Twelve hours later, they'd landed. They used a rover to reach Glomgold's base and although Webby still felt off-kilter, she didn't say anything. Besides, the boys were talkative enough to compensate for her. For once, she was content to fade into the background. The tension and worry were too high for them to notice her quietness.
She knew she ought to be excited about this too. After all, it wasn't every day she happened upon making McDuck history. She wanted to be thrilled to bits and chattering along with the others, but it felt like a heavy weight had descended upon her and was dragging her down into the dark side of the moon. She stared out the window of the RV-like contraption to avoid looking at anyone else.
It took them another hour to reach Glomgold Industries' base and everyone climbed out, with Launchpad again warned against crashing their transportation and leaving them stranded. Scrooge didn't seem convinced by Launchpad's reassurances. Under the circumstances, Webby didn't blame him.
It resembled Scrooge's operations and looked identical, actually, which surprised her. Maybe Scottish billionaires/trillionaires thought alike. Workers ushered them into a private meeting room, where Glomgold was sitting behind a luxurious desk. Sitting directly in front of him was a figure out of legend. Webby's jaw dropped and she squeaked. The boys dove on their mother and knocked the chair over in the process.
Scrooge and Donald, however, remained standing, both looking suspicious. While the boys rambled excitedly, asking questions and demanding explanations, Scrooge approached the desk and his gaze was sharp, cutting. Donald was right behind him.
Feeling out of sorts, because this wasn't her mother, Webby stepped back. She was a member of the family, right? But this wasn't her family reunion. She understood why Lena had felt ostracized before.
"Why are you doing this, Glomgold?" Scrooge asked. "You're not known for doing things out of the goodness of your heart."
"I was excavating on the dark side of the moon and trying to set up signal towers when I ran into your niece," Glomgold said with a shrug. "Thought you might miss her."
"You 'thought I might miss her'?" Scrooge snapped. "It's been ten years. You mean to tell me you've known she was there all this time and didn't bother to inform me?"
His hand was tight on his cane and it creaked in protest.
"Webs," Louie called and Webby jerked her head toward the boys. They were gesturing for her to join them, and, feeling nonetheless like the odd duck out, she headed for them. The boys wrapped her in a hug that also included their mother.
"And this is our sister, Webby," Huey said.
"Sister?" Della repeated.
"I'm not actually related to them," Webby hastened to add. "I'm more like their honorary sister. So don't worry. You didn't have four children, just three boys."
Della still looked baffled.
"We'll explain the whole thing later," Huey promised. Webby glanced over at the two Scottish ducks, who were arguing loudly now and gesticulating with their canes. Donald was getting into the fray too, punctuating his retorts with punching his arm in the air and devolving into gibberish because he was so upset. Webby wasn't following half of what he was saying.
"I didn't know she was here for ten years!" Glomgold snapped. "Do you really think I'm that cruel, that I'd keep her from you for so long? I know you almost went bankrupt trying to find her. But this is the thanks I get for finding your niece?"
"How long have you known she was here?" Scrooge demanded, slamming his cane on the floor.
"I told you-I called you as soon as I knew," Glomgold retorted. Webby frowned. Glomgold was lying.
"You expect me to believe you just happened upon Della after you've spent all this time building this facility on the moon and you didn't discover her until three days ago?" he growled. "Something's not adding up."
"All right, so maybe I knew she was here for a bit longer than several days," Glomgold said. "But I had to think of my investments."
"How. Long. Did. You. Know." Scrooge bit off every word.
"Forget your investments!" Donald yelled. "What about my sister?"
"Donald, I'm okay," Della said. However, he and Uncle Scrooge were too fired up to pay her any mind. Della's arms tightened around her boys.
"I've known for six months," Glomgold admitted. "But I had a devil of a time getting any word back to you anyway. The signal kept vanishing and it was almost like someone was interfering with it. Don't go yellin' at me, Scrooge. I did my best. I don't owe you anything."
