Four years ago

The brown-feathered duck in the pale blue suit and sunglasses sat on one side of the table, reclining in a wicker seat with a lit cigar in his beak.

Pedro sat on the other end, his expression calm and relaxed behind his own shades.

They were sitting on either side of a glass table on a balcony of a mansion, a glass of wine before each of them. The afternoon sun bore its light down upon them, illuminating the beautiful garden of Don Emilio's mansion, walled off from the rocky desert that surrounded it. Behind Pedro stood Ignacio and Carles, both of them warily watching the man on the other side of the table. The Don was shadowed by three of his own mercenaries, all of whom were watching the three of them impassively.

"So," Don Emilio spoke, speaking Spanish. "Not only do you ignore me for two weeks to go to some peasant village in the middle of nowhere, but when you do return to me, you tell me that you have failed."

"I'm afraid so." Pedro replied evenly.

The Don removed the cigar from his beak, glaring at Pedro from behind his sunglasses. "I was told that you were the finest mercenaries in the country. That enemies of the cartel would sooner cower and surrender rather than face you. Yet, you're telling me that you failed to overcome a single old man? How the hell does that happen? Can you explain that to me, Señor Guerrero?"

Pedro waited until the man had finished shouting before he calmly responded, "I do have an explanation, Don Emilio. The man we were fighting, this McDuck, had brought his grandchildren with him. None of them could have been older than thirteen. He hid behind them like a coward, using them as a shield and preventing us from using lethal force against him."

"How?" Don Emilio demanded. "How did a gang of children prove to be your undoing?"

"These were no ordinary children, Don Emilio." Ignacio insisted before Pedro could speak. "One them, this girl, fought with the strength of a full-grown man and the speed of a tiger. We lost one of our own to another."

"The words you speak say far more about your skills than they do about these kids."

Ignacio started to argue back, but a combined glare from both of his fellow mercenaries shut him up quickly. Pedro turned back to face the Don, saying, "I understand your frustration, Don Emilio, but the fact is that we could not in good conscience bring harm to-"

"To hell with your conscience!" Emilio roared. "Do you have any idea what kind of power laid in that crown? Can you even comprehend what you have cost me with your failure? You have certainly not lived up to your legacy, Guerrero, especially considering who your father was! He would not have failed me like this!"

Pedro felt his eye twitch with his rising anger, which he forced down. Keeping his tone as neutral as possible, he replied, "Well, I am sorry, Don Emilio. But I am not my father."

The Don glared at Pedro in silence. Then, he leant forward and snarled, "You are lucky that my cousins think so highly of you. If I had taken this impertinence from anybody else, I would have fed you to my chupacabras!"

"I understand." Pedro replied. "I apologise that we have failed you, and I thank you for your patience."

"Ha! Patience!" Emilio snorted, leaning back in his chair. "My patience with you has run out, and you can be sure that I won't be hiring you in the future. That crown is gone to me, trapped in McDuck's clutches. That, I will not forgive you for. Now, get out of my sight."

Pedro nodded respectfully towards the crime lord, standing out of his chair. He walked away slowly, Ignacio and Carles following behind him. He was confident that the Don would not try anything foolish, though he was still keeping an ear out just in case.

Once they had left the man's earshot, Carles turned to the others and asked confusedly, "He… he knows chupacabras don't exist, right?"

Pedro didn't answer, He turned over his shoulder towards Ignacio, who cowed underneath the glare. "I'm sorry, Pedro." He said quickly. "I spoke rashly. It won't happen again."

"See that it doesn't." Pedro growled, returning his gaze forward.

As they left the mansion and made their way towards their car, Pedro found himself replaying the Don's words in his head, over and over, each time more intensely than the last.

You have not lived up to your legacy, considering who your father was!

I am not my father.

They stepped into their car, Pedro taking the driver's seat. The engine started with a shuddering roar, and he slowly drove the car out the front gate and down onto the road.

I am not my father.

Pedro gripped the steering wheel with an angry intensity, staring down the road as they drove. His mercenaries were silent, only just now releasing their held breaths as they left the estate.

I am not my father.


Chanda sat silently at the bus stop, her fist clenching, relaxing, and clenching again. The envelope of money was tucked into her jacket, feeling heavier than it actually was.

She looked at the bus schedule, plastered onto the side of the shelter that enveloped the bench. The next bus was due at four forty-five.

She took out her phone and looked at the time. It was four thirty.

Chanda sighed in frustration, tapping her foot impatiently and shoving her hands into her jacket pockets.

