Disclaimer: Like I said, school keeps me busy. Don't expect another chapter to be out as fast. I haven't had much time to write.
ultima-owner: Hehe. Skynet.
RainbowCelin: So. Many. Midterms! I have four at the end of the month.
WolfGirl01: April gets a lot of snide comments due to her age and her job. They have nothing to do with her parents' death. That was not on purpose. The vultures had no part in it. Webby's knowledge… weird, but kinda cool?
Jarjaxle: This and my Gravity Falls chapter were being kind of… buggy. Same as a lot of other people, we were unable to see new reviews at the time. I re-uploaded in an attempt to fix the problem. More episodes should be out by the time I reach episode 9. With all these midterms coming up, chapters are coming out more slowly.
Be on the look out for a lot of references to old Donald comics.
"Speaking"
Thinking
"Oh, I'm so bored!" Smacking my head against one of the windows in the hall, I groaned loudly. "Where is everybody?" Last I had heard from Webby, she had gone with the boys to play at the beach. Mrs. Beakley was off cleaning, and Scrooge was probably dealing with his fortune. Like… he does all the time. He needs a break, honestly. Besides the Atlantis thing, he's been working non-stop.
It was getting late though. The sun was already starting to set, bathing Duckburg in an orange glow. But it was still too early to call it a night. "Hmm." Straightening up and rubbing the sore spot on my forehead, I looked out the window I stopped out. "I wonder…" I wasn't sure if the drake was out there, but hey, it beat hanging by myself for the next few hours. Continuing down the hall, I opened up the door to the courtyard and began walking around the pool, searching for any sign of life on board the boat. "Hey, Donald? Are you in there?"
"April? What is-wah!?" Donald's now-infamous cry-guy sounds like a dying cat, but I ain't telling him that-came from the boat, and I grinned as he tripped exiting the door, flying over the edge and into the pool below. His head popped out of the water, spraying the chlorine out of his mouth. I couldn't help it. I slapped a hand to my mouth, laughing. Donald gave me an annoyed glare and swam over to the pool's edge, climbing out. Shaking off the water and readjusting his hat, he turned to me. "Are you done?"
"I-I'm done, hehe. I was just wondering if I could talk with you for a while. Webby and the boys are out playing, and I'm bored," I admitted. Donald shrugged, and gestured to me to follow him back up the ramp. The boat certainly didn't smell like smoke anymore, and it was definitely cleaned up since I was last inside. Guess I know what he was up to when we went to the archives. Donald moved over to the kitchen area, and I took a seat in the booth. "What were you up to?"
"Makin' popcorn," he replied over his shoulder. The white feathered duck returned from the stove top, holding a large bowl full of said food. Setting it down, he moved opposite of me and tossed a piece into his mouth.
"Nice." I took a handful of the snack food, and began to eat them one at a time. So… what should I talk to him about-oh. Better do this before I forget. "Donald, your nephew Louie… is he always a flirt?" I blinked, watching him gag for a moment. Hitting his chest and dislodging the food, he gave me an alarmed look. Oh, so he didn't know. "Louie keeps giving me passes; winking, and flirty comments. Figured it was normal in his behavior or something."
"I-it is," he stammered. "But he doesn't normally do that unless it benefits him." Like he does it to gain stuff? Sweet talker, huh? "Unless…" he put a hand to his bill, looking away in thought. "Louie actually… oh no."
"C'mon, Don. What's wrong with a boy having his first real crush?" I smirked. "I mean, it's flattering, but he and I both know I'm way too old for him." It's also on me for being so sweet to him, giving him that dime of mine and cheering him up. "Kid will find someone more his age."
Donald turned back to me, lowering his hand. "How old are you, April?" I mock gasped, holding my free hand to my chest.
"Donald, how dare you! Don't you know you never ask a woman her age?" Cracking a smile at his deadpanned look, I answered his question. "25. I met Scrooge when I was in high school, down by the waterfront. Been here ever since."
"25," he repeated. "That explains why you were laughing when I thought you were Webby's mom." Nodding in agreement, I shoved the rest of my popcorn into my mouth. "I'm 34." Huh. That makes sense. He didn't seem to be in his 40s, but he was no doubt in his 20s.
