Disclaimer: I knew this wouldn't be as huge as the second and third chapters. Those were all about setting up the story, and with it being a one-hour episode, I may have gone overboard. Still, the length of this chapter, considering the episode, makes me happy.

The title's a pun… my love of Undertale has forced me to make them wherever I go. Send help and muffins.

RainbowCelin: And… there they go.

Jarjaxle: April's a brown feathered duck. Where did you think an owl?

twilight-sweden: Thanks!

WolfGirl01: Who knows? All you can do I guess if keep on reading to find out.

ultima-owner: All I'm guessing is that it involves the moon. Space seemed important in the Ducktales universe.

"Speaking"

Thinking

"Coffee. I swear, why is it always coffee?" I flipped through my notepad, and snapped it shut with a groan. "Scrooge, honestly, it's unhealthy to drink this much caffeine." Meh, not like I don't drink as much as he does. I enjoy a beverage every now and then.

The first morning of our newest residents, and I had yet to stumble across the boys, Donald… or Webby. I should have been concerned about that last one, but I let it go. The girl was more than likely playing with the others in her room. Mrs. Beakley was making probably making getting his morning drink ready. "Ah, just a normal day in the McDuck Manor." Heading down the hallway where his bedroom was on, I stiffed a giggle when I saw the housekeeper, hair askew and darts stuck to her face, barge in on him. Okay, this I gotta hear. Listening to the children's screams coming closer, I quickly slipped in behind her and closed the door.

"Beakley?" Scrooge, donned in a housecoat, turned from his window to look at her. The darts fell off her face as she walked in, and I gave a pleasant wave from my stop.

"Morning, Scrooge." Mrs. Beakley sat the tray down on the window seat, and began to pour him a cup of tea.

"I feel I should prepare you for what's out there," she warned. Scrooge smiled, rolling his eyes.

"How bad can it be? Lid left off the peanut butter. Errant roller skate left on the stairway." Taking the tray again, we headed to the door so Scrooge could get a glimpse for himself.

"Uh, Scrooge, I think Webby showed the boys her collection of-" too late. "Incoming!" Ducking down, I avoided the onslaught of darts firing down the hall. Scrooge yanked the tray out of Mrs. Beakley's hands, using it as a shield while she quickly caught the cup, saucer, and kettle before they crashed to the floor. "An elaborate series of cutthroat war games."

"Should have seen this coming," I muttered, getting back up off the carpet. Huey came running by, watching over his shoulder as Dewey sprinted after him.

"Take that!" He stopped right in front of us, firing at Huey's back.

"Dewey, don't yell at your target before you fire." Scrooge tossed the tray to the side and took the gun from him. Staring down the sight, he mimicked the correct position. "You lose the element of surprise." Tossing it back to him, Scrooge headed off down the hall where they came from. Dewey's eyes widened, and he ran past after Huey as Louie brought up the rear. Firing a barrage of darts, he managed to make a dozen stick to the wall, and almost knock over a vase. Thankfully, I managed to catch it before it hit the ground.

"Good hands, April!" Louie shouted, giving me another sly wink as he went by. Yeah, I need to talk to his uncle about that. The sooner the better.

"When I said you should spend more time with your family, I did not mean move them in," Mrs. Beakley said to Scrooge. I doubted the duck even heard her, seeming to listen to the game going on around us. Carefully putting the vase back on the table, we followed after him, just as Webby declared from somewhere behind us about the foyer being a tomb.

"Ow, my tailbone!" Huey shouted, making Scrooge laugh.

"Sir, this is out of control," Mrs. Beakley explained, stretching her arms to further her point once we caught up.

"Kids will be kids." He took the doorknob in his hand, ready to open it. "For everyone's happiness, we've all got to make sacrifices." He opened the bathroom door, and I frowned as a hand immediately went across my eyes.

"Uh, guys? What's going on?"

