Notes:
Sorry for not updating in a timely fashion. Things are rather unsettled at home and I'm having a bad confidence attack, in that I have no confidence in my writing now.
I'll be updating once a week from now on. Sorry. (So next update should be the premiere of season two).
One day ago, back in Duckberg...
Gladstone's ability to talk himself out of anything had finally met its match. It appeared that the nascent Bloodhound Gang leader was immune to his charms. Lena stifled a groan; how had it gotten so bad so quickly? The worst that she thought could've happened would be that the Gang would become thoroughly sick of them and end up tossing them aside. Now the leader, who was tossing a knife back and forth, had both of them tied up and eying them, particularly her, with avarice and hunger.
No matter how little self-worth she felt she had or how much she hated herself, Lena did not want to end up being this asshole's "treat". She could try smooth-talking her way out of this, but if Gladstone's charm and charisma had no effect, what chance did she have? Webby would've had them out of here by now. No one was carrying a gun at the moment and Lena knew Webby could defend herself against blades. Perhaps her grandmother hadn't gotten around to teaching her how to defend herself against guns. Now she never would.
There was a silver lining in this increasingly gray cloud. No one had bothered to search her or Gladstone for weapons. She doubted Gladstone had any, save his luck. Lena hadn't been that arrogant. She'd stashed the knife Scrooge had given her, along with the button to summon Gizmoduck, in her shirt. The Bloodhound Gang would probably find it if they really wanted to make her squirm, but they hadn't looked yet. All she needed to do was get an arm free to grab either the blade or call Gizmoduck. Since the latter was secured to her waist, she'd have a better chance if she could just bump her hip against the ground. Of course, she'd have to do it in a way that didn't look suspicious. Her luck wasn't too stellar right now either.
"Come on, we're all friends here," Gladstone called. Lena rolled her eyes and then, slowly, shifted her weight. They were tussled up on the ground and she just needed an extra few inches to hit the button.
Ugh, she hated relying on someone else, especially since her first choice hadn't panned out too well. She glowered at the older male duck, who continued spouting off some stupid promises about how he'd repay them if they just let him go. The leader, still passing the knife from hand to hand, approached him. Lena held her breath. If he looked six inches to his right, he'd see her rocking back and forth. She prayed he didn't look.
"We're not friends," the leader, Mr. Scar, snarled. "But I am interested in this deal you were talking about."
Keep talking, keep talking...keep him busy…
The other two members were keeping the lookout. They paced in opposite directions and paid the captives no mind at all. She wasn't concerned with them. Another inch more and...she felt the cement rub against the button and her ropes.
Yes!
"What are you doing?" Mr. Scar said and Lena forced a bright, big smile.
"Uh, scratching an itch?" she replied innocently. In response, he heaved her to her feet and began brusquely patting her down. His hands lingered on her thighs and she ground her teeth. To pat her down, he had to loosen her bindings and she took advantage of that to kick him in the groin. Considering what they'd had planned for her and earlier for Webby, she thought it was the least she could do.
Fucking creeper, she thought.
"Hey!" Gladstone said. "Didn't anyone ever teach you how to treat a lady?"
"Little late," she muttered. The other two members, hearing Mr. Scar's yelp, rushed to her. Lena sidestepped; her legs were free now, but her arms remained trapped. She had no idea how far away Gizmoduck might be or whether he'd answer the distress signal. Assuming he would answer, she had to play for time.
They were thugs and they weren't liable to withstand Gizmoduck's upcoming assault. That was the good news. The bad news...everything else.
Without Webby, she couldn't trip anyone up. Moreover, she didn't have that strange shared battle mentality with Gladstone. He also wasn't free from the waist down; the gang had chosen to leave her ties loose around her legs so they had access. And that was a whole can of worms Lena did not want to consider.
The two lookouts grabbed her by the arms, as they saw her as the most prominent threat. Either that or Gladstone's luck meant they were underestimating him. Their grip hurt and she struggled, wishing she had Webby's gift of flipping them over her shoulder or whatever her power moves were. A blow to the head put an end to that wishful thinking. Lena's head spun and she caught herself reaching for the amulet she no longer possessed.
