Note: Ducktales is, and always will be, property of Disney... but fortunately for us they don't have a say in the community of weirdness that is Fanfiction. Power to the writers! Down with the oppressive overlords who enforce copyright infringement!

*ahem* Sorry...

I, um...may 've had a little too much coffee this morning :D

Anyway, here's the next chapter! Enjoy!

Beagle Without A Mask

Chapter 16

A Day At The Precinct…

Officer Russell continues to stare at his computer screen, rhythmically tapping the end of his pen on the wooden desk. The page in front of him had taken forever to find, though now he may not even have time for it to load before his partner came back to sit at the desk adjacent his own.

His ears perk at a voice traveling over the usual hustle and bustle of the Duckburg P.D. precinct; Damien was nearby. Probably chatting it up with some of the more experienced detectives, trying to stay on their good side in case their resources were to ever come in handy during a case. That was his partner; always trying to stay ahead of the game.

Damien's intuition for trouble had always impressed everyone; he saw it all coming from a mile away. It was almost as if he could put himself in the shoes of the perpetrator and know exactly what their next move would be; really getting into their heads. He was greatly admired by his peers, and was constantly hounded into transitioning over to detective. There was no denying he truly would thrive in the position, but he would always relish in their praise for his sixth sense of the criminal mind, claiming that his skills were being utilized in the right department. To everyone else, he always came off as humble. But Jack knew better.

The only crimes that ever seemed to catch Damien off guard were the random schemes of Duckburg's most popular public nuisance; the Beagle Boys. This, Jack knew, was why Damien became a cop in the first place. He'd always told him that, ever since he was a kid, news reports would constantly interrupt his favorite cartoon shows, filling his living room with the panicked ramblings of local news anchors and police sirens, live on the scene at yet another one of their criminal exploits. Conversations at the dinner table would quickly steer away from what he'd learned at school to what his father was reading in the paper about how the Beagle Boys had nearly broken into Scrooge McDuck's money bin the day before. Even highly anticipated trips to the park or the yearly carnival would be abruptly cancelled, always susceptible to "Beagle Madness".

It just never seemed to end, including his father's obsession with the family of criminals. There were times he felt that the man was more interested in what a group of degenerate low lives were up to than his own son. At first, Jack's heart went out to the poor kid his partner had described. But after a while, it no longer sounded like a childhood burden; a life experience stained within a child's memory banks. Obnoxious experiences, such as a kid wetting his pants on the first day of kindergarten, or a younger sibling reduced to getting hand-me-down toys and clothes instead of anything new. No; this had become an unhealthy obsession. One that was beginning to interfere with his own personal life. And that, is where he drew the line.

Jack nearly bolts forward in his chair when the police report finally appears on his monitor. He scans the immediate area one more time before giving it his full attention. It had taken him a couple of days, but he'd finally found what he was looking for. Ever since the strange conversation he'd had with Damien, trying to confront him about what exactly his beef was with not only the infamous family of thugs, but the only one of them to have a completely spotless record. There wasn't so much as a parking violation in her name, let alone anything that could qualify her as a criminal mastermind!

Jack's eyes pour over the report he'd found deep in the Police Department archives. It wasn't much but it was at least something. The file was regarding an incident at Duckburg National Bank nearly twenty years ago involving a few of the Beagle Boys; Burger, Bouncer, and Bigtime Beagle were reported as being the prime suspects. It went on to state that Ma Beagle, the family's gang leader, may have been spotted on the scene. Unfortunately, there wasn't anything else mentioned about her. Then again, identifying the family as a whole wasn't his prime directive.

The reason he'd even thought to look up this case was because of something he'd witnessed a long time ago; back when he was just a kid riding around in the backseat of his dad's squad car. It was only supposed to be a routine patrol, until dispatch announced over the radio that immediate backup was requested at the bank in question; the Beagle Boys were at it again. His father had actually said this, then slamming his foot down on the accelerator and hollering back at him to make sure he was buckled in tight.

He couldn't remember a more thrilling afternoon; the wailing of the sirens, the screeching of the tires, the booming voices of authority barking orders at everyone around them, the excitement of knowing that heavily armed convicted felons might actually try to put up a fight instead of going quietly. He'd always wanted to be a cop, but that day was the first time he knew that he would follow in his father's footsteps.