"Um, ocupado." Donald? Is he-? What the heck is he doing in the ba-no. N-no. I don't wanna know. Bad mind. No weird thoughts this early in the morning.

"House meeting. Now," Scrooge growled. The door slammed shut, and I tapped the hand over my face.

"Uh, not sure who this is, but can I please have my sight back?" Mrs. Beakley lowered her hand, and I smiled at her thankfully. "Thanks. Well, as much as that was enjoyable, I'll go gather up the kids and get them in the dining room." I could have gone all my life without something like that ever happening. Backtracking to where I last heard the kids, I stuck my head around the corner, finding them gathered around a down Huey in the foyer-wait. I mean, the tomb. "Alright, dorks and dorkette, head to the dining room. Your uncle wants a word with you."

"What did we do?" Dewey asked, helping Huey to his feet. The boy was rubbing his backside, wincing.

"It's more like what Donald did. Webby, you're only coming because your grandmother is helping out. Now, come on."

Leading them all into the room, I split off to stand by Scrooge and Mrs. Beakley while they all sat at the far end of the table with Donald. Who thank goodness, was wearing clothes. I-oh man. It's going to take forever to get that incident out of my mind. Scrooge had also changed into his normal attire as well. A chalkboard under a sheet was set up between him and Mrs. Beakley, and I curiously wondered what sort of guidelines they came up with. The group was chattering, and with a quick whack at the board with his cane, Scrooge got them all to quiet down. "All right. Time for some house rules." He yanked the sheet off, revealing only two rules written on the board. "Rule one: my space is my space. My study, my sleeping quarters. My washroom." Scrooge stressed the last part, and I could see Donald roll his eyes. Okay, I'm agreeing on that rule. I'm an exception, at least in terms of the study and quarters. Definitely not the washroom. I can mostly go everywhere within reason, only due to the fact I need to be on constant call if he needs me. "Rule two: defer to Mrs. Beakley for all subsequent rules." Uh, what? "I'm please to have you here, as long as it in no way inconveniences me. Good day." I opened my mouth, only for him to exit the room as fast as this weird meeting started.

"I-he just-ugh! He's impossible sometimes, honestly," I muttered, crossing my arms and glaring disapprovingly at the door.

"This may be Mr. McDuck's mansion, but it's my house. So," Mrs. Beakley flipped the board, and I jumped back in alarm. That's… a lot of rules. Why would we need a diagram? "Exhaustive. Comprehensive." A chair screeched along the floor, and we looked up to see Donald walking away from his seat. "Where are you going?"

Donald held up-okay, I really hope it wasn't underwear. The guy doesn't even wear pants. N... neither did Scrooge, now that I think about. "I got unmentionables to wash."

"Rule 58: if you need something, ask for permission first." Donald flipped the cloth of his shoulder, and smirked back at his nephews.

"Did you hear that, boys? Ask permission," he mocked.

"Rule 23: no one is above the rules, Donald." Wow, she even went and underlined it. She thought of everything. "If you had simply asked for assistance, we could've avoided what I'm referring to as the 'undergarment incident'." The kids laughed behind him, and I tried to cover a laugh as a ragged cough.

"I can take care of myself," Donald retorted. Mrs. Beakley abandoned the board, walking over to him.

"That is not your decision to make. You live here, you answer to me," she ordered.

"I answer to no one!" He screeched. Standing as tall as he could, he and Mrs. Beakley glared angrily at each other.

"Wait, are they gonna kiss?" Sputtering, I held my sides in laughter at Louie's question. The kids made disgusted sounds, and their guardians turned to look at them.

"Outside. Now." Pointing at the door, the four quickly scrambled out of their chairs and dashed out. Once Webby closed the door behind her, I glanced at the two scowling ducks. I'm going to have to try and defuse the situation, aren't I?