Magica would probably have said she deserved it for putting herself in danger for Webby. She wouldn't have lifted a finger to help, not unless it benefited her. Lena groaned. There had to be a way out of this.
"Where's the little bitch?" Mr. Scar said. He had worn a faintly amused look before, now he glared hatefully at her. She glared back. She hoped his groin ached like a motherfucker.
"Not here," Lena snapped back. "Not anywhere in Duckburg or anywhere your grubby little hands can reach."
She took exception to them denigrating Webby like that, but now was not the time to berate them for it. They had the upper hand, after all. Her beak formed into a snarl. Webby was worth ten, no, a hundred of these creeps.
"We should teach the bitch a lesson, starting with you," Mr. Scar snapped. Lena went cold and swung back and forth again despite the pounding in her head. She was attempting to free herself and was having no success.
"Should we have our fun first?" one of the lookouts, whose voice was rather squeaky and who Lena was now dubbing "Mr. Squeakers", asked.
"No," Mr. Scar decided. "We'll use them as hostages. They're more valuable to McDuck and that little bitch if they're uninjured...for the time being."
Damn it, of all the times for people to be learning lessons from her aunt about holding people hostage. Lena glanced over at Gladstone. He was lucky; he should have a sixth sense of what they ought to plan. Didn't he have any inkling of it?
"You know, I didn't do anything to you," Gladstone said. "You ought to let me go."
"Really?!" Lena cried, outraged. She received a cuff on the back of the head that left her whimpering. It looked like her first impression of him was right. She should've known better than to trust someone who wasn't working a visible angle. She cursed him soundly in her head.
Then he winked at her. He was playing an angle, just one she couldn't fathom. Disconcerted, she glanced at her captors. Gizmoduck was nowhere on the horizon and Gladstone had thrown her to the proverbial wolves. Whatever he had planned must've required agency on his part.
Did he think he was going to call the cops? They weren't that stupid. They weren't going to let him go on a technicality.
To her consternation, they appeared to be considering it. The two lookouts were getting handsy with her and she wriggled, unable to have the range of motion she might've otherwise had without the blows to the head. Webby had mentioned that they had liked to smack her around too. Lena tasted blood; she'd bitten her tongue and she spat at her captors' feet.
"Think he'll rat us out?" Mr. Squeakers asked. He shook Lena again for good measure and her teeth chattered. Her head swam and one of the assholes had his hand between her leg and her stomach and inching inward.
"Let me go, you asshole!" she snapped. "I'm Magica's niece, damn it!"
"So...curse us," Mr. Scar said, turning to face her. With the three intent on her, no one was watching Gladstone. Was she a diversionary tactic? Or had she complicated matters further without thinking about it? She just wanted him to stop feeling her up, goddamn it.
"Cute little tail you got there," Mr. Squeakers said and tugged on it. Lena growled, kicking back and hitting him in the kneecap. Something gave beneath her sneaker with a crunch. Mr. Squeakers buckled, taking her with him. They landed hard on the ground and he broke her fall. He released her to cradle his shattered kneecap and she rolled away, but not too far. The other stooge had his hand on her and yanked her back up.
And where had Mr. Scar's knife gone? He'd been playing with it and then it'd vanished. The Bloodhound Gang didn't strike her as particularly competent or intelligent; either that or they were unlucky compared to Gladstone Gander.
"Let the girl go," Gladstone snapped, pressing the missing knife to Mr. Scar's neck. "Let her go or-"
"You don't have the guts," Mr. Scar said. "You're too good."
Oh, Gladstone might've been, but Lena was not. Just give her the knife and she'd slash her way to freedom.
"Am I?" he asked and blood pooled on the knife. Don't call his bluff. Don't call his bluff…
"All right. You can go," Mr. Scar snapped. "But the girl stays. She's a message to that little bitch, Webbigail Vanderquack."
"If you think I'm going to leave a vulnerable girl in your charge, you're sadly mistaken," Gladstone said and Lena suppressed a groan. He was not helping his case.