But the fight would never come. In fact, something much more tragic was waiting for Officer Russell and his ten year old son at the crime scene. The building was engulfed in black smoke, and firefighters were working quickly to douse the flames billowing out of the windows, hoping to stop it before anymore damage was caused. Luckily, no civilians were inside when the explosion went off; the bank wasn't scheduled to open for another two hours. But whether or not the crooks themselves had made it out unscathed was still to be determined.

His father had ordered him to stay back with the onlooking pedestrians. He'd done so without argument, but wanted more than anything to be out there on the front lines with him, hoping to catch a glimpse of the no-good gangsters as they got what was coming to them. Even though he was on the opposing side of the barricade with the other onlookers, he still managed to wriggle his way to the edge of the crowd in hopes of getting a better view. He recalled being rather miffed at barely being able to see the front of the building from so far away, his only clear view being that of the alleyway behind it… and even that was blocked off by a large green station wagon.

Young Jack's disappointment was immediately forgotten at sighting what looked like three men dressed in red and blue bursting out into the alley, coughing and gagging from the smoke trailing behind them. He couldn't believe his eyes; it was the Beagle boys, in the flesh. He gapes at the sight of them, catching bits and pieces of what sounded like an argument between them. Expecting them to all jump into their car and flee the scene unnoticed, he was shocked to see that one of them— the shortest of the three— had retreated back into the unstable building.

Curiosity getting the better of him, Jack had ducked under the safety of the barricade without anyone noticing, creeping to hide behind the wall of the building next to the bank, then a number of trash cans leading into the opening of the alley. He'd crouched down in his hiding place, waiting for the third Beagle Boy to return so that he could signal down the street for the police to come and arrest them, making him a hero. He'd wondered if his mother would be proud of him, or maybe he'd even be congratulated by the mayor himself.

He'd been so caught up in his daydream that he'd nearly missed hearing more coughing as the last member of the nefarious group had emerged from the smoke a second time. He'd craned his neck in hopes of getting a better look at their faces, recognizing the one who'd gone back inside; Bigtime Beagle. He was young, at least a teenager, just like his brothers. What Jack thought was another load of stolen cash from the bank's vault had been something entirely unexpected, causing his jaw to drop.

A small girl, cradled tightly in his arms.

"Hey, what's Bonnie doin' here?! I thought she was back home!"

Jack watched in amazement as three well-known convicted felons dote over the young girl with brown hair, making sure that she was okay. Bigtime Beagle was still clearly very angry, but obviously hides it whenever he addresses the one they kept calling 'Bon Bon'.

"She'll be okay," he heard him say, forcing a grin for her. "She's tough… Ain't that right, kid?"

The way he'd said this to her… it was in the same manner his father had spoken to him on a number of occasions, after clearly having a bad day at work, not wanting to bring the stress from the precinct home to his family. He didn't know what to make of it, suddenly finding himself questioning everything he thought he knew about the Beagle Boys.

Bigtime addressed the other two, ordering them to take her back home and out of harm's way before he trudges down the alley, coming in his direction.

"But, aren't we s'posed to meet at the hideout here in town if we get separated?" he heard one of them argue, just as he'd ducked out of sight as the shortest goon trudged passed his hiding place. "That's what Ma's always-"

"Because of Ma Bonnie almost got killed!"

Jack had flinched at the outburst, peering around the trash can to see a fuming Bigtime. He'd seen his picture plenty of times; on the television, the wanted posters scattered about his father's precinct, newspaper clippings…and he always looked angry in them. But this time was different. He'd seen this look before, back when his mother would catch him climbing too high in the fir tree in their backyard. When she'd scold him for nearly breaking his neck, he knew that she wasn't just angry; she was scared.

"Look…" Jack was unable to break his stare from the young thug, watching as he fights to regain his composure as the leader. "I'm the boss, and I say get 'er home. Understand?"

As Bigtime kept moving to the end of the alley, Jack heard the engine of the station wagon crank, then gradually backing up to the start of the alley behind them to avoid being seen by anyone out front. His attention stayed fixed on Bigtime as he took great care in searching the surrounding area out on the street. From the looks of it, he didn't like what he saw, shaking his head. He heard the young goon swear under his breath:

"I'll be damned if I let that woman drag her down with the rest of us."

