ATTN: Chapter 4 has been revised as of October 25, 2009. But only in the middle, when Bigtime and Bonnie are having their little heart to heart about Ma. Changes were made to fit the plot. They're not major but just thought I'd let you know. Thank you.

(Unless you've already read it then never mind. Carry on.)

Note: In no way am I planning to use this fan fiction as a means of profit, because not only is it SO TOTALLY illegal, but I'd be going against my own morals, and I would never, EVER consider selling my work for money…or would I?

Hmm…

Okay so here's the thing; I know it's taken me a gazillion days to update this story, but things have been so busy I really don't even know where to start. But let's just say that I've been visiting a little country called Iraq for a little while…Plus I've had horrible writer's block.

So, after many nights of yelling at my computer for not typing it all for me, I'm finally on the right track to a pretty interesting plot. Now everyone cross their fingers with me…come on, there ya go…and let's pray to whatever god it is that inspires fan fictional writing to keep me working on this story!

Cross your fingers!

Do it!

Let's see now, where were we…Oh yeah!

Beagle Without a Mask

Chapter 9

Glomgold's Discovery...

'But Mama,' the little girl fussed. 'I don't wanna talk to the scary man.'

'Oh, Bonnie, hush.' Ma beagle continued straightening the young girls dress, as well as fixing her hair up, every now and then glancing around the corner of the building to see if anyone is around. 'Besides, he only looks scary because it's dark outside, that's all. Cops are nothing to be afraid of.'

'But why do I have to do it?'

'Well, because,' she explains in a consoling voice. 'The authorities have a real soft spot for kids, especially little girls who've lost their way.' Her mother smiles at her, but there was always something about it that didn't seem real whenever she did. As though it were forced. 'All you have to do is walk out there, pretend to cry and when those two guards come up to you and ask where your parents are, you say…?'

Little Bon Bon sniffed, going off of memory from earlier that night. 'I'm lost. Can you help me find my family, please, Mr. Policeman, Sir? I'm cold and hungry and tired and scared and-' Her mother stops her.

'Alright, I think you get the idea. Just make sure you keep their attention away from that main gate around the corner there so yer brothers can sneak out and be home for dinner tonight.' She grinned, holding the girls small arms. 'Doesn't that sound nice, Sweetheart? The whole family, together again?'

Her blue eyes widen. 'But, what if they catch me? Won't I have to go live behind the big wall, too?' She begins to tear up slightly, glancing up and over the large stoned wall, seeing the top of the penitentiary through barbed wire. Searchlights scanning the surroundings below. 'That place looks scary, Mama.'

Ma Beagle looks on at her for a moment, watching her stare up at the lights. She then places a gentle hand under her small chin, guiding her eyes to look into hers. She sighs, lowering her voice almost to a whisper. 'Darlin'…I'm gonna tell you something that I've never been able to tell any of your brothers…not even Bigtime.'

She pulls the girl towards her, embracing her tightly. 'Yer not meant for prison life, Sweety. Not because yer an innocent, but because there's something about you that…your brothers just don't have.'

'Huh?' Bonnie asks, not hugging back.

She pulls away, the child noticing tears forming in her mother's aging eyes. 'Heart,' she prods her gently in the chest. 'You've got heart, kid. And as long as you've got that…they'll never be able to catch you and put you in a place like this.' She nods toward the stone wall. 'I just know it.'

Bonnie raises her small eyebrows, sniffing again. 'But, how's that supposed to keep me outta jail, Mama? Please tell me. I'm scared.'

'Oh, you don't have to be afraid Bon Bon.' She wipes the girl's tears away. 'If you're anything like your Daddy, you'll be just fine…I'm willing to stake my life on that.' She almost laughs. 'Your brothers? They don't think as clearly as he did about, well, everything! But you. You will. It's something that usually skips a generation, or so. But not you. And that's gonna get you through impossible odds. Trust me on that, Kiddo.'

'But Mama-' she began to protest, but was hushed before she could.

Ma Beagle nods once, whispering. 'One day, you'll understand, Bonnie Beagle…one day, you'll know who you are…who yer meant to be."