"Donald, Beakley does have a point. I really don't want a repeat of this morning." If I didn't have feathers to mask my red face, it'd be too soon. "She's been here the longest, and a lot of what she says makes sense." Mrs. Beakley gave him a smug smile, seeing that I was in agreement.

"You don't live under her roof either," he pointed out, frowning at who I was siding with.

"Well… neither do you. What do you call that boat out in the pool?" Retorting, I mentally applauded myself. "As much as this delightful banter amuses me, I have errands to run. See you in a few hours. Two, three tops." Turning, I marched out of the room and closed the door as fast as I could. Good thing about the coffee mission. The place Scrooge liked me to purchase the grounds was a small but popular shop downtown. He ended choosing that place over his old brand due to how much I raved about it when I was younger.

Now, due to its location, I couldn't easily walk to it. The mansion was a fair distance away from the hustle and bustle of the city, so walking was out of the choice of options. I didn't want to be gone all day. Which meant... "hehehe." I had to head out to the garage and take my ride. Yes! "Hello, sweetheart. Let's go for a run, shall we?" Throwing on my helmet and slinging a leg over the seat, I revved the engine. Ah, listen to that purr. Hitting the garage button on my key chain, I gave one last rev before zooming out of the room and off the property.

Driving a motorcycle certainly gets you more than a few odd looks in Duckburg. And this is even more so when said the driver works for Scrooge McDuck. Funny thing was, I never bought the bike. The black, sleek machine was one of the few things I got in the will. My parents had left ownership of the house, which… didn't help me much there. But there was money that came my way, and other things like jewelry, mom's car, and dad's bike. The car, a gray, two seater, was used for business. When I had to look more professional. The motocycle was mostly for fun, but I did use it for when I wanted to get to destinations a lot faster. An example being the coffee runs. I had to buy a helmet on my own, and I made sure it matched my beanie in color.

I was fine with standing out. I was respected, and a worthy enemy. Just ask Flintheart Glomgold! Here we are, I thought, looking ahead to the left. Pulling into a free spot along the curb, I turned off the bike and pulled the helmet off. Shaking my feathers free, I tucked the headgear under my arm and headed into the shop. "Morning, Sky! Usual, please-oh! And one iced coffee, if you don't mind." Never really had much for breakfast today. Everyone was up and at it before Scrooge, which… was odd. Guess that Atlantis trip really tired him out.

An ash gray bird poked her head over at me from within the store room in the back, and grinned. "Right on it, kid! Be right there!" The normal crowd was here, seeing that I recognized quite a few faces. The shop was a family business, run by the Featherstones. Sky was a few years my senior, and recently became the head of the store once she was of age. Where I was still in grade 10 when I became Scrooge's assistant, she had just graduated my school. Not sure how we became… friends. We never really hung out in class, but with all of the times I came here, we ended up bonding over my weird tales of working for Scrooge.

Leaning against the counter, and waving at one of her aunts as she was dealing with a customer beside me, Sky came dashing back with two bags of the grounds and my drink. Her long head fathers were expertly done in a braid, draped over her shoulder, and her eyes sparkled in merriment. "Thanks, Sky. You wouldn't believe the day I've been having." Tapping my card against the pad, I quickly took a long sip from the cold beverage.

"I can tell. You seem more overworked than normal." She chuckled, and I playfully stuck my tongue out. "What is it? Beagle Boys? Flintheart? No, no, I got it. Is it… the boss doesn't want to spill family secrets?" I blinked. "I'm right?"

All I did was blink. How did she take that as a sign she was right? "Pretty close. His estranged nephew and his sister's kids moved into the mansion. They're triplets, Sky. All boys. Webby is going nuts with this." Sky went to speak, but snapped her beak shut.

"Wait, his nephew? You mean-?"