Scrooge, who had been frustrated over Webby's situation, Magica's attack, and the lack of sleep for the last fortnight, looked like he wanted to beat the crap out of his rival. His eyes flashed and he was visibly restraining his anger. He was so angry he was grinding his teeth and Della, the boys, and Webby all took a step back. Scrooge was intimidating them, except for maybe Donald. Glomgold faltered.
"It's nothing personal, Scroogie," he added, seeing the homicidal gleam in the other old man's gaze. "I just-"
"You just what? Thought you'd lord it over me?" Scrooge said dangerously.
"Uncle Scrooge, I'm sorry-" Della started and he raised his cane to silence her. The boys all frowned and Webby knew this wasn't going to be pretty. He hadn't had a chance to pay the Bloodhound Gang back and here, at last, was a target Scrooge could actually hit.
"I did no such thing!" Glomgold said. "I just had other priorities than tellin' you that your niece was here! You understand. You're a businessman."
"I would never put my business above my family," Scrooge snapped, his voice shaking. "Everyone, out. I don't want there to be any witnesses."
"Witnesses to what?" Glomgold said and, perhaps provoked too far, Scrooge punched him in the face. He dove on top of him and what followed involved them rolling around on the office floor while Donald herded everyone out of the office. He closed the door behind him and sighed.
"Wow, I don't think I've ever seen Uncle Scrooge so enraged," Huey said.
"It has been a bad month," Dewey pointed out. "I guess he finally snapped."
"Della…" Donald said softly and she turned to look at him. "What happened?"
Banging came from the door and they jumped, startled. Donald grabbed a chair from the receptionist (who looked nonplussed at having it yanked right from under her) and jammed it under the doorknob. Even through the thick wooden door, they could hear Scrooge railing at Glomgold. Webby winced. She would not want to be him right now.
"Are you sure it's a good idea to lock them in there?" Dewey asked.
"No, but it's better than being inside," Donald replied.
"The Spear got swept up in the cosmic storm. I wound up drifting for a while...for years, actually. I got supplies from the creatures that live here, but I've been stranded on the dark side of the moon for a long time," Della replied. "And Glomgold did find me six months ago; he wasn't lying about that. But I guess he forgot about me when he was building his real estate here."
"That's no excuse," Donald snapped and Della flinched. "I meant Glomgold. Not you."
"No, what I did has no excuse," she replied. "I left my babies behind. Have you…?"
She trailed off, uncertain how to put it.
"Yeah, I raised them," Donald remarked quietly. "That's what you would've wanted, isn't it?"
Della nodded, eyes full of tears, and hugged her brother tightly. The boys latched on to both of them and Webby stood apart, feeling awkward again. Part of her was incredulous to find Della Duck here, in the flesh. The other part, the larger part, was going numb. The boys had found their mother. Webby still didn't know what had happened to her parents.
"You're part of the family too, you know," Donald said to her. "We're all one big family."
"You never explained who she is," Della said, wiping at her eyes. Huey handed her a handkerchief and she dabbed at the tears.
"I'm Webby," Webby said, subdued. "My granny-" she choked up for a second-"was Uncle Scrooge's housekeeper until Magica killed her. Now I'm Uncle Scrooge's ward."
"Magica?" Della said sharply. "She returned?"
They nodded.
"It sounds like we have a lot to catch up on," Della said. "Maybe we should go somewhere?"
The banging continued behind them. Scrooge was still screaming at Glomgold, who was yelling back. Della glanced at Donald.
"Don't tell me," she said. "Please don't tell me this is going to end the way it always does."
"I don't wanna think about it," Donald said flatly. "I already thought about it on the way here and that was more time than I'd ever wanted to spend thinking about Uncle Scrooge in that way."
"How does it usually end?" Dewey asked, baffled.
"You don't want to know," Della and Donald replied in unison. They smiled at each other and Della ushered them into a private meeting room and closed the door. Once they were inside, the screams were considerably muffled and although Webby was as curious as the boys as to "how this normally ended", she didn't ask. She had a feeling that she too didn't want to know.
