Note: I still don't own anything having to do with Disney's Ducktales, which is probably for the best, because I would've totally kept making that show! But let's face it; that ship has probably long since sailed. *sigh* So long childhood.

Okay, so I haven't decided if I'm actually satisfied with this chapter or not, but I needed to get something out. It was driving me crazy!

Now, I warn you, things are going to be getting a little crazy…and definitely a little confusing. But don't worry. I'll try to clear some things up before it gets too hard to follow. Also, since it's been about a million years since I've added on to this, ya might wanna think about going back and skimming things over a bit. That's what I would do...but that's just me...

Beagle Without A Mask

Chapter 13

The Plot Thickens…

"Well?"

Officer Jack Russell hadn't even ended the call to his voicemail before his partner had spoken. He pretends to look for a number while scrolling through his phonebook. "Well, what?"

Pinscher's icy tone remains the same, rapping his fingers on the steering wheel. "What did she say?"

"It doesn't matter," he responds.

"Of course it matters…Has anything changed?"

Jack sighs, feeling his unblinking stare on him. God, it was unnerving! "No…she's still going to the ball…she was just checking in."

His eyes narrow. "Why? What else did she say, Jack?"

"It doesn't matter, Damien." He finally looks over at him. It wasn't easy seeing into those darkened eyes. He was glad for the morning light surrounding them as they sat in their squad car, parked across the street from the precinct. If it were night outside, it'd be almost too intimidating for him to look directly into them. "She was just giving me a call, that's it-"

"Where are they going?" he asked flatly, never missing a beat.

Jack shifted in the passenger seat, watching cars drive past them out the windshield. "Didn't say…something about going camping."

"Camping?" Pinscher raised a skeptic brow. "In the middle of October?"

Jack shrugs. "Said it was a pre-Halloween thing that she and…" He paused, clearing his throat. "She and Jennifer do. No big deal."

It was quiet for so long, Jack began to pray for an emergency call to come over the radio just to break the tension; a robbery, a fire…Hell, even a cat stuck in a tree would work! But eventually, his partner speaks, none too thrilled at the information.

"Of course Jennifer's with her." To Jack's relief, he'd turned to face the steering wheel. "Always keeping her close by, dragging her along for the ride."

"What's wrong with camping? It's still a bit warm out there in Duckburg Forest. Who knows, there might even be more people with them. A girls' weekend maybe."

He shakes his head. "They're not camping, Jack…There's only one reason why they'd head out in that direction."

He stares at his partner for a moment. Despite his distrust in the man, it never ceased to amaze him how perceptive he was…considering every possible angle.

"Ya think they're a good enough reason for her to leave town?" he asks, watching his reaction. "Is she really willing to take that risk to go and see them?"

"There isn't a doubt in my mind, Russell…That's exactly where she's headed." He turns his head to face him. "And you know it."

Jack nodded once. He liked Bonnie, but he had to agree with Damien on the fact that there was something a little off about the young woman. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing. There was nothing wrong with caring about ones family, no matter who they were. But it wasn't that, Jack knew. It was something else…But he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

Apparently, Officer Pinscher had the moment he'd laid eyes on her, always harboring a strong suspicion towards the Beagle Boys' sister. Damien had boasted, on more than one occasion, that throughout his career he'd claimed to have come across each and every one of them, cousins and all, at least once…The illusive seven brothers more so than the rest. So it was no surprise that, upon meeting Bonnie Beagle, of all people, he was an instant skeptic.

The fact that she was always trying to keep him and Jennifer separated didn't exactly help her odds…although he really couldn't blame her on that one…Jenny really did deserve better. But he'd never say it to Damien's face. That was the last thing he needed; his own partner pulling a gun on him.

He shuddered at the image, thankful Pinscher was still too deep in thought to notice.

"So what now?" Jack asked.

A thin smile crossed Damien's lips. "What else can we do…? She's your date. Not mine." He folds his arms behind his head. "Besides we still haven't heard from the old geezer yet. Only then, will things be set in motion."

Once again, Jack gives him a strange look. "You still haven't told me what Flintheart Glomgold has to do with any of this…even if he did contact the Beagle Boys in the first place, that doesn't explain what it's got to do with Bonnie."