"Then you received custody of Huey, Dewey, and Louie when you were 24, right?" Donald hesitantly nodded, and I frowned at that. "I won't pressure you, or anyone else in trying to figure out what happened ten years ago. It's just… whatever happened with you, your sister, and Scrooge was not long before I met him. He was certainly… depressed, I believe would be the right word. Neither of us really expected to find someone else in need of cheering up down at the docks. After a few choice words, he offered me a job: be his assistant, and live in the manor. With the money I now have, I could easily afford my own apartment, but I can't imagine leaving this place." Wills and all certainly helped when added on top of the paycheck I get each month.
"What about your family? Don't your parents wonder where you went?" I bit the inside of my cheek, shaking my head.
"They… died, a month or so before I met Scrooge. Electrical fire. It's why my feathers look like this. The random lighter brown patches are scars. I wear this coat to cover my arms, as they're the worst. Dewey figured it out himself a few days ago, but I… haven't really had the heart to explain it to him, or the other boys yet." Dropping my head, I stared at the table, deep in thought. "Wonder though… what they would think of me now? Never really imagined this was where my life would end up; working for the richest duck in the world, and dealing with the supernatural."
I was almost in a daze, until a hand was suddenly laying atop of my own. Bringing my eyes up, Donald gave me a sad smile. "Looks like we have more in common than we thought." Huh. Guess so. Family troubles, and just trying to take each day as it comes. Taking his hand back, he took another piece of popcorn. "What else do you want to talk about?"
"Uh, let me think… how about we just do something like ask one question, and the other person then asks one, and we go back and forth like that?" He nodded, and I pondered for a moment for a first question. "Favorite type of music?"
"Latin," he responded without a second thought. "I have some old friends form Portugal and Mexico that got me stuck on samba and other types. We even used to perform songs together. Called ourselves The Three Caballeros." Latin America? I've always wanted to do some traveling down there. Rio seemed really beautiful. But Donald singing? I don't think that'd be a very... pleasant thing to experience. "You?"
"Electro swing. It's not everyone's thing, but then again, I prefer the different and unique. Okay, so do you always wear sailor suits? Is that, like, a thing for you? Because Dewey showed me a picture of you in a blue version of the one you're already wearing." Donald seemed amused by my question, pausing to chuckle.
"I already told you I was in the Navy. Boats required a uniform, and I guess the sailor look stuck to me," he shrugged.
"Well, it is certainly better than the business suit I first met you in. No offense, but it didn't really suit you." The older duck got up from his seat, heading back other to the kitchen and began rummaging through the fridge. "What about your high school years?" Donald moved back over, and slid me a can of Pep.
"Depends. What's your opinion on math?" I grimaced at the question, sticking my tongue out. "It wasn't my greatest subject. History wasn't too bad. Uncle Scrooge's to blame for my interest. Late night studying led to an… interesting dream about being in the army during World War Two." Uh… okay? "What's your opinion on Scrooge?"
Okay, so now we're getting into more personal questions. "Well… he's certainly… eccentric, given the moment. He's stubborn, and easy to anger. Not too mention all the enemies the guy's made. But he… he didn't have to take me in. He could have just as easily left me be, but he didn't. He brought me back to McDuck Manor, and that was it. Whatever weird friendship we have, I'm perfectly happy with it. Sure, there's many a secret being kept from me, but if I'm to learn the truth one day, then why pressure for it now?" Donald nodded, thinking over my response. "Okay, I got one more question. How old is Scrooge?" Donald opened his mouth, but snapped it shut. Seriously, h-he doesn't know either? He scratched his head, and shrugged. "Oh, well. That's another thing I need to figure out about the old duck." I glanced out the window of the boat up front, and frowned. "It's getting late. I should probably head to the waterfront and go check up on Webby."
"I should go get the boys," he agreed. We got up from our seats, and headed towards the garage. "Do you want a ride?" Opening the door for me, we stepped into the large room. There was the station wagon, parked right beside my own car.