Without warning, the Beagle had turned his back on the street, taking half a step down the alley before stopping in his tracks, making eye contact with the boy sitting behind two trash cans. For what felt like an eternity, the two just stared at each other, unblinking. Jack's rib cage had ached for days from his heart beating so rapidly against his chest. He'd found himself suddenly wishing he'd done what his father had told him to do and stayed out of the way, instead of finding himself in the worst possible situation; at the mercy of a Beagle Boy.

Surprisingly, Bigtime's expression had morphed into what, at the time, looked to be fatigue. But after all these years of experience, he knew it was so much more than that; it was remorse.

"I ain't gonna hurtchya, kid." He'd kept his voice low, trying not to frighten him. "Just…go find yer parents, okay?" He'd taken a few more steps down the alley, stopping just about three feet from little Jack Russell, letting out a deep sigh. What he said next would stay with the boy for the rest of his life:

"Word of advice, kid," Bigtime had said, looking down at him with an odd expression. "Don't turn into somethin' ya hate; be yer own person, and do whatever makes you happy. Not what makes everyone else happy." He points. "Got that?"

The boy had barely managed a very confused nod before Bigtime had suddenly doubled back, making his way to the open street again at having caught sight of something, leaving a dumbfounded Jack alone with his thoughts.

Looking back on it, he was glad he'd made such a bold move. It'd given him an entirely new outlook on those he'd taken an oath to protect the citizens of Duckburg from. They may have made a wrong turn in life, but that didn't necessarily make them heartless; crooks were people, too, after all…

Jack snaps back into the present, rubbing at his tired eyes before turning off his monitor, not wanting to risk his partner coming up behind him and seeing what he was doing. He'd never told Pinscher about his close encounter with the Beagle family, mainly because it would more than likely fuel his unwarranted hatred for Bonnie.

He taps his fingers on his desk, thinking. He finally pushes himself up from his chair, making his way through the maze of work areas littered about the busy precinct, all the while keeping an eye out for Damien. When he spies his destination— an office door— he makes a beeline for it. Once directly in front of it, he goes to gently tap on the frosted glass window with his knuckles—

"J.J.! There you are!"

The heavy hand that clamps down on his shoulder makes him jump. His head swivels around to see the very person he'd hoped to find behind the closed door. "Dad-I mean, Chief! Hi!"

Grinning ear to ear at him is Chief of Police Jack Russell Sr.; a burly man with brown hair and eyes, much like his son. It always amused Jack to know that if he ever needed a reminder as to what he should expect to see in the mirror in about thirty years, his father was never too far away. Though he had a few gray hairs to look forward to, he at least knew he'd have all of them. That much was comforting.

"I was just looking for you," his father boomed with gusto; a trait which Jack himself had never really acquired. "Step into my office." He opens the door, gesturing.

Before he has a chance to acknowledge the invitation, Jack is practically corralled into the office. He finds himself standing in the middle of a room that he's known since he was a kid, never tiring of the various trophies, ribbons, medals and certificates of appreciation strewn about the walls. There were so many of them that it almost made the office itself feel cramped, but still very inspiring. He watches as his superior goes behind the large wooden desk, letting out a content exhale as he sits in the plush chair, leaning back slightly. He gives him an odd look. "Well, have a seat! This isn't an ass-chewing." He pauses before adding "well… not yet anyway."

Jack tries to match his father's jovial laugh, though it comes out extremely forced as he lowers himself down into the closest open chair.

"So?" Chief Russell's fingers interlace before he rests his chin on them. "How are things?"

"Oh… fine." He didn't like lying to his father, but he wasn't really sure how to tell him that his partner might be clinically insane because he was obsessed with someone who may or may not have a criminalizing past. Naturally, he had his own interest in her but for entirely different reasons. "Just fine. Never better." He unconsciously begins to tap his shoes on the wooden floor at the way his father continues to stare him down expectantly.

"Is that so?" He arches his brow, giving a slow nod of understanding. He taps his fingers together. "So there's nothing… you'd like to tell me?"