With closed eyes, he chuckles. "Jackie, Jackie, Jackie…it has to do with everything." His smile broadens when he adds. "Trust me…we are partners, after all."

Yeah, there was definitely something he wasn't telling him. "How do you even know he'll call you back? You didn't exactly explain yourself much on the phone…not to mention you basically threatened him if he called the authorities on you."

"I didn't threaten," he says a little too calmly. "I merely guaranteed him that I would be first on the scene in the event of an emergency call…that's not a threat, it's a promise."

Jack shakes his head, remembering something else that had been said during his conversation with the old duck. "What was all that about checking his mail? Did you give him something? What was it?"

"Patience, my friend. Patience…Once Glomgold is up to speed, than you will be, too…but right now, he comes first."

"Why?" He raises his voice, unable to help himself. "Why the hell is this so important?"

He's almost surprised when Damien looks over at him with one eye. Still smiling eerily. "Because, after he reviews the information I've provided him with, not only is he going to call the Beagles again…he's going to be the first person to convince Bonnie Beagle to rob Scrooge McDuck."

Jack doesn't say anything, having a sudden urge to swing at the dog sitting next him.

"Don't give me that look, Russell," said Pinscher, as though reading his thoughts. "It's not my fault you have a crush on a criminal."

"She's not a criminal," he claims defensively, pointing at him. "She's related to criminals…and for some reason you can't accept that. The sooner you get it through your head that she's innocent in all this, the sooner you can get on with your life, and your job-"

"This is my job!" Pinscher's expression instantly goes from mellow to fierce. "And what you don't seem to realize is who we're dealing with."

"How can I when you won't even tell me! For Christ's sakes, Damien, I'm taking her to the same social event as my father, the mayor, and anyone else of importance in Duckburg. Not to mention it's being held at Scrooge McDuck's money bin." He lowers his voice, their shouting grabbing the attention of pedestrians walking by on the sidewalk. "Now if there is something wrong with Bonnie, hopefully not and yer just a lunatic, but if there is…I need to know."

Damien eyes him for a moment, giving a smirk. He leans back into his seat again. "Like I said…things will be set in motion once Glomgold has a look at the footage I sent him."

"But that still doesn't answer my-"

"McDuck's charity event is the only way we'll know if she's truly lived up to her name or not," he'd interrupted. "Believe me, the old man will come through on this…it's only a matter of waiting after he does…all he needs to do is to get the ball rolling."

Jack scratches at the back of his hair, sighing through his nose. "And what, oh trusted partner, are we waiting on, hmm?" He asks, sarcasm lining his voice. "For Bonnie to suddenly-" he snaps his fingers "-snap under the pressure, miraculously going from innocent, law-abiding citizen…to a ruthless, money-craving thug like the rest of the Beagles?" He shakes his head, turning to look out the window, trying to calm his nerves.

"I hate to break it to you, Damien," he says to the glass. "But that's not how crime works…people don't just change in the blink of an eye…"

Silence fills the squad car before Jack hears the key turning in the ignition, the engine coming to life. What Officer Pinscher says next sends a chill up his spine, an unnatural confidence lining his voice;

"I think we'll let Glomgold be the judge of that…and I have no doubt he'll disagree with you…"

It hadn't taken Glomgold long to rummage through his mail once off the phone with the strange caller, immediately tearing open the large brown envelope, being the only one devoid of anything other than his name.

He looks down at the strange contents now laid on his desk; a blank compact disc in a clear case, and a single slip of paper with a phone number written legibly across it. No name, no explanation. He'd been staring at them for most of the morning, still not entirely sure of what action to take. Finally, after having nothing better to do, he'd returned to his office to again look over the mysterious package.

He scowls at it the piece of paper, pushing it aside. He wasn't in the mood for another conversation with the odd individual…not yet, anyway.

He picks up the DVD, turning it over in his hands. He was having a sudden feeling of uneasiness on being offered such random information. He wasn't used to receiving tips like this, especially from what had sounded like a crooked cop.

Rather than fuss with the media player on his laptop, he takes the disc over to his entertainment center. Once he's powered on everything needed, he inserts the disk. Before taking a seat on one of the plush chairs, he picks up the universal remote, squinting at the small writing before locating and pressing down on the PLAY button. His eyes are on the flat-screen television, fingers rapping impatiently on the chair's armrests.

