she'd been so soundly defeated, at least she hadn't been in agony.
Then again, she'd been trapped inside of a dime on Scrooge's chest for fifteen years and then tied to a thirteen-year-old girl who listened to emo for about half of that time. There were tortures worse than the physical. She spread herself out on the bed and tried to find the least uncomfortable position. Poe wasn't here-she didn't remember where she'd sent him fifteen years ago, but clearly, he hadn't felt the need to linger.
If she'd had any juice left, she would've summoned him to tend to her. Releasing a stream of profanities, she punched the air and then howled. This prompted further obscenities. She cursed Scrooge, Webby, and Lena in that order. A shadow with a name and a personality. How dare she. How dare she usurp Magica.
She hadn't destroyed her when Magica had fled, either. Magica knew the remnants of her magic...and Lena wasn't among them. That meant either Lena had faded away from her magical wound or that she'd disappeared to bide her time, probably with Webby. She wanted to wring Webby's neck.
But first, she wanted someone to coddle her and nurse her wounds. She sighed. At some point during the battle, she thought she'd become aware of Gladstone, but she hadn't been focusing on that at that time. She'd been more focused on irritating Scrooge and then fighting off his whelps.
She probably couldn't expect any help from that quarter, anyway. If Gladstone wasn't in Duckberg, he certainly wouldn't be on Mount Vesuvius. She was on her own.
As weak as she was, she could detect foreign magic. She bolted upright; there was an intruder in her lair. Of course, the rapid movement triggered another spasm of pain from her ribs and she cursed. Loudly. Maybe her dirty mouth would be enough to convince whoever it was that this place was inhabited and the occupant was in a foul mood.
The magical sense grew closer and stronger, not weaker and further away. What the actual f. Why couldn't her intruder take a hint and leave? She pushed herself to a standing position and the pain was so intense she blacked out for a few seconds.
When she recovered her wits, she discovered a black-haired sorceress staring back at her. There was something unutterably familiar about her and her magic made Magica's skin tingle.
"And who might you be?" she asked, trying to play off like she wasn't in agony and she had some control over the situation. This unfamiliar sorceress could probably break her in half over her knee with the way she felt now. Again, she cursed Webby, Scrooge, and the whelps, but especially Lena. Traitor.
"Scroogie wasn't exaggerating," she remarked. "You look dreadful."
"You know just how to talk to a woman, don't you?" Magica grumped.
"It's a good thing I'm here, then," the other answered in a brisk tone. "You may not have magic, but I do."
"That's all well and good," Magica hissed. "But who are you?"
"Magica de Spell...I'm you. From an alternate dimension."
"You're not me," she hissed, eyes flashing. "You can't be. I wouldn't dress...so...like that."
"What's wrong with how I dress? Who walks around without shoes?"
"Someone who just had her head handed to her by a bunch of children!" Magica snarled. "Now, if you don't mind, I am going to nurse my wounds and I'd like to do so in peace!"
"I think I can help you if you'd like…" the other sorceress said. "But, of course, there are strings attached."
Magica told her in no uncertain terms where she could shove her proposal. She wasn't convinced that the other woman was her from an alternate dimension and she couldn't risk revealing any further vulnerability. The other woman smirked and then, waving her staff, feinted at her chest. Magica rolled to get out of the way and an explosion of agony was her reward. She skidded on the floor and screamed every curse word she knew, in multiple languages. Tears streaked her cheeks from the pain; Webby must've broken more than one rib. She was going to kill her.
"My offer doesn't look so bad now, does it?" the other woman cajoled.
"You have no idea how much I loathe you," she growled, having to force each word out through gritted teeth.
"Hmm, self-hate," she mused. "I suppose I can work with that. But you need your powers back...and healing. Plus, I haven't heard you say 'yes' to my proposal."
"Yes, fine, whatever, just fix this," Magica groaned. She flinched when the other woman raised her staff, but it was only to spread a healing spell over her body. It felt like sinking into a warm, soft bed after a hard, cold night. It was like a greeting from a loved one who had been gone for far too long, assuming Magica had ever experienced the latter. It was, in short, one of the best things she'd ever experienced and she luxuriated in it.
"Now that I have your attention," the other woman said. "And you're not in too much pain to think, I have a proposal for you. Scrooge McDuck, both Scrooges, is headed here, one of whom is carrying his number one dime. The brats, including my Webby and yours, are also headed this way. I assume you are interested in revenge."
(To be honest, the first thought wasn't revenge. It was licking her wounds and lying low for a while until her bruised ego recovered).
"What did you have in mind?" Magica said, grateful to be able to breathe without feeling like someone was using a sandwich press on her chest. She'd never had a broken rib before and she hoped never to have another.
"Come, let us discuss this. I believe we have a lot in common, you and I."