Bonnie's eyes flutter open, watching the trees wiz by out the window. She'd been trying to take a quick nap before they arrived at her childhood home, but Bouncer had driven over a pothole, jerking her back into consciousness, waking her from the distant memory, which seemed to be occupying her dreams more and more frequently.

She glanced around the car's interior. The worn, musty station wagon seats were filled up with the all too familiar Beagle Brothers, as well as Jennifer, who stuck out like a sore thumb among the large goons.

It reminded her of Snow White and the seven dwarves. A lovely princess among peasants. And not just any peasants, but estranged creatures, unable to function in what's considered to be normal society.

Although there were only four of them present, officially there were seven brothers in all. The rest being "cousins". She'd considered asking her mother about how it is they'd managed to become such an over sized family, but knew there was no definite answer. Not even Ma Beagle herself truly knew that one. So rather than question her family's complex and peculiar origins, she stays quiet, deciding it's best to keep her individual curiosity at bay, preferring to be left in the dark.

She turns her attention toward the tree line. As far as she was concerned, the less she knew about how her dysfunctional family got its criminalizing start, the better off she was in life.

It wasn't as though she could benefit from what was already too late to change: The Beagle Boys were law-breakers…she wasn't, and that's how she liked it…and they knew it.

Bonnie suddenly feels weight on her left arm. She looks down to see that Bigtime had dozed off as well, drooping sideways until she supported him. She gave a small smile, glad he'd finally had a chance to get some sleep, knowing that he'd stayed up the night before talking with a certain roommate of hers.

Bonnie watches the trees zipping by again, her mind wandering, thinking about the plans she'd made for next week. She still couldn't believe that Officer Jack Russell had asked her out on a date. And not just any date, but a charity ball…at Scrooge McDuck's money bin.

She'd remembered reading about it in the paper the other day, but hadn't put two and two together when Jack had asked her. This was a problem, for several reasons. Fortunately, there was a very good chance that McDuck had no clue she even existed. This wasn't what worried her.

Bonnie was a Beagle, and it was common knowledge that if one Beagle was found hanging around the oversized piggy bank then more were sure to follow. She wasn't sure how understanding the boys would be to hear that she'd been given the perfect opportunity at Scrooge's fortune and hadn't even mentioned it to her own family.

How understanding the billionaire duck himself would be at learning her last name, during a major social event, wasn't exactly comforting, either.

Bonnie rubbed the sleep from her eyes, suppressing a yawn. The past few months she'd failed to get any sleep, which was a mystery since she went to bed every night with time for at least 8 hours of shuteye. The strange part was, she couldn't remember actually waking up. She'd went to sleep, then woke up in the morning. That was it.

Maybe this won't be so bad, going home…It'll be good to sleep in my old bed again.

She leans her head back, closing her eyes. The least she could do was bring up the whole Jack ordeal to Bigtime in private. She owed him that much…if not more.

At feeling movement on her left side, Bonnie opens one eye, smirking as Bigtime had adjusted his sleeping position, his head now resting on Jennifer's right arm.

This is definitely gonna be a long weekend. Interesting…but long.

"Blasted piece a' junk!" Glomgold shouts. "Hurry up, will ya? I haven't got all day!"

Glomgold slams his fist down onto his desk again, aggravated at the laptop he'd recently invested in. Being cheap always had its disadvantages, such as choosing the lower priced computer over the updated model for a few dollars less. But technology had never been one of his strong suits.

After his conversation with the thick-headed Beagle Boy who called himself Bankjob, and not having anything more important to do, he felt a sudden curiosity, something never occurring to the old duck; exactly how many Beagle Boys were there?

It wasn't really an important issue, just something that he'd never thought to look into. For instance, if there was someone as deviously clever as Ma Beagle, then perhaps someone else in that oversized family was just as cunning… maybe even cheaper to higher.

He raps his fingers impatiently as the site loads. The only reason for being impatient wasn't because his internet connection was running any slower, in fact it was working perfectly. He'd happened upon a file in the Duckburg database, an endless supply of information about most every citizen within the city limits, living or deceased. He'd figured it was the second best place to start, seeing as how he didn't have access to the local police database, otherwise he'd be up to his beak in files containing every dangerous, ruthless criminal who'd so much as sneezed in Duckburg without covering their mouth.