"The same guy Webby raved about in her stories about the McDuck clan. I left the mansion after Beakley and him got into an argument about rules and proper methods of washing clothes." The woman made a face, and I laughed. "Yeah, you weren't there. It was-eugh. I wish I could erase that from my memory." My phone buzzed in my jacket, and I nodded absentmindedly. There goes the alarm. "Well, I've killed enough time here. Best to get back to work." Downing my drink and ignoring the freezing in my throat, I headed for the door. The bell jingled overhead, and I waved behind me. "See you, Sky."

"Bye, girl! Have fun, and try not to lose your mind!" Yeah, too late for that. Tossing the bags into the small trunk on the back, I got back onto the bike. And away we go! Coffee trips were a weekly thing for me. Whether I needed more grounds for the drinks, or I went there on my breaks and days off. The fact I did this on a regular basis-sometimes against my will-led to me smelling like the shop itself. No one has yet to notice; and if they have, they didn't let me know.

Pulling through the gate out front, I brought the bike back around to the garage. "See ya, precious." I patted the warm leather seat, hooking the helmet onto the handlebars. I moved to the back to grab the beans, and sighed. "Time to go check on the rage and the bemused." Now where would Donald and/or Mrs. Beakley be? "Hmmm… oh! Scrooge!" The duck was just ahead of me in the hall, back in his robe with a towel in hand. "Have you seen Beakley anywhere? I wanted to talk to her." He let me catch up to him, and we started off again.

"I believe she's watching Donald make a fool of himself. Doubt he needs any help in fulfillin' that." Restraining a comeback, I spotted the older woman at the bottom of the first second flight of stairs, looking out the window with a cup of tea.

"Perhaps we could put your nephew up in a hotel. In New Zealand."

"No time. Guest bath's-a-callin'. Beakley problem." He went up the stairs on the other side, and she groaned. Chuckling, I glanced out the window.

"How… why is the water on fire?"

"Generators." Ah. So, the guy was trying to prove a point here.

"I'll get the fire extinguisher." I passed the bags over to her. "Can you please put these away? Thanks." Not waiting for a reply, I headed off to the entrance to the courtyard where the pool was. Stopping to grab the red canister from its place on the wall-Scrooge kept them all over the manor for such emergencies-I opened the door and waltzed to the boardwalk leading to the houseboat. "Here!" I threw it up to Donald, who quickly caught it and began dousing the fires. I made my way on board, the wooden beam creaking under me, and I raised a brow. "You aren't making this easy on you or Beakley, are you?"

"I'm not admitting defeat!" He shouted back, putting out a small blaze. "I can perfectly take care of myself!"

"Hey, not saying you can't, Don. It's just that I'd rather not see the boys uncle get roasted alive in this petty feud." The last of the fire out, he sat the extinguisher down and turned to me.

"It's not petty," he argued. Oh, really? You're sounding like a child right now that isn't getting his way. "And why are ya doing that?"

"Wha-oh. You mean the nickname?" He nodded. "Because I can. Plus, it's fun to ruffle your feathers." I laughed at his annoyed glare, before a loud thump hit the deck behind him. "Huh?" Looking behind him, we saw a brick with a paper tied to it. "What's that?" Donald picked it up and broke off the paper, reading it over while mumbling some of the words to himself. Suddenly, he gave a startled quack, and grabbed my hand. "Whoa! Hey! Don-ah!" The drake dragged me back through the door I came from, and we rushed down the hall before skidding to a stop. "Donald, what is-?"

"Scrooge, the kids!" Donald banged on the guest bathroom door. "The Beagle Boys!"

"The what!?" Not those guys again! I hated it when those dogs tried breaking into the mansion to go after Scrooge's fortune-wait. "Donald, Webby's with them! We gotta tell Beakley!"

"Well, where is she!?" Donald yelled back.

"Th-the kitchen!" The two of us dashed through the maze of halls before skidding into the room. Mrs. Beakley was cutting some cucumbers, and looked up as she saw us come in.

"Mrs. B., a brick, a note!" Donald waved the paper around, too panicked to talk straight.