She didn't notice Louie approaching until he took a seat beside her. When she did, she kept her gaze averted, trying not to look at him. Louie, meanwhile, seemed to be ignoring the awkwardness of the encounter, a wide forced smile on his beak and a twitch to his eye.

"So…" He began, far too cordially. "Doofus Drake, huh?" He turned toward her with his plastic grin. "How'd that happen?"

"…Thought he already explained that." Chanda muttered in reply, not looking at him.

"Yeah, yeah. Met him through some guys at school. I feel like that isn't the whole story though. Feel like there's some due clarification." He replied with an icy calmness. When Chanda didn't respond, he added, "Relax, Chanda. I'm not mad at you, really."

"I don't really care if you are." Chanda replied bluntly.

"Hell, I actually respect the hustle." Louie continued, ignoring her. "Not many people get the chance to pull the rug out from under me like you did. It's just that… you kinda fucked me. Like, significantly. I was all on board on making a tidy sum of money that I was perfectly willing to share with you, and you fucked me. For that, I think I'm owed an explanation. At the very least."

Chanda turned to glare at him heatedly, saying, "I don't owe you anything. You got duped. I got what I wanted. Deal with it."

"Deal with-?" Louie lent forward, dropping the air of friendliness and snarling, "What the hell is your problem? You're the one who tricked me! You're the one who's working for Doofus Drake! What gives you the right to treat me like I'm the bad guy?"

"I don't have to explain anything to you!" Chanda snapped. "You dug around in my life, threatened my mother, roped me into a job that you couldn't even do right! You're no better than him, you're just another spoilt brat who treats other people like playthings."

"Oh, come on. I'm a shitty person, I'll happily admit that, but I'm not Doofus Drake."

"You're not much better. I saw the way you looked at those people in the caravans. You scared of them, Louie Duck? Do you think every poor or homeless person in Duckburg is a mugger or a thief?" When Louie didn't respond, Chanda turned away, growling, "Just leave me alone. One rich asshole is more than enough for me."

"I don't think you get that the two of us are in the same boat." Louie argued, not giving up. "You wanted to be equal partners, remember? Then-"

"Partners?" Chanda grabbed him by the collar and pulled him into her face. He blinked, startled, as she shouted at him, "Get this through your head, dickhead - we're not partners! I pretended to work with you! I don't need you anymore, and you don't need me! Got it?"

Louie glared right back, replying darkly, "Yeah, unfortunately for both of us, that's not true. Because I'm your only way out."

Chanda didn't say anything. She just glared at him.

"You're not working for him because you want to, right?" Louie guessed. "You're working with him because he's blackmailing you, or because there's no-one else you can buy from, or whatever. You want that statue just as much as I do, because that statue's is the only ethical way you're getting your mom's meds. Admit it. Doofus wouldn't have taken that thing if he didn't think you were gonna take the money and run."

Seeing a flicker of hesitation in her eyes, Louie kept going. "You want that forty-K? You want to buy meds without relying on drug money? Then you need that statue. And you need my help to get it back."

"Why should I trust you?" Chanda demanded, her eyes narrowed.

"I have not said a single lie to you yet." Louie replied flatly.

"Okay. I'll rephrase – why are you trusting me? Like you said, I just screwed you over, not ten minutes ago. Why should I trust that you won't try to screw me back the second you have the chance?"

Louie chuckled, admitting, "Because you're the only one who'd even want to help me. I have no choice but to trust you."

For almost a minute, Chanda remained silent. Her glare remained focused on him, unwavering and unrelenting.

"…If I help you… we go back to the original plan?" Chanda slowly clarified.

"Exactly. You still get your mom's money, no strings attached. I'll even bump up your share to twenty percent. That's at least… uh, eight-thousand bucks!" He shrugged and gave her a cunning smile. "Deal?"

Chanda leaned in, her beak almost pressing up against his.

"Fifty-fifty." She challenged.

Louie inhaled sharply, gritting his teeth as he searched her face for any chance that she'd compromise.

"…Fifty-fifty." He grumbled reluctantly.

She released him, asking, "What do you want to know?"

Louie brushed himself down, backing away slightly as he did. "Well, for a start, you can explain how you got yourself into this situation to begin with. He said that there were two other kids who worked for him?"

"Yeah. Two older boys." Chanda replied, her tone revealing her distaste for them. "They didn't go to my school, though. They were rich kids, same as Drake."