"Nope." Jack returns the odd expression. "Should there be?"

"Don't know yet," the Chief says simply. "Some of the boys say you haven't been acting like yourself these past few weeks." He pauses, gaze still fixed on him. "Anything you wanna talk about?"

Jack stays quiet, thinking back on the timeline in question; a few months ago, the partner he'd had since joining the force nearly six years ago had turned in his badge and gun, ready to enjoy some well-deserved retirement. He knew he'd be assigned another partner, but what he hadn't counted on was who it'd be.

A young cop had transferred from one of the other precincts, and according to the superiors of that station, he was an extremely dedicated policeman; a real go-getter. But he was also a handful, and a little too rambunctious when it came to solving a crime. He seemed to be more of a loaner, off the handle private eye type than an ordinary officer of the law. Naturally, this "super cop" was destined to be his new partner; Damien Pinscher.

His father saw it as a great opportunity, but if Jack didn't know any better he'd swear he was being punished.

"Dad?" Jack let out a sigh. "Can I ask you something?"

Chief Russell appears taken aback by the informal tone he uses, but still nods. "Of course, son. What's on your mind? Is everything alright?"

He steals a glance at the closed door behind him before saying "have you had the chance to get to know Pinscher at all? I mean… sat down and really talked to him. Find out what kind of a guy he is?"

Jack watches his father lean forward onto his desk, fingers folded as he thinks on the question. He nods slowly. "I've, had an occasional talk with him." He shrugs. "Mostly about anything job related, but what else do you expect from a workaholic. Why do you ask?"

He doesn't answer right away, unsure of how to proceed with what he knew would be a sensitive subject; claiming a fellow officer was abusing his power for personal gain was a serious accusation, and if there was one thing Jack wanted to avoid it was stepping on the wrong toes. Thankfully he had someone like his father around to either clear the air or to make sure the issue was taken care of as discreetly as humanly possible.

Jack takes in a breath, straightening his posture before blurting "I have reason to believe that Pinscher is using his position to stalk his ex-girlfriend and accuse her roommate of criminal activity without official evidence to support his claims."

Chief Russell stares at him in silence before a hearty laugh escapes him, surprising his son. This continues for another few seconds before he finally takes a breath. "Say that again?" he manages through a chuckle.

Jack frowns before repeating his statement. Naturally, it earns him the same response as before.

"I… I'm sorry!" Jack Senior rubs at his watery eyes, noticing his son's agitation. "But you can't really blame me! I mean come on; the guy's barely been here three months and yer already accusing him of being a dirty cop!"

"It's more than that!" He couldn't help but project this. "He passes by their apartment building at least twice a day during our shift, and actually goes in to see her any chance he gets. With flowers!" He jams his finger on the desk before him, lowering the volume of his voice. "I'm not sure if he's actually getting the chance to see her or not but I do know that her friend is doing everything she can to keep him from getting to her. And I'm pretty sure it's pissed him off so much that he's trying to have her put in jail just to get her out of the way!" He sighs, averting his eyes from the now serious stare his father has trained on him. "Dad… I know how crazy this all sounds, but it's the truth. I swear…

"Damien might seem like he's got it all together, but he doesn't," he continues as his superior listens intently. "There's something seriously off about that guy… and it's not just because he's love sick over an old flame. It's something different… something dark. I can see it, whenever he talks about Bonnie and trying to prove he's got something on her."

"Whoa hey wait; Bonnie?" his father interrupts, raising an inquisitive brow. "As in, Bonnie Beagle?"

Jack forces a nod, not surprised that he knows which Bonnie he's talking about; her mother— Ma Beagle— was notorious for visiting the Beagle Boys while they were incarcerated, and would bring her young daughter along. His father used to keep a candy dish with sweets in it to offer her from time to time, having a soft spot for any adorable children brought into the station. Jack remembers him telling his mother how he couldn't imagine something so sweet and innocent sharing the same lineage with lowlives such as the Beagle Boys.

"Okay, sooo… let me try to understand this." He leans onto his elbows, giving him a questionable look. "You think that Damien has some sort of vendetta against the only Beagle in the world that hasn't done anything wrong?"

