"Um…" Louie and Lena stopped amidst busy streets and towering skyscrapers whose tops were beginning to disappear in the growing darkness..
"Shoot," Lena muttered. "I can't see it from here."
"It was that way, right?" Louie said, pointing.
"I thought it was that way," Lena said, pointing in the opposite direction.
"I wish we still had that map…" Louie said.
"Maybe if we head this way we'll be able to see the Bin again," Lena said, pulling Louie down a side street in between a pair of buildings.
"You think we'll be able to see the Money Bin from here?"
"No," Lena said. "I think we might be able to see the Money Bin from here." They came out onto another busy street.
Louie slowly turned around. "Nope, can't see it from here, either."
Lena groaned in frustration. "Come on." They kept walking, peering between buildings in the hopes of a glimpse of the Bin.
"I hate not knowing where we are," Louie muttered.
"How do you think I feel?"
A purple mist began creeping up from the sewer grate.
Louie swallowed. "How long does it usually take for Magica to come back?"
Lena started to run away from the mist.
Louie followed.
More mist started rolling in, blocking off the width of the street. Lena and Louie skidded to a stop and pivoted in the other direction, but they were trapped by more mist.
"No, no, no, no," Lena said. They were surrounded on all sides.
"What do we do?" Louie asked. He moved himself so that he was standing back-to-back with Lena.
"Panic?"
"That's not helpful!"
"I'm sorry! I'm thinking!" Lena paused. "I've got nothing."
Once again, all-too-familiar laughter filled the air. "Running to old King Scroogie, I see."
Lena froze, her face fixed in a look of despair. Louie grabbed her by the wrist and ran.
"Ah ah ah! Not so fast!" The mist grew thicker in front of them, and Louie found himself unable to run, almost as if he were in a dream. "I'm not done with you yet!"
Gladstone watched out the window of the houseboat as Lena and Luc—Louie left the pier. He turned back towards Donald, shaking his head. "They don't deserve this," he said. "They don't…" He wet his beak with his tongue. "They're just kids. They shouldn't have to live out their lives in fear." He motioned to Huey and Dewey, who seemed to be trying to disappear into the shadows. "None of them should."
"We were doing just fine until you came along," Donald muttered.
"Were you really?" Gladstone couldn't keep his voice from rising as he gestured to the entire houseboat. "Do you really call this 'fine?'"
Donald crossed his arms like a petulant child. "I don't have to listen to you."
"Is this how you want to live the rest of your life? In fear and anger?"
"Hmph."
"Letting Magica come after you and Louie and Lena and the boys again and again?"
Donald looked away.
"These kids never did anything wrong," Gladstone went on. "Huey, Dewey, Louie, Lena—"
Donald's eyes flashes. "That witch—"
"That 'witch' is a child!" Gladstone's voice thundered through the houseboat. "A child who didn't know any better until she figured it out on her own! And then she changed! People can change, Don!"
"They change for the worse!" Donald shot back.
"Not Lena," Gladstone said. "And I know that Uncle Scrooge regrets the last six years more than anyone."
"How would you know? You only saw him for a couple of hours."
"Have you seen him at all?"
Donald was silent.
"I thought so," Gladstone said. He picked up the telephone and held it out to Donald. "It's time to change that."
Magica raised her hands. Louie could see the crackling magic gathering around them as if she were pulling it straight from the air. She drew her hands back, and suddenly, Louie found himself able to move again.
"Run!" he shouted, grabbing Lena by the arm once again and dragging her along.
Magica shot bolts of magic at them. Louie wasn't sure if it was luck or something else that kept the magic from hitting its mark.
"This way!" Lena said, veering off towards an alleyway.
"You think you can hide from me?" Magica's smug voice came echoing off the walls of the brick buildings that surrounded them. It almost felt like she was toying with them. A bolt of magic whizzed by, taking a chunk out of the corner.
"Come on!" Lena said, pulling Louie out the other side of the alley and onto the next street. Magica's laughter came chasing after them.
"Life's too short to spend it without the ones you love." Gladstone paused. "I should know."
Donald muttered something unintelligible in the back of his throat.
"You've already got Louie back, though you're about this close to losing him again." Gladstone held his thumb and forefinger about half an inch apart. "And Uncle Scrooge may be, well, a lot of things, but he's still Uncle Scrooge.
Donald shut his eyes tight. A tear slipped out.
On the sofa at the other end of the room, Huey and Dewey silently made eye contact. Exchanging a subtle nod, Dewey grabbed Magica's staff, and together they slipped unnoticed out the door of the houseboat.
"I know he made some awful choices all those years ago. We're all living with the consequences. But maybe we can start to move on from them. And if we can't…maybe the kids can. We owe them that much."
Donald remained stock-still for a long moment. Then he took a deep breath.
"Call him," he whispered.
Gladstone nodded. He slid his finger into the dial and input the number that Scrooge had written on the letter. It hadn't taken much for Gladstone to burn it into his brain. The clicks of the rotary as the dial spun back into place seemed deafening. Gladstone held the phone receiver to his ear.
Louie and Lena ping-ponged from one side of the street to the other, evading Magica's blasts.
"We can't run forever!" Louie said, desperately trying to catch his breath. He was starting to get a stitch in his side.
"Huh," Gladstone said, hanging up the phone. "Nobody's answering."
"Typical Uncle Scrooge. He probably told the operator not to let my calls through."
"Let me try again." Gladstone picked up the receiver and dialed once more.
Lena turned around to face Magica.
"You already got your revenge. Why isn't that enough? Why can't you leave us alone?"
"Why don't you join me, Lena? It's not too late. You can always come home," Magica said, beak curling into a sinister smile.