After being trailed, literally, by Magica for years, Lena le Strange/de Spell knew when she was being stalked. Gladstone seemed oblivious to their pursuer, but Lena was on guard. It conspired that the Bloodhound Gang did not want to be found. Or, rather, they wanted to be the ones doing the finding. Magica must've told them something about her niece to compel their interest; either that or they knew that she was linked to Webby, which marked Lena as a troublemaker.
Sometimes, the ties between them gave her whiplash. The Gang hated her because she was Webby's known accomplice. She was Webby's known accomplice because Aunt Magica had forced her to be. The Bloodhound Gang had only attacked Webby because Magica had killed Mrs. Beakley, which she wouldn't have been able to do if Lena had stayed away in the first place. In a way, Lena's new "friends" were the punishment she deserved for bringing this all crashing onto Webby's head. She didn't say that, though. Lately, whenever she'd vocalized such doubt or self-hatred, someone soundly rebuked her.
She tensed and then ducked as someone swung a bat at her head. Stumbling, she backed into Gladstone, who held up his hands in a disarming gesture.
"Hey, hey, we're all friends here," Gladstone said. "We're just looking for someone."
"Yes, us," came the reply as the three remaining Bloodhound Gang members slunk out of the shadows from a nearby bar. Was this luck? True, she'd wanted to find them, but she hadn't wanted the situation reversed. The Gang had the upperhand.
"At what point are you lucky?" Lena hissed at Gladstone. "Because this seems more like the opposite."
"You wanted to find them," he reminded her.
"But not the other way around!" she snapped. The three members had a gun and two knives between them. Lena was mildly pleased to see that the injuries Webby had inflicted on them hadn't healed. She was proud of her.
"We have a message for your little friend," one of the dogs said. He was the one Webby had marked with deep gouges down his face. Lena smiled. He hadn't been pretty to begin with, but he was markedly less attractive now.
"We have a message for you too," Gladstone said and she mentally facepalmed. She wasn't sure whether this was arrogance born of a lifetime of luck or just plain stupidity. Right now, she was thinking it was a combination of the two.
"Scrooge McDuck is coming after you," he said.
Why, exactly, did Gladstone think they cared about that? Scrooge wasn't in Duckberg at the moment and if even if he were, she doubted the threat would hold much sway with them.
"Please tell me you know how to fight," Lena said in an undertone. "Or have a back-up plan that doesn't involve name-dropping."
"Good," the scarred bulldog said. "Then he can watch when we kill his little niece."
One of the dogs holding a knife turned to regard Lena and she stiffened under their gaze. He was giving her an assessing look, like the one he'd given Webby, and she knew that they had a "type". Pre-pubescent and pubescent girls. Lovely. Lena's throat tightened.
She didn't feel particularly safe with Gladstone around, either. Luck had to run out sooner or later.
"You're Magica de Spell's niece, ain't you?" he said.
"Yeah, so?" she said, attempting nonchalance.
"Think she'd care if something happened to you?" he continued and Lena stopped herself before retreating another step. She didn't want to be seen giving ground to these assholes.
"That's out of line," Gladstone snapped.
The criminal flicked a gaze at him before returning to leer at Lena. Lena resisted the temptation to hug her shirt to her.
"No, not really," she answered. "She's not exactly thrilled with me right now."
The newfound leader, Mr. Scar she was calling him, smirked. "We'll keep that in mind, then."
Wow, the creeper vibes coming off these jerks was unreal. They hadn't touched her and yet, she felt like she'd been violated. It sickened her and made her even more fiercely protective over Webby.
"And what's that supposed to mean?" Gladstone snapped, putting a hand on Lena's shoulder. Lena resisted the temptation to shove him into the nearest dumpster. Aside from a few people, she did not like being touched. Webby and the boys were all right, Scrooge was a little iffy, but anyone else had better think twice about it.
"It means to watch your step, pretty boy," the leader sneered and they receded into the shadows from whence they'd come. Lena was surprised to find that Gladstone was staring at her curiously and with a touch of concern.
"Are you all right?" he asked.
"I've been worse," she said with a shrug. "Could you take your hand off me?"
"Sorry," he said.