"And what, they sold Doofus's… 'wares' for him?"

Chanda nodded, saying, "I bought the medicine through them. Or, rather, I got the money for the meds through them."

"And what happened to those kids?"

"One of them tried to rip off another guy in my year. They got into a fight, it got ugly, and both him and the other guy were sent to hospital. Think the other one got cold feet, 'cause I never saw him again. Either way, it left me with nothing."

"And then you went to Doofus to buy directly." Louie deduced.

"Not immediately. First… I went to you."

She turned to look at him, and Louie's eyes lit up in understanding. "Oh… oh, you started working for him recently!"

"I had heard the boys talking about you before, about stuff they'd heard from Drake. He called you… like, the only person that understood him. Something weird like that. They seemed to think that you sold drugs, so… that's why I went to you."

"And you didn't know anyone else who dealt, hence your freak-out when you learned that I was legit."

Chanda gave him an annoyed look. "I didn't 'freak out'."

"Sure. You just threw my stuff off the table 'cause you felt like it." Louie leant back, feeling like he was understanding things a little better. "Okay. So, is that when you went to Doofus?"

"That's thing – I never went to him. He came to me." Chanda exclaimed. "He called me on my phone – no idea how he got my number – and he told me that he knew that I'd seen you and that he had a job for me. I don't know how he knew. It was like he'd been watching us, or listening in."

"Yeah, that's Doofus Drake for you." Louie replied with a grimace. "Guess that means he's been spying on one of us. Maybe both of us."

"Urgh." Chanda muttered with a scowl. "Creep."

"Here's something that I don't get." Louie said slowly. "Usually, when you buy something, you don't get the cash to buy it from somewhere else – you just get the thing. The way you're talking about this, it sounds like you were getting paid, not paying. Is that accurate?"

Chanda looked away, staying quiet.

Louie leant forward and pressed her, "What did you do for him?"

"…Nothing that I'm proud of." Chanda muttered.

"Like?"

"Like beating up kids who wouldn't pay, alright?" Chanda snapped angrily, whirling back around to him. "Guarding those assholes while they doled out drugs, hiding stuff for them, lying for them, protecting them even when I hated them. Is that what you want me to say?"

Louie leant back, giving her a cold look. "More like what I hoped you wouldn't say. You seriously helped him with this?"

Chanda stared at him for a moment. She leant in, her eyes narrowed, and she demanded in a low voice, "What the hell gives you the right to talk to me like you're some kind of saint? You were born a rich, white duck with an easy pass into life from the word go. You've never had to worry about keeping up with rent, or medical bills, or fucking anything that ordinary people have to deal with, and- and- fucking hell, your uncle let you run his whole company when you were ten! It was all over the news! And the damage you did to downtown the same day-! You don't have the right to judge me, you have no idea what it's like to be desperate!"

There were a few corrections that Louie wanted to make to her accusation. He wanted to tell her that he lived on a houseboat for most of his life, that he wasn't rich until he met Scrooge, that he'd won McDuck Industries in a bet and it had technically happened when he was eleven…

…But there was something in Chanda's furious, almost distressed expression that made him hesitate.

"…Okay. You're right." Louie conceded with a sigh. "I guess I can't judge."

"Hmph. I think that's the first time I've heard you admit to being wrong." Chanda muttered, looking away again. She wiped her eye with her sleeve, asking, "Anything else about my life you want to poke your beak into?"

"No. I think you've told me everything I need to know." Louie replied. "Unless you know anything about Doofus that would help."

Chanda shook her head. "Only that he's a weird creep and a pervert who treats people like playthings. Think you already knew that."

"…Mostly. The 'pervert' thing is new, though." Louie replied warily.

"Oh, yeah. First thing he did when I met him in person was try to grope me. The only reason he stopped was because I hit him in the stomach."

"Okay… gross… and he wasn't mad about being gut-punched?"

"I think he let it slide because he needed me." Chanda's face twisted in distaste as she added, "…I… also think he might have been into it."

"Christ." Louie winced, running a hand through his headfeathers. "How has he gotten worse?"

The sound of an approaching bus engine interrupted their conversation.

"…What now?" Chanda asked him. "What's the plan?"

"No idea." Louie replied bluntly. "I think at the moment, all we can do is try and gather info on Doofus's operations. Figure out what we're working with. Until then, I don't think we can be seen together. Otherwise, Doofus will get wise to us."

"Assuming he doesn't already know." Chanda replied, looking around.