"Look who's finally coming to ask for my-"

"HELP!" Donald screamed the word, and shoved the paper into her hands. Her eyes narrowed, and I prayed that the Beagle Boys knew what was coming their way for taking Webby. An angry Beakley is not something to be taken lightly.

"What is a Funso?" She looked to us for an explanation, but shook her head. "Donald, go get your car ready. April, dear, get your bike."

"Yes, ma'am." I split off from Donald, and headed back to the garage as fast as my webbed feet could carry me. Throwing myself onto the motorcycle, I jammed the helmet over my beanie and face, and put the keys back in. "Alright, girl. Let's see how fast you're feeling."

Who knew popping a wheelie while driving off to beat up a family criminal organization felt so great? Following behind the station wagon, we headed down towards the pier. I knew a little about Funso's. It was a kid's restaurant with games, pizza, and a giant play structure. It made perfect sense the kids would be there. I swear, if Ma Beagle lays one finger on her head, I'm gonna tear her limb from bloody limb. Wow, I am bloodthirsty when I'm ticked.

The car came to a halt at the end of the dock where the building was, and Mrs. Beakley and Donald ran out. Two of the Beagle Boys, one large and beefy, the other one scrawny and slightly shorter, slowly marched up to them. Okay, let's think about this carefully. I have no weapons, but that never stopped me before. What's my course of acti-what the heck!?

Donald's white feathers were red with rage. Like, literally, his entire head had turned beet red. The moment the color faded, he gave a loud cry, jumping up and down and waving his fist in the air like he had done when we were in Atlantis. "Waaaugh! Give me back my boys!" He launched himself at the larger man, punching and pulling at his face. Abandoning my bike, I walked over to Mrs. Beakley, who watched with an amused face. The duck, with speed I didn't even know he possessed, was running rampant over him and then jumping to the other. The scrawny Beagle Boy fell to the dock, and I grinned at how much trouble Donald was causing them.

"I guess he can take care of himself." Mrs. Beakley cracked her knuckles, and with a battle cry charged forward and did a roundhouse kick on the larger man. Falling to the ground, he drew a knee to his chest in pain. As the other criminal got to his feet, he was immediately faced with a 540 reverse kick in his chest, knocking him across the dock where his head hit the guardrail.

"One down, one to go. My turn." Once Donald was out of the path, I tackled the larger man as he tried to stand back up, and rammed a fist into the side of his head. The force flew his head back against the ground with a loud crack, and he laid there unconscious. "Man, that felt good." Mrs. Beakley and Donald had already started running to the front door, and I jumped off the Beagle Boy and followed behind them. Throwing open the doors, we were ready for whatever Ma Beagle had ready. We were definitely not ready to see the crime boss and one of her sons in traps dangling over the ball bit, with the four children smiling at us.

"Boys!" Donald walked over to them, squeezing the life out them. Mrs. Beakley and me walked over to Webby to observe her handiwork, smiling.

"A slip stitch. Good choice, dear." She patted Webby's head, making her smile wider.

"Thanks, granny." I giggled, and pulled out my phone.

"I'll go alert the police. But first." Aiming it and making sure the lighting was alright, Webby laughed as I took a picture of Ma Beagle. The crime boss struggled harder against the net she was stuck in, making me grin harder. "Oh, Scrooge is gonna love this."

(Time Skip)

"Now flip the circuit on the boat's panel and you'll have power." Mrs. Beakley closed the circuit panel on the side of the mansion, and turned to Donald and me. I didn't have to be out here to see this, but I figured it wouldn't hurt. In case they decided to go against each other again.

"Thanks, Mrs. B.," Donald said sheepishly. "Hey, how does a housekeeper know so much about electricity and taekwondo?"

"Oh, simple. I'm a spy." Mrs. Beakly laughed as if it was the greatest joke she ever told, and I giggled alongside her. Donald laughed too, but he seemed more confused, wondering if we were being serious. Hehehe. As if he'll ever get a straight answer from either of us. Mrs. Beakley headed back inside, and I grinned at Donald.