"We didn't find their hideout," she said, annoyed. "But following them into the darkness is a good way to get attacked."
"But you know they hang out around here now," he pointed out. "That's enough for Scrooge, isn't it?"
"I guess…" she said. She'd had visions of apprehending the Gang before the others returned. Gladstone must've seen something of this on her face because he glowered and she took a step back. Despite her surliness with Mrs. Beakley, angry adults tended to set off alarm bells. It usually signified something unpleasant in the offing.
"You can't possibly apprehend them. That's a job for the police."
"I did fine without your help before," she snapped back. "I'll be fine now."
"Where are you living?"
"What does that have to do with anything?" she asked. If she'd been a dog, her hackles would've been up. She was feeling defensive as fuck and did not appreciate his tone. As far as she was concerned, the only one with any right to act paternal toward her was her father and he'd flown the coop years ago.
"If you don't have a place to stay…" he said.
"Sorry, I don't hang out with people who could be my father," she shot back. She half expected Magica to materialize then and torment her. "And I have a place. McDuck Manor. I don't need your pity."
"You're pretty prickly considering you asked me for help," he retorted. "I don't want you wandering around here with pedophiles."
He was worried. About her. He wasn't angry at her and about to hit her or verbally abuse her. He was genuinely concerned. Lena was at a loss. She didn't tend to think about her well-being; it became second-nature to care about her well-being only when it affected Magica. Now that she was on her own, she was concerned with Webby and helping her. She still didn't think she mattered.
"What does it matter to you?" she asked and her tone was uncertain.
"It matters to me because you're a kid and I'm trying to look out for you."
That didn't explain it, not in her mind. Unable to compose a decent reply, she changed the subject.
"We should be heading back. It's getting late."
"I'll drive you," he said and his gaze was stern. "You're not walking through these streets on your own."
Lena's mouth dropped and she closed it quickly. "Th-thanks."
"So, you're Magica de Spell's niece," he said as he walked her to his car. "How's she doing these days?"
"Evil. Bitchy. Defeated."
"I grew up with her," he said in an offhand tone. "She was trying to usurp my good luck once and fell for me. Can you believe that?"
"Not really," she said.
"It was a while ago," he assured her. "Before you were born."
"In the dinosaur ages," she muttered.
"I haven't heard from her in a while," he said.
"That's because she was my shadow for thirteen years and manipulated me into getting her body back a month ago," she answered.
"Oh. I see."
"Yeah. She's a manipulative bitch," she said and stared down at her lap as they sat down in the car. "Cruel and malicious. The whole nine yards."
"Did she...raise you?" he asked, confused. "You didn't mention your parents."
Lena laughed humorlessly. "If you can call it parenting."
Rather than look at Gladstone, she stared out the window. Their surroundings passed by in a blur and she'd tensed up. She kept expecting Magica to materialize as her shadow again and then soundly reprimand her for speaking ill of her. She'd probably follow it up with the verbal and emotional abuse that she was so fond of.
How the hell could Magica have had any softness, let alone enough to like someone romantically? It boggled Lena's mind.
They arrived at McDuck Manor and he handed her a business card.
"You're going to go after them," he said. "I know your type. Call me when you're going and I'll go with you."
"Why?" she said, tempted to crumple up the card.
"Call it part of the favor," he said. "And a way to make up for how Magica treated you."
"Whatever," she said, shrugging as she opened the door. She didn't know how to respond, again. The unexpected kindness was making her wonder where the catch was.
"There's no catch, Lena," he added. "But don't go after them without me, okay?"
Lena glanced down at the card and then up at him. Well, she could use the extra luck, she supposed.
"Okay," she said. It wasn't such a difficult thing to promise, after all. And if Gladstone was going to help her out, she'd figure out his angle while he was doing it. Everyone had an angle. No one did anything expecting nothing.
Except maybe Webby. Lena touched Webby's ribbon about her wrist as she made her way back up the road toward the Manor. She couldn't believe how much she missed the younger girl. Magica had been right. She'd fallen in love with her. She was fortunate that Webby wasn't the type to take advantage of it.