"I've been free from you for the last six years. I will never join you again!"
"We're one and the same. Two sides of the same coin, so to speak." Magica raised her staff and took aim. Lena and Louie dove out of the way.
"I'm nothing like you!"
"What do you mean, 'stepped out?'" Gladstone shouted. "This is important!"
"Give me that!" Donald snatched the phone from him. "Hi—yes—no—shut up and listen! We don't have time—you and I both know what that means—" Donald's face turned red and he started yelling into the phone, jumping up and down and thoroughly erupting like an angry volcano.
Gladstone glanced towards the sofa where Huey and Dewey had been sitting, hoping for some sort of clue about how to make sure Donald didn't destroy the phone, but instead, his eye caught on something out the window.
"Uh, Donald?"
"What?" Donald said, still seething.
Gladstone simply pointed.
The city was being enveloped by an angry, swirling, purple cloud, crackling with flashes of bright light.
"I think that might be why Uncle Scrooge isn't coming to the phone."
Donald gulped audibly.
"The Amazing Dewford arrives on the scene. He scopes out the battlefield and zeros in on the threat—Magica De Spell. Despite having fought her earlier this very day, the Amazing Dewford is in top form as he—"
"Will you shut up?" Huey cut in.
Dewey stuck his tongue out at him and turned back to Magica.
"Are you finished yet?" she was saying to Lena.
"Is that all you have to say?" Lena demanded.
Magica raised a hand to cover a yawn. "Yes. Now. If you don't mind." She raised her arms, and her hands again began to glow purple, almost blinding in the fading light.
"Take that!" Dewey shouted, pointing the staff at her.
Nothing happened.
Twin bolts of magic shot from Magica's fingertips and hit Louie and Lena square in the chest.
"She made it look so easy," Dewey mused, looking at the staff as if trying to figure out what went wrong.
"Dewey!" Huey yelled.
"I really must thank you for returning my talisman," Magica said. Her voice seemed to swirl around them, and was the mist getting thicker? "If you'll just hand it over…"
Lena groaned as she rose back to her feet. "Oh, no."
"What?" Louie asked, rubbing his chest where he'd been hit.
"This isn't good," she said.
"Clearly."
"Whoa!" Dewey said. The staff, all on its own, began pulling him towards Magica.
"Don't let her get it!" Lena shouted. She ran over to Dewey and grabbed onto him, holding as tight as she could. Huey threw his arms around her waist, and Louie rushed over to grab him. They dug their heels into the ground and pulled.
"Come on!" Gladstone grabbed Donald by the wrist and pulled him out of the houseboat.
The two cousins ran towards the growing purple cloud.
The wind picked up and whipped around the four ducklings as if it were trying to grab the staff from them itself.
"Don't…let…go!" Lena said, struggling to hang on to Dewey.
Familiar laughter echoed around them.
"Don't worry, children. I have all day," Magica sang. The wind grew stronger.
"So…just…theoretically," Louie began. "What'll happen if Magica gets her staff back?"
"Bad," Lena said.
"You saw what she did before at the pier," Huey said.
"Yeah. It'll be that all over again," Dewey added. "Pier Battle Part 2: The Amazing Dewford and his—"
"Not now!" said Huey.
"Sorry."
"That's what I was afraid of," Louie muttered.
The staff suddenly lurched forward, pulling the kids with it. Louie dug in his heels, but he still felt the ground slipping away.
"Can't…hold on…much longer!" Dewey said.
"You have to keep trying!" Louie said.
"What do you think I've been doing this whole time?"
"Don't let go!" Louie could hear the desperation creeping into Lena's voice.
A new set of arms encircled Louie's waist. "I've got you, Green Bean," said a familiar voice.
Behind Gladstone, another voice shouted something that Louie couldn't make out between the sound of the wind and the…well, Uncle Donald was just hard to understand, ok?
"Ready?" Gladstone shouted over the wind. "One, two, three, PULL!"
They pulled.
"One, two, three, PULL!"
They pulled again.
"One, two, three, PULL!"
They pulled, but this time, all the resistance tugging the staff in the opposite direction was suddenly gone, sending everybody tumbling backwards and the staff flying over their heads.
"Grab it!" Lena shouted, scrambling to get to her feet amongst the tangle of limbs in her way.
The staff clattered to the ground, bouncing end-over-end until it suddenly froze just inches from the cobblestone pavement. It reversed direction and floated up to where Magica sat atop her cloud of magic.
"Ah, that's better," Magica said, closing her fingers tightly around the staff.
Uncle Donald said something that Louie was pretty sure was unrepeatable.
Louie could see the magic course through Magica as if she were drinking it from the staff. The mist grew even thicker around her, making it harder and harder to see.
"Of course, I'll have to make sure it still works," Magica purred. She raised the staff and shot six identical bolts of sparkling, purple magic.
The one that hit Louie sent him tumbling head-over-heels. He groaned, feeling cool cobblestones under his cheek. He didn't want to get up. What were they supposed to do? Keep running? They couldn't run fast enough from Magica, not now. Not under the eclipse. If they could get to the Money Bin—but that was on the opposite side of the city. There was no way they could get there with Magica already on top of them.
Maybe if he lay still enough, Magica would think he was already dead…
"Hmmm," Magica mused. "What shall I do with you?" She stroked her beak thoughtfully. She held up her staff like an artist might hold up their pencil or brush to measure the perspective of what they were painting. "I've got it!" she said gleefully. "Oh, Scroogie will love this!"
Louie found himself being lifted to his feet. "Whoa—hey!" he protested.
Around him, Louie could see his brothers and uncles all being brought to their feet, as well, their bodies limp and soft like—
"Puppets," Louie whispered to himself in horror.