It was information about the Beagle family. He'd finally decided to give up searching for any of the Beagle cousins, knowing the only intelligent one out of them was Megabyte Beagle, further reading only leading him to discover he was more of a computer nerd than an actual villain.

But unlike any of the other articles, biographies and various information he'd found, something had grabbed his attention. He'd eventually found a section dedicated to Ma Beagle. This wasn't what interested him, though. It was a picture that someone had somehow gotten their hands on and managed to post on the site; a family portrait, with a caption below it reading "Bettina 'Ma' Beagle pictured with direct descendants only."

He had studied the photograph briefly, recognizing a few of them right off the bat, but the others he was oblivious to. They all stood in the background behind their mother, who'd placed herself center. There were eight Beagle Boys present. But then, for a split second, before he'd clicked on a link near the bottom of the page, hoping to find more on another site, he'd noticed something unusual about the photo. He'd looked at the screen long and hard before his eyes widened; There weren't eight Beagle Boys, but seven…and one child.

Glomgold had been trying to upload a portion of the picture, now attempting to enlarge it. After what feels like an eternity of clicks and whirs coming from the bargain laptop, he'd achieved just that, and was now staring into a pair of big blue eyes belonging to what he thought was just a young boy, standing beside Ma Beagle, almost shying away from the camera behind her.

He scratched under his beak. "Well would ya look at that, now," he muttered to his vacant office. "That's no wee lad…"

He enlarges it one more time, getting a closer look at the young child's face. The features are clear as day through the pixilated image, as there's no signature black burglar mask to conceal them. This catching his attention in the first place.

He furrows his brow in thought. "But rather a wee lass."

Glomgold strokes his beard absently, leaning back in his Italian leather chair, still gazing into those blue eyes. This was beyond what he'd been looking for. And yet, he was fascinated; a Beagle without a mask? It was unheard of! Even if she did appear as though she hadn't even stolen from a gumball machine.

Who is this girl? he thought, unable to find a name anywhere under the original photo.

From the date on the caption, she'd have to be at least in her mid twenties by now. Why had he never seen her with any of them before? Once again, the wheels in Flintheart's head were turning at seeing this new face. He minimizes the window, opening a new one. It might be a long shot, but it was his only option.

Soon his fingers were over the keyboard again, typing Ma Beagle's first name, Bettina, then Beagle in the Duckburg database search engine, selecting FEMALE as the gender. There was even a space to supply an age, deciding to use 24. He takes a deep breath, clicking submit, crossing the fingers on his free hand.

After another few moments of whirring and clicking, as well as more aggravated cursing, a full-length text appears, a picture still being loaded. To his surprise there's only one name at the top of the page. He stares.

" 'Bonnie Bettina Beagle' ?" he asks aloud. "Well, I'll be…"

Once finished loading, the young woman looking back at him is nothing one would expect when typing in Ma Beagle's real name. Rather than a scowling older woman in a prison photo, he found himself looking into a pair of deep blue eyes belonging to a young girl barely nineteen years old, expressing a big smile for her driver's license photo. Judging from the date, it was taken almost five years ago, placing her right at twenty-four years. His jaw drops.

"My God!" He almost laughs, slapping his own forehead. "She's actually gorgeous! Let's see now…" Grinning, he reads aloud further on down the page;

"'Bonnie Beagle, middle name Bettina, after her mother, the infamous Ma Beagle, gang leader and care taker to the ruthless Beagle Boys of Duckburg. Despite her families demeaning reputation as thugs, this lesser known sibling has managed to avoid a lifetime of crime, making her an upstanding, law-abiding citizen.'"

He frowns. "Well, where's the fun in that?!"

He continues reading, laughing to himself every now and then. "'Although she is the only member of her family never seen wearing a mask or numbered placard, unlike her brothers and large assortment of cousins, there is a rumor amongst the criminal world whether or not this "Beagle Girl" could actually live up to the challenge of taking Ma Beagle's place someday.'"

He leans back in his chair, rubbing under his beak, starring at the screen for a moment in silence. He wasn't entirely sure, but there was something about her eyes that he didn't find very convincing. Being deceptive most of his villainous life, he'd learned what it was that made people tick, and how they managed to hide things from those they didn't want to know…and this girl was definitely hiding something…but what, and from who?