Jack holds back a groan. "No, I know he does! Dad, I'm not trying to look for something that isn't there just to get a different partner. Damien being insane isn't me being paranoid; it's fact!"

"But what on Earth makes you think he can frame Bonnie Beagle, of all people?"

Jack gives an exaggerated shrug. "I don't know! Maybe he's trying to have Jennifer all to himself… or, maybe he really does think she's just as bad as the rest of her family and has something to hide. I really have no idea! But what I do know is that he's making shady deals with Flintheart Glomgold! Don't ask me why." He holds up his hands to stop the question before it comes. "Again; I don't know."

Chief Russell watches him in silence, finally letting out a long sigh.

"Dad…you've gotta believe me. Why would I lie about this?"

He still looks on at his son in thought, tapping on the desk with his index finger. The deafening silence is finally broken when he asks calmly "has he made any verbal or physical threats to Miss Beagle or this ex of his?"

Jack opens his mouth, but doesn't respond. Come to think of it, he'd never actually seen or heard Pinscher doing anything that classified as threatening; not to either of them. Not to mention the fact that whatever secret plan he has involving Bonnie and Scrooge's money bin should count as threatening, there was no physical proof to back it up.

With this in mind, he suddenly regrets his decision to bring this to the Chief of police. It was too soon. He needed more to go off of than just an observation…

"Has he said or done anything that would give you reason to think he'd harm them in anyway?"

"Well… not exactly, but— "

"And you're absolutely sure that it's Bonnie Beagle he's trying to convict of a crime?"

"Yes, but he— "

"And if so, is there any proof—that you know of—that can be held against her?"

Jack takes a second to breathe through his nose; this was definitely not a good idea. There was no point in trying to push this any further. Having a feeling that's what his father is trying to get at, he slowly shakes his head. "No, sir."

"Then you know as well as I do that there's nothing we can do." He looks to him with sincere empathy. "Son… I truly am sorry that there's a possibility these women are being harassed in some way. But unless you can prove to me that these accusations are true, I suggest keeping this to yourself. I know this is frustrating," he adds when Jack shifts about his chair in disgruntled silence. "But try to think about the repercussions of this. Now don't get me wrong; Bonnie is a sweet kid. Nothing like her mother!" He swipes his arm out in front of him to stress this. "Completely opposite! So believe me when I tell you that if there's anyone I think that deserves to be left alone, it's her." He pauses. "How does Bonnie feel about any of this? Has she filed a complaint about him?"

"No," Jack responds in defeat, not looking in his direction. "She doesn't know."

"So you haven't even brought it to her attention yet?"

He shakes his head.

"Why not?"

Jack sighs, arms still crossed. "It's… complicated."

Chief Russell cranes his neck down to meet his gaze, giving a slight smirk. "Would you like to?"

He finally looks up in confusion. "Well, of course I would. If only to warn her about what his intentions might be." He furrows his brow at him questioningly. "But I thought we weren't authorized to involve civilians in police business."

"We're not," he says, still grinning. "But there's nothing wrong with a nice guy like yourself wanting to voice his concerns to a nice girl like Bonnie. Nothing wrong with that, at all." He then proceeds to shuffle through a stack of papers in his Inbox. "Ya know, I think you've been working a little too hard since yer old partner left. Maybe it's time you take a few days off."

Jack holds back a groan at what was beginning to sound more like a concerned parent than a superior officer. "I appreciate the thought," he says flatly. "But I think the last thing I need right now is a vacation."

"Nonsense," he projects, finally pulling something from the stack of papers and beginning to scribble on it furiously. "Everyone should take a breather every once in awhile; recharge the ol' batteries. Even you, Officer Russell."

He offers him a quick glance. "Plus, you've been spending an awful lot of time here. I doubt that's doing yer social life any favors."

Jack stares blankly at his father for a moment before it finally dawns on him what he's hinting at. He tries to hide his own grin as he watches him finish filling out the paperwork he'd retrieved.

"Here." He thrusts the page out to him. "Take this to the H.R. rep, Janice; she'll take care of it."