"I didn't say you had a choice," Mr. Scar said. "Oh, wait, you do. Either you let us take this bitch as bait and we let you go, as long as you don't call the cops. Or you keep up this protest and we take both of you to lure her out. One way or another, though, we're keeping her."
Another blow to the head eliminated any possible thought of fighting off the remaining gang member. Lena's vision faded in and out, as did her hearing. She did not like that they knew Webby's full name. More than likely, they also knew where she lived. Fuck, fuck, fuck. From bad to worse.
"What's this?" Mr. Gruff said (they needed nicknames, after all). He slid his hand along her waist and removed the signaling device for Gizmoduck.
"The little bitch was wearing a wire?" Mr. Scar snarled.
Where the hell was Gizmoduck? What was taking him so long?
"Yeah, we'll be taking her now," Mr. Gruff snapped. He swung Lena around and over his shoulder like a sack of grain. Her vision and hearing faded out again and she felt herself slipping into unconsciousness. If Gizmoduck was coming, he was going to be too late.
Present time, Duckberg
Gladstone cursed when he saw that they had missed messages at McDuck Manor. Lena hadn't told him that they'd be calling to check up on her. It was too late to call them back-the line didn't go through. Then again, he hadn't spoken to Lena in a day. How was he supposed to know that they had wanted to speak with her?
Gizmoduck and the cops had arrived only to discover that the Bloodhound Gang had adopted another measure from Magica de Spell-her smoke bombs. They'd gotten away with Lena and he was anxious, worried about her and worried about what they had in mind for Webby and the Duck family. He'd thought they'd be able to put this matter to rest before the clan returned to Earth with Della. That was looking less and less likely.
But he still had three days. And he'd been lucky in that they hadn't come after him when he'd fled and brought the law down on them. His luck had held out indefinitely before. It could do so again.
Lena didn't have any luck. He needed to get to her and fast. Those lecherous bastards would have had her for a day now...and he doubted they could refrain from abusing her in that time. If only she'd inherited some magic from Magica. Or had she? He didn't know. For her sake, he hoped so.
This time, when he went after the Bloodhound Gang, he'd have to bring Gizmoduck and the cops along. It was the only way to rescue her.
Lena awoke with a nasty taste in her mouth. Bleary-eyed, she blinked and then hissed at the pain in her wrists and arms. It felt like she was dangling from the ceiling. Once her eyes opened fully and she processed what was going on, she realized that was the case. Gladstone was nowhere to be seen, had probably ditched her, and she was hanging from the ceiling like tenderized meat. She wasn't sure how long she'd been unconscious for and she sagged to her knees. It felt like her arms were going to pop out of their sockets.
"Oh, look, she's up," Mr. Gruff said and nudged her with his boot. Lena glanced around; they were in an underground cavern and the three Bloodhound Gang members had set up cots and chairs. The remnants of breakfast were on a table nearby. Lena's stomach rumbled and she jerked unconsciously forward, causing a sharp pain to course up and down her arms.
"I told you she'd wake up eventually," Magica hissed and Lena froze. Her aunt was sitting on one of the chairs and flipping through a grimoire. Lena pushed herself to her feet, but with the way the chains dangled, it was impossible to stand upright. Something told her that Magica had conceived of it.
"Hello, dear. Miss me?" Magica said. "Little traitor."
"I didn't think you'd work with them again," Lena said from between gritted teeth. "Considering how they abandoned you."
"Oh, I didn't think so either," she said, moving toward her niece and using her staff to prop Lena's chin up. "And then they told me they had you and were using you as bait to lure out Webster. I thought, what an opportunity. Even if I don't stay for them to kill her, I can certainly stay to watch you suffer. I even brought popcorn."
"Didn't you learn your lesson the last time?" Lena snapped. Magica shrugged, knocking Lena's legs out from under her. Lena felt something pop and screamed. Feeling sick, she twisted her neck and her arms were hanging out of their sockets in an unnatural angle.