At first, there was nothing, only blackness. Then, bars of static formed on different parts of the screen, as though the tracking had to be adjusted, most likely copied from a video tape. An image fills the screen once it clears up.

The picture shows the dark interior of a room. He's able to make out evenly spaced squares of what appear to be a linoleum floor, as well as a long counter top running along it, coming short of a wall that's made of…

Metal? A vault, possibly?

The image is looking downward. From the glow of the television it's obviously in black and white. And judging from the angle and digital clock running in the bottom of the screen, he knew almost immediately that he was watching a video feed recorded from a security camera.

A bank security camera…or something similar to a bank…the giant safe door protruding from the wall was now a dead giveaway.

Minutes go by, nothing happens, just the interior lobby of a bank after hours. But then, a figure emerges from the corner of the image, strolling casually around the outskirts of the room. He's not surprised at the gray uniform he wears with matching brimmed hat, as well as the cliché shiny "rent-a-cop" badge pinned to his chest. A beer belly, as well as a nightstick swinging absently in one hand, and a cup of coffee in the other, completes the ensemble of night security guard.

With his back to Glomgold, the portly duck takes slow strides, scanning his surroundings, drinking his coffee. Nothing out of the ordinary… and then, it happened.

It was so fast that he had to pause it and rewind for a few seconds. He played it again, watching in amazement as something had dropped down from the ceiling behind the obese guard. A black blur as it seemed to pounce on him, and in one quick motion-

Wait, is that a person?

-an arm wraps around the man's large neck. There isn't time for him to struggle, almost immediately going limp. The black newcomer had reached out and grasped his coffee before he slid to the floor in a heap, setting it on a nearby desk. In another fluid motion, gloved hands begin to drag the body back behind the teller stations, out of view from the lobby but not the camera. From here Flintheart can see the man breathing. He was alive, probably just drugged.

When the figure stands up straight, head turned to inspect the surrounding lobby, Glomgold squints for his first look at the-

"Great Scott!" He'd leapt to his feet, hopping over his coffee table to sit directly in front of the television set, like a child watching cartoons. "It can't be!"

The face was faintly covered by a signature black burglar's mask, but there were enough features still visible to allow for an angelic look, a high ponytail holding back long dark hair. The feminine physique and graceful posture make her gender even more obvious.

But this wasn't what surprised him…having recognized the woman's face from the image that still resided on his computer's web browser. The footage may be grainy. But in his mind this couldn't possibly be a coincidence. It had to be her, though this version was much older, more grownup. He checks the date on the screen again; less than one year ago.

He watches as the young woman resembling Bonnie Beagle searches the guard's pockets, quickly locating her objective; a set of keys and a small notepad. She quickly makes her way down the line of tellers, rather than going up to the vault door, she bypasses it, making her way to the back offices, disappearing from view.

"What-where'd she go?" His eyes scan the screen, surprised to see it change to another camera view. Same date, same time. He sees her again, walking down the hallway, passing a couple of doors before stopping in front of the third on her left. Using the acquired keys, she unlocks it. Once inside she goes back behind a desk next to a file cabinet, sitting behind it. Her face lights up under the glow of the computer's monitor as she turns it on.

She goes through the small black book she'd taken from the guard. Reading over something. She begins to rapidly type onto the keyboard, not taking her eyes off the monitor. A few minutes go by as she appears to search through files. Unfortunately, Flintheart had almost no experience in computer technology. From a glance, to him, she's just starring intently at a glowing screen, just as he was at his television set.

For all he knew, she was just browsing through random files. But why? What did that have to do with the safe?

Finally, the masked woman pulls from her pocket a small purple USB thumb drive. She inserts it into the assigned slot on the tower, using the mouse to click over more options that had popped up on the screen.

Glomgold growls in annoyance. "Blast it! I wish I could see what she has in front of her."

Once finished, she returns everything to the way it was before, pocketing the drive and locking the door behind her. The view changes to that of the lobby again. The guard is still unconscious on the floor, just as she'd left him. She turns the corner, once again passing the vault door, barely giving it a second glance as she strolls through the teller area, twirling the key ring around a gloved finger while whistling.

Whistling?