Jack goes to take what he now knows is a leave authorization form. Once in hand he doesn't bring his arm down just yet, meeting his father's stare, seeing nothing but understanding. He glances at it again before asking "are you sure this is okay? I mean… I'm honestly not trying to play the favorites card because yer my father. I could just call her; I have her number— "

"This isn't about me and you," he answers firmly. "It's about someone being innocent until proven guilty, and a girl with Bonnie's reputation needs all the help she can get." He pauses, still looking to him with sincerity. "She really is different from any other Beagle; more than you or I will ever understand."

Jack blinks at his father in confusion. "What, exactly does that mean?"

"It means whatever you want it to, son." He opens one of the folders on his desk. "You just concentrate on giving Bonnie a heads up in person; it will mean more that way. Now get outta here." He waves his hand towards the door. "I don't wanna see you in uniform again until the Charity Ball on Saturday." He actually points to him sternly. "And you'd better have a date this year or neither of us will hear the end of it from your mother!"

Jack holds his tongue at wanting to mention he already had that taken care of; his father may support Bonnie being innocent, but he wasn't sure how he'd react to her being his plus one. He would just have to play it by ear and hope for the best. Instead, he offers a curt nod. "Will do, sir." He goes to open the door, grasping onto the knob as he asks "what about Damien? What should I tell him?"

"Nothing," he states. "Something tells me he'll be a little too preoccupied with those progress reports he promised to help update and organize." He gives a somewhat sly grin as he reaches for the phone on his desk. "That partner uh yours sure is a real go-getter; always offering a helping hand."

"Yeah." He rolls his eyes, opening the office door. "That's what people keep telling me."

"What do mean yer not 'comfortable' with it? You didn't have a problem with it before!"

"Because it's just wrong, Pinscher," the caller pleads. "Framing her for a bank robbery is one thing, but this? I… I don't think I can do this."

Damien glances over his shoulder, seeing if anyone's taken notice of him in the corner of the men's locker room before getting back to his cell phone. "Well it's not up to you, is it?" He keeps his voice down, jabbing a finger at his chest. "I'm calling the shots in this, remember?"

"This is a lot more serious than just wanting her to do time behind bars! I mean, yer planning to put a life in danger; someone could die-"

"Don't talk to me about how serious this is! And don't forget who yer talking to! Think about where you'd be right now if I hadn't brought you in on this!"

He pauses while the voice on the other end gives a small sigh. "Fine… but this isn't right, and you know it. I don't care how terrible you think that family is. No one deserves this, not even the Beagle Boys-"

"Noted," he blurts. "Now pull yourself together. You and the others may have to do a little extra work that night if Glomgold doesn't come through on his end. I'm not going to take any chances with this. I've waited too long to have some rich old geezer mess it all up now-"

He stops short when a group of men barge into the locker room, talking and laughing about who knows what. He calms himself before getting back to the caller.

"Just make sure everything's ready; no mistakes. It all has to be connected to her. If some of the other crooks go down in the process, then so be it." He actually grins. "The more the merrier. Just so long as she's the one to blame. Is that clear?"

There's a silence on the other end, only broken when the caller clears their throat, responding with "as mud," before abruptly hanging up.

He flips his phone shut, the offensive action not putting a damper on his mood. With a grin still set firmly on his lips he steps over to one of the many uniformed lockers lining the center of the changing room, having to hoist a leg over the long bench in the center to get to one locker in particular. Once open, he goes about his evening routine of removing his uniform, taking care to hang it up neatly before throwing on a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt. He finally checks his reflection in the small mirror on the back of the door, running a hand through his hair.

He grabs the brown leather jacket hanging next to his uniform, going to close the door, only to pause. He slowly pulls it back open to stare at an object on the eye level shelf. He finishes putting on his jacket before reaching for it, taking a seat on the long bench, not looking away from the white cardboard box in his hands.

He takes care in making sure he's alone before gently removing the lid, his fingers closing around the single item at the bottom. He sets the empty box off to the side, running his thumb fondly over the small piece of light blue plastic. His smile widens.

"Don't worry, Little Bon Bon," he whispers, admiring the faded lettering inscribed on it. "It'll all be over soon… I promise."

Yikes! Psycho much?

Let me tell ya, this guy is just gonna get creepier and creepier. So have fun with that!

Next chapter is almost done, but naturally I'll be nitpicking at it for a few weeks before it's published. Stay tuned, loyal readers...