"Didn't you?" Magica cooed. "I'd love to stay and chat, but since I have no intention of being caught unawares by the brats again, I'll just watch from a safe distance. I only came because I wanted to see you."
She pushed Lena's head back an uncomfortable angle, one that brought tears to her eyes. "And to remind you of the consequences of betraying me."
Lena gasped, her arms grinding in their sockets. The pain was excruciating and her beak trembled. Magica watched her with a malicious grin.
"I know you're wondering whether it'd be better to kill you and leave your body for her to find," Magica said. "But this is better. That way, you suffer until your beloved Wendy shows up. Oh, won't she be surprised to find out that you tried to defeat the Gang for her and wound up captured instead."
She poked at Lena. "You're awfully quiet. Don't you have anything to say while I gloat?"
Lena was focusing on staying conscious and attempting to no avail to ignore the agony from her dislocated arms. Magica snorted, kicking at her knees and causing her to lose her precarious balance. It yanked on the chains, causing her to fall back on them and drag her down, and Lena screamed again, tears burning the corners of her eyes. Gladstone thought Magica had light in her. Gladstone didn't know shit.
"That's better," Magica said. "When are the brats supposed to be back, anyway? Oh, don't give me that look. I knew when she didn't come running that they weren't in town."
"I'm...not...telling you...anything…" Lena panted.
"I could torture you all day," Magica said. She glanced back at the Bloodhound Gang. "Unless you three have any objections?"
"Nope, go right ahead," Mr. Scar said. Mr. Squeakers was lying on a cot and appeared unconsciously, probably the result of a heavy sedative. His knee had swollen to twice its normal size.
"Gladstone said...there was good in you…" Lena panted. "I don't...see it."
Magica froze, her staff elongating Lena's chains so Lena could stand with slack in the restraints. She gasped for breath and Magica inspected her.
"You spoke to Gladstone, did you?" she asked in a would-be casual voice.
"What does it matter?" Lena huffed. "You don't care about him."
She swayed on her feet. Her vision was fading in and out. Magica steadied her with a hand on her shoulder and squeezed, causing her to black out for a few minutes from the pain. When she came to, she was whimpering and, after a final hard squeeze that made Lena see stars, Magica released her.
"You aren't lying," Magica said quietly. "How is he?"
What the hell was this? "Ask him yourself."
"Where is he?" she demanded.
"McDuck Manor…" Lena groaned. Had Gladstone been telling the truth? Did Magica actually care about someone other than herself?
"Release her," Magica said. Lena collapsed to her knees again, this time in shock. "Give her something to eat. Don't touch her. But keep an eye on her. I'll be back."
Then, releasing a smoke bomb, she disappeared.
Mr. Scar, giving Lena a look of utmost loathing, unlocked her manacles. Lena collapsed to the floor in a heap and gasped, her vision fading in and out again. This was quite possibly the worst pain she'd ever experienced in her life and she found herself questioning her life's decisions that had led up to this point.
"What the hell is the point of kidnapping her if we can't have any fun?" Mr. Gruff huffed. "I mean, look at her. She's ripe for the taking."
Lena spat at their feet. With both arms dislocated, she couldn't push herself to her feet. Groaning, she collapsed onto her back and stared up at the stone ceiling. She'd gone to help Webby and made matters so much worse.
"You heard Magica," Mr. Scar snapped. "Besides, if she's anything like the little bitch who did this to me, she probably has something up her sleeve."
She really didn't, but it didn't hurt for them to think so.
Ugh, I'm so sorry, Webby…
And now she was probably worried sick about her to boot. On top of feeling like crap physically, she matched it mentally too. The only reason she wasn't still dangling from the ceiling was that her aunt had a soft spot for Webby's grandmother's employer's nephew. Magica was right about one thing-Scrooge did have a confusing family structure.
She had one slim hope. Magica seemed to have a weak spot for Gladstone. Maybe Gladstone would be able to convince her this wasn't worth it. Of course, that assumed Gladstone cared enough about Lena to put in the effort. Lena groaned. Yeah, probably not.
She was screwed.