"What in the devil is going on here?" he shouts, for a moment forgetting he's watching a recording. "What's the point of breaking into a bank if yer not even gonna touch the safe? What kind of a robbery is this?"

He now watches in disgust as she returns to the sleeping security guard, replacing his belongings. She heaves him up onto a chair behind the same desk she'd set his coffee mug onto, even taking a moment to straighten the man's tie and uniform, replacing his hat. After slapping her hands together, satisfied, she glances down at the mug, snapping her fingers. She picks it up, disappearing into what looks like a nearby break room.

Glomgold shakes his head. "She didn't…please tell me she didn't just-SHE DID!"

He slaps himself on the forehead as the woman returns with a cup of fresh hot coffee, setting it down gently in front of him. From here it looks as though the guard had just sat down into a plush desk chair, dozing off. She checks her watch before glancing around again. Instead of looking for an exit, her gaze falls on-

"What the…" An unsettling feeling ran through the old duck, a sensation he's not very familiar with.

Her eyes were on him, or rather the camera on the wall. But instead of a look of confusion, or even panic coming over her at the sight of being recorded, she grins. She then moves casually through the bank lobby, and out of sight.

His eyes search the screen frantically for her; a shadow, a blur, some sign of a door opening and closing. But there was nothing to show she was ever there…the woman was gone.

A few minutes later, he listens to a dial tone after punching in the mysterious phone number. Before he has second thoughts, a familiar voice is on the other line.

"It's about time, Mr. Glomgold…So, did you enjoy the movie?"

"You've convinced me, Lad," he grumbles, taking a seat behind his desk. "But before I agree to anything, explain to me what kind of intentions someone like you can gain from a gal like that?"

"Let's just say, that…I owe her one."

"And what exactly do ya need me for?" he asks flatly, losing patience with his feeling of uneasiness. "From this here footage, I'm sure you've got all the incriminating evidence ya need to put her behind bars without my help-"

"Oh, for a number of reasons, actually," the voice interrupts casually. "For one, it only proves she was trespassing. There wasn't a single clue left behind to connect her with any real crime. Secondly, you may have noticed that the image isn't clear enough to identify her. All it shows is a young woman, similar to her, using one of the bank's computers; nothing was taken. But it was her, and she had to have done something…she may have everyone else at the station fooled, but not me."

He looks down at his laptop again, the young girl's picture still starring back at him. "So, where exactly do I come in?"

"Well, apparently," the man on the other end chuckles. "You failed to notice which bank she was invading…on more than one occasion might I add."

It doesn't take the old duck long to realize what he's getting at, a sinking feeling now in the pit of his stomach. His question is answered before he can even ask-

"It's a Flintheart National Bank…and, now that I have your full attention." He pauses to clear his throat. "What I ask you to do next won't only benefit me…it may give you a chance to take back whatever it was that may have been taken from you…"

Glomgold doesn't respond, rubbing under his beak.

"Not to mention, it'll make your plans for infiltrating McDuck's little party a hell of a lot more interesting."

He still doesn't answer, not entirely sure about his opinion of this man. True, he wasn't about to take the fact of possibly being robbed lying down. But he had a feeling that there was more to this than he was being told. It wasn't often that his services were requested by someone of this magnitude, nor his businesses so easily infiltrated without having a vault or safe being broken into. Flintheart Glomgold was no fool, and he didn't take lightly to being taken advantage of as though he were one.

Still, it was a tempting offer that seemed to fit perfectly into his own plans involving the Beagle Boys, especially the stupid aggressive one he'd spoken with over the phone. Not only would this make things more entertaining, but he had to admit; getting the thugs to involve their youngest sibling, unknowingly setting her up for failure, was pretty sadistic. Even for him.

As long as he was compensated for what he was owed, there was no reason not to go along with him.

After tapping his fingers in thought, he finally says, "What've ya got in mind, Lad? And for your sake, I'd better not be regretting this later."

"Oh, I can assure you," the officer says darkly. "Everyone will be getting exactly what's coming to them once this is all over…I'll bet my badge on it."

I know what yer thinking; WTF just happened here!

Don't say I didn't warn you of the craziness, and the confusion…ness. Cuz I did!

All will be clear soon enough. Just be patient with me, and stay tuned…