"Sure." I hopped into the passenger seat, buckling in as he started up the vehicle. With a press of a button, we drove out of the manor and headed out towards where the triplets and Webby last said they were. As we headed along the main road, and with the ocean approaching in the distance, I glanced over at Don. "Listen, do you think you can… gather the boys up tomorrow morning? It'd be a good idea to explain my little backstory to them all instead of one at a time."
"Of course," he replied, driving to the edge of the road to park. Climbing out, we looked around. It was almost pitch black now, with the sun having finally set. There were stars, but not many street lights. "This isn't…"
"Something's wrong here," I muttered, agreeing with the unsaid idea. "It's too quiet." I didn't have my bag with me, which meant no supplies like a flashlight or a pocket knife. All I had was my notebook and my phone. I could have used the flashlight setting, but that was way too bright. If there was something out there, I didn't wanna draw attention to us.
"What could be wrong?" Donald asked, voice low.
"I'm not sure. I just feel like we're-AAHHH!"
"WAAUGH!"
Just to be fair, I have be kidnapped before. Just once, but hey, that's to be expected with working for Scrooge. A second time, well… that was just pathetic. The Beagle Boys crept up on us, grabbing our arms and shoving gags in our mouths. I don't just mean the normal group of dogs that we ran into before. This was the whole nine yards. Every Beagle Boy in Duckburg was here. As the trio who attacked the kids at the pier tied us up at some destroyed stage by the water, pinning our arms to the same pillar across some girl who looked a few years older than Webby, we watched the large crowd set up for some sort of party.
The young duck stared at us in confusion, before hearing something behind her. "Mebby?" I exclaimed, mouth still covered with the cloth. What the-what is she doing here? The hen rushed up to the new girl, taking the gag away and letting her speak.
"Webby, you came!" Her voice was slightly lower than Webby's, probably a year or two older than my young friend.
"Like I could ditch you. We're the Beagle Birds." Not sure exactly what that means, but I'm guessing my little girl found herself a new pal. Webby grunted, tugging at the ropes binding her. She didn't even seem to notice me and Donald across from her. Stumbling back, I winced as she hit the stage lights behind her, turning them all on and lighting her up.
And of course, she got tied up too. "You two ladies have given us a lot of trouble tonight. But it'll be worth it when Ma sees her birthday gift." The short Beagle Boy from the net trap tied a red ribbon around the girls, each on a separate pillar, and stood up to admire his handiwork.
"And we got some early Mother's Day shopping out of the way too." The large one, who I clearly remembered was the one I socked right in the face, brought out his arm to reveal the boys in his beefy fist, upside-down. Donald squawked loudly, and began thrashing at his ropes violently. The boys and Webby finally took notice of us, and I glared harshly back at them. You are in so much trouble when we get back! I mentally screamed.
"Seriously, your rescue plan was to throw yourself blindly into the middle of the entire Beagle family?" The girl remarked in annoyance. As the boys were carted off, Webby cut her off before she could continue.
"How is that any different than what you did at the junkyard?" Webby asked.
"I wasn't tied up at the junkyard," she fired back. "Now I remember why I avoid family. All they do is-"
"Fight?" Webby interrupted. The girls froze, and looked at each other for a moment. Finally. With enough wiggling, I managed to loosen the blindfold, freeing my beak.
"Girls, as much as I'd love for this reconciliation to continue, I'd really like to get the heck out of here!" I hissed, not wanting to alert the criminal's attention.
The girl paused to think, before a sly grin crossed her face. "Yeah, I got one." She spoke up, gaining the Beagle Boys' eyes. Was she answering me, or whatever they were talking about? "Which one of you gets to hand us over?"
"Say what, now?"
"I mean, you could all hand us over and share the credit, or…" with that, we watched the family begin to argue. A fog machine was turned on in the soon-developed fight, and I looked back to the girls. Webby, with quick work, climbed backwards up her pillar and freed herself once she could pull her rope over to the other side. Ripping it to shreds with her teeth and freeing her wrists, she quickly began untying the mystery girl.
"Hey, uh, little help over here." The two ran over to us, and undid the ropes binding us together. Donald yanked the gag off, and we turned to the large Beagle Boy still holding onto the boys. "Don-?" The drake didn't have time to rush them, as the girls ran at the towering muscle. Webby tackled his face, making him stumble backwards and having him trip over the other girl. As he landed on the stage, unconscious, the boys rolled out of his hand.