"You're never gonna get a good answer to that. About her being a spy." Rolling his eyes, he began to head back to the houseboat. "Hmmm." Not seeing myself as properly dismissed, I followed him up the ramp and inside. Things were… burnt, but it could have been worse. Different colored walls varying from beige to a green and orange striped. The floors were made of wood, and there was a small hall branching off to the side. Probably where their bedrooms are. Cramped, definitely, but it was cozy. Not too horrible, but I could see why he was desperate for a job. Donald headed to the control panel up front, and after flicking a switch had the lights working again. "It's… hard, living here at first," I said, watching from behind. "But it's not so bad. It took a while for me to adjust, but I think it shouldn't be too hard for you." After hearing what the man had gone through, he seemed to be able to adapt in situations out of his control.

"Well, at least we have one other thing in common." Donald glanced back at me, closing the circuit board. "We both want our kids safe."

"Wait, our ki-you think Webby's my… ha ha ha!" I laughed at the idea, probably scaring the poor drake. "Webby's not my daughter. Geez, how old do you take me for? She's like a little sister. We're not even related."

"Oops. Sorry." We stood there, and I bit my cheek at the growing awkwardness. He seemed to see it too, and gestured to the booth beside him. "Uh, wanna sit down?"

"Sure." The fabric of the cushions was worn, and some of the sponge was falling out, but it was comfy. "You mean a lot to them, don't you? I've seen Mrs. Beakley get protective over Webby, and I tend to fall in the same boat as her, but man, were you angry!" I'm going off on a limb here, and say that Donald is one prone to temper tantrums. Might be a family thing though. I've seen Scrooge get wound up like that a few times, but not as consistent as Donald. "That was brilliant back there."

"Hehehe. Thanks," Donald replied, accepting the compliment. Though, it did seem he was a little self-conscious about that. Being complimented on one's temper isn't exactly normal. Then again, nothing about this family is normal. "You weren't so bad either."

"I live with Mrs. Beakley, who was the influence in Webby's behavior, and Scrooge McDuck. I get a little on the jumpy and paranoid side with the girl's surprise attacks, and with the many enemies Scrooge has, one has to learn how to defend herself. I'm a lot stronger than I look." Flexing my fingers in and out of a fist, I could still feel the contact I made with the Beagle Boy's face. "Pretty sure I should go and do something to fix my hand. I think I either broke or at the very least sprained something."

"Then let's go to the kitchen to get you some ice." He got up from his side of the table, and headed back to the door.

"Okay." I walked out after him, and grinned. "Don't suppose you'd be up for a cup of coffee? Help calm the nerves after our little escapade?" Donald seemed to brighten at the offer, nodding enthusiastically.

"Sure! Featherstone, right?" He glanced back at my confused expression, and laughed. "Anyone ever tell you you smell like their shop?"

"I, uh… actually, you're the first to ever notice." A teasing grin crossed his bill, and he waited for me at the manor's door.

"Then let's go, coffee girl." Coff-oh, this is payback for the nickname, isn't it? "Ha ha ha ha!" Well, at least I don't laugh like a dying cat.

"Fine then, sailor boy." I punched Donald in the arm with my good hand, and I chuckled as he went immediately to grab it. Hehe, yeah. I hit hard. "May the best duck win." Ah, he's doomed himself.

So, it isn't a very long chapter. Not all of them are going to be as huge as the episode one chapters.

I've been working on how old exactly Donald and the triplets are. Seeing how their mom vanished ten years ago, they must have only been several months old when Donald began taking care of them. For how this story works, I'm picturing Della and Donald being in their mid-twenties when this Spear of Selene thing happened, which means he would be in his mid-thirties now. Say, 33 or 34. As for Scrooge's age... really, do we even have an idea? I've got nothing.

Until next time!

Angel