He'd glanced down at the end of his desk, spying a stack of mail brought in over the past few days. There were the usual bills and other assortments of junk mail in white envelopes. Underneath them all was a brown one, quite a bit larger then the others. He shakes his head, not in the mood to open something probably involving a type of sweepstakes or credit card offer.

There were more interesting things about to take place. He could feel it.

The shrill ring of the telephone disrupts the silence of his office, making the old duck cringe. He grumbles, plucking it off the receiver.

"Glomgold here," he says sharply. "And this had better be important."

Silence comes from the other end, the only sound is someone's steady breathing.

"Who's there?" He demands. "Like I said, this had better be worth my-"

"You don't read your mail much, do you, Mr. Glomgold?" a voice states calmly.

"I beg your pardon?" he asks. "Who is this, and why are-"

"If you did you would have contacted me by now…and the fact that you have the cleaning lady add it all to the growing stack on your desk is a dead giveaway that you barely give any of it a second glance."

Glomgold's eyes grow wide, glancing over at the pile of envelopes he'd just observed less than a minute before. He looks around the dimly lit room, anxious. "How the devil did you-"

"I suggest you stop worrying about your own privacy for the moment," the voice says, it's tone icy but professional, as though a business meeting were taking place between them. "I'm sure you'll find the secrets of the Beagle family a tad more interesting, seeing as how that seems to be your internet browser's topic of choice for the day."

Gomgold spins around in his chair, searching frantically through the blinds of his office window, scanning the street out front. "Alright that's enough! Tell me who this is, or I'm calling the police and having you arrested for trespassing!"

"Well, what a coincidence," the caller states cheerfully. "As it just so happens I'm with the Duckburg Police Department…and since I'm in the area, I have no doubt dispatch will alert me of your 9-1-1 call…I'd be more than happy to cruise on over and look things over." The voice pauses, then adding. "I trust we have an understanding…? Now, are you willing to hear what I have to say, or not?"

He doesn't move, suddenly reminded of horror movies where the killer would call his victims from inside their own home, asking whether or not they liked scary movies, just before slitting their throats. He swallows, studying every dark area of the room. His hand reaching into the top drawer of his desk, resting on a small hand gun he kept for paranoid moments of being alone in the large mansion every so often. He'd always felt a bit foolish for even having it there, but now he couldn't ask for a more comforting item.

Glomgold keeps his voice down, speaking slowly, his eyes narrowed. "What do you want, lad? Or would you prefer Officer?"

"It's not what I want, Mr. Glomgold. It's what you need…it's what all of Duckburg needs to keep things in order."

Flintheart continues searching his surroundings for any signs of unwanted visitors. "I'm afraid I don't catch yer drift, lad. What exactly do ya think both myself and the city of Duckburg might need that you can offer, and what's it got to do with the Beagles?"

The man's tone becomes suddenly maniacal, if not angry. "Let's just say, that not all of the Beagle's are what they seem…preferably the one you've recently discovered."

He looks back at his computer, frowning at the young woman's image. "Who? This wee lass? Bonnie?" Despite the tension, he chuckles. "She doesn't even wear a mask? Not to mention I've never heard of her. How much of a threat can she be if she barely exists?!"

"More than you know, Flintheart…and believe me when I say that if something isn't done about her, and soon, then there's no telling how much further she'll go before things get out of hand."

His grip on the receiver tightens. "Hold on…what do ya mean by going further?" He raises an eyebrow at the webpage again. "Has she actually done something wrong? According to this, her record is spotless. Not so much as a speeding ticket!"

He stands, leaning against his desk. "Further more, what makes you think I'm willing to even bother wasting my time on a Beagle that's probably never even stolen so much as a Thin Mint from a Girl Scout?!"

The voice on the other end is silent for some time. What he says next sends a chill up the old duck's spine. "You really should go through your mail more frequently, Mr. Glomgold…I'll be in touch. Oh, and good luck at Scrooge's charity event next week…."

Then, the line went dead.

What's this? Corruption within the Duckburg P.D., or just someone trying to gain leverage with the world's second richest duck.

Maybe Bonnie isn't as sweet and innocent as her family thinks. Hopefully this crackpot isn't actually serious.

Still…makes ya think, don't it? Stay tuned…