"To the boat!" Huey shouted. Running past one of the Beagle Boys, and letting Webby shove him into the water, we all awkwardly climbed into the small rowboat, and began paddling as fast as we could away from the stage. Panting, the kids all sighed with relief, before remembering their newfound company. Donald and me, both with arms crossed, glared at the kids. "Uh… we can explain?"
"Just get us to the beach," I muttered. Rowing back didn't take too long, but the boat was taking water with how heavy its cargo was. Once we were close enough, I jumped into ankle-deep water, and walked back to the shoreline. "I just-Webby, you could have gone straight to me. Why the heck did you four go off against the Beagle Boys?"
"You better have a good excuse," Donald added. The kids murmured, trying to come up with a sound idea until the other girl raised her hand.
"They were coming to rescue me. It wasn't their fault." The kids quieted down at that, staring at her in shock. "That's what family's about, eh, Englabeth?" She elbowed Webby, who laughed at the terrible British accent.
"Oh, I knew you'd come through in a spot, Brittania," she replied.
"A li'l Penny-come-quick to get ya yet to be."
"Fluff and nonsense." The girls laughed, and we all stared at them in confusion. "You kinda had to be there." I looked to Donald, who seemed to be slowly calming down. Breathing deeply, his shoulders lowered from his tense state.
"Three days of houseboat cleaning," he informed the boys. "And I'm sure April will be informing Mrs. B. about your little adventure." Webby lowered her head, but nodded. "Come, boys." The triplets followed after him towards where we parked the car, and I looked back to the girls.
"You know, I would really like the name of my figurative little sister's new friend." The girl smirked, and held out her hand.
"Lena. Nice jacket."
"April. Nice hair dye," I grinned. "Let's go, Webby. Being tied up for who knows how long, I think it's almost dawn now." It was. The sun, barely visible, started peaking out over the ocean. "Don and the boys are waiting for us. It was nice meeting you, Lena." With a hand on Webby's shoulder, I led her towards the station wagon, the girl waving behind her. "You're not getting of freely for this."
"I had a hunch," Webby said with a giggle.
Yeah, that hunch was right. Mrs. Beakley was… wow, she wasn't happy. Not as angry as she could have been, but after explaining what happened, she gave her a light punishment: cleaning the kitchen and all of the washrooms in the mansion for a week. Not that hard of a chore, except there were almost half a dozen washrooms. However, right now… there more important matters to attend to.
Seven pairs of eyes were on me, as all of the residents in the manor were gathered around the dining table. True to his word, Donald had gathered the triplets for me to discuss the reason why I worked with Scrooge, and Mrs. Beakley, Scrooge, and Webby decided to join us. Webby only knew what her grammy told her, which wasn't very much.
Now? Now there wasn't much left to hide. Gave them a more extended version of what I had intially told Scrooge ten years ago, with details such as how the insurance was dealt with, what I wound up in possession of after the fire. And yes, yes, the boys found it extremely exciting that I owned a motorcycle. Why bother with details, when I had captured their attention so well, explaining why I was here, and how I was determined to continue working here in the long-run.
Things seemed… calm. The boys, while they didn't voice it, made it clear they sympathized with being without parents. True, they had Donald, but still. They-Dewey, I mean, never even mentioned his father. That should be another thing to talk about with Donald. If I can't bring up his sister's disappearance, then I could try and probe about other topics surrounding here. But… something still seemed off. I'm uncertain if it was the girl Lena, or the fact I'm still recovering from what happened last night, but... why does this all feel like a calm before a storm? Meh. I'm just paranoid. Scrooge is rubbing off on me way too much.
It's not particularly a long chapter, but the midterm rush made it hard to write. Other chapters should be longer, but there wasn't that much room in this episode for a full-length chapter of normal-size. I still think this went well.
Next chapter should take a while. While I'm off on study break to prep myself, I have four midterms, assignments, and a bunch of other stuff to get done. I'll be back as soon as I can.
Until next time!
Angel