"He knows that I'll try to wriggle out from his grip." Louie agreed, giving the surrounding streets a quick scan as well. "The trick is to not to let him know that you're helping me. I'll see what I can dredge up on my end, you try to do the same on yours, and then I'll call you up and we'll try to figure something out."

"Alright… it's as good a plan as any."

The bus pulled up before them. Chanda stood up, then looked down at Louie. "…Look, I'm sorry I sold you out." She apologised reluctantly. "But I had to."

"…I know." Louie replied with a nod.

Chanda nodded back, then climbed up onto the bus. Louie watched the vehicle drive away, waiting a little bit for it to disappear down another street, before pulling out his phone and dialling Launchpad's number.


The Brew and Chew turned out to be an expensive coffee shop outside of Wildwood Mall. Most of Dewey's team had balked at the prices, but Trent had waved their concerns aside, telling them that he'd pay. He'd gotten himself a vanilla soy latte, and was calmly sipping at it on the other side of a wooden table, his arm draped across the back of his chair.

Dewey's team sat crowded around the other side, staring at him dumbfoundedly, their drinks untouched.

"You guys can talk, by the way." Trent told them jokingly.

"…Yeah. We know." Dewey replied dumbly. "We're just, kinda, uh…"

"Nervous." Pete said slowly.

"Amazed." Simon added blankly.

"Astounded?" Ted suggested.

"Really kinda, uh, taken aback." Dewey finished off.

"Yeah, I tend to have that effect on people." Trent chuckled. "But you can relax, really. I'm just an ordinary guy like you."

"Ordinary?" Dewey blurted out. "Dude, you are anything but ordinary! You were Feathered Hill's strongest batter for three years! You once hit ten balls out of the park in a single game!"

"We were unstoppable when you were on the team!" Simon gushed excitedly. "We never lost a single game!"

"You're kinda what inspired us to join the team in the first place." Ted admitted with a shrug.

"Really?" Trent replied with a cocky grin. "Nah, man. I'm nothing special."

"You're pretty awesome." Dewey countered, grinning.

"Eh. Pretty sure there's plenty of people at school who'd say otherwise."

"Yeah, but screw them." Dewey replied, waving his hand dismissively. "They don't know the whole story."

"The whole story… yeah." Trent murmured, looking down at his coffee silently.

"It was another guy who put the… stuff in your locker, yeah?" Pete inquired. "We heard it was a friend of yours who did it."

"Yeah… or, at least, I thought he was a friend." Trent sighed. "We got into a fight… I guess he figured this was the best way to get back at me."

"…I heard some of the older kids say it was over a girl." Simon told him.

"Always is." Trent replied lamentably. "I won't say who I was dating at the time, just that my 'friend' didn't like the fact that she was seeing me instead of him. We had an argument, I told him to shove off, and… yeah. The whole thing happened a few days later." He chuckled humourlessly. "And then, of course, my girl dumped me 'cause she thought I was some kind of drug dealer. Which sucked. Not as much as it sucked to not be part of the team anymore, though."

He went quiet. Dewey's smile slipped as he found himself feeling sorry for the older kid. Trent shook himself out of it quickly, though, saying with a smile, "Eh. It doesn't matter. We're not here to dredge up old shit, we're here to talk about the hot new shit!"

"The what?" Ted asked blankly.

"Look, lemme be real." Trent said, leaning forward on the table. "I go to Battlement Hill College, right? I'm part of the college baseball team – couldn't keep away from the game, you know – and, I won't lie… we haven't been doing all that well. Players have been dropping out, and we keep having to replace old guys with newer, less experienced players, and that's caused us to lose some pretty important matches."

"What?" Dewey gasped disbelievingly. "Your team lost? But… you were on the team!"

"I am. And I am pretty good. But a team's only as good as its weakest link." He winced. "And there are some pretty weak links in our team." Returning his attention to the ducks, he added, "So, I came out to my old stompin' grounds to scope out some new talent. And you know what? I think I found it."

Dewey blinked. He and his teammates looked at each other, then Dewey replied, "Woah, wait… you mean us?"

"You want us to play for your college baseball team?" Simon asked for clarification, confused.

"Well, not now, obviously." Trent explained. "But, if any of you were thinking of enrolling at B-Hill…"

"Yes!" Dewey declared immediately. "Totally been thinking about it for ages!"

"…Then, we might just have a spot open for you." Trent continued with a smirk.

"You're serious?" Ted said with an incredulous grin.

"Uh, we're still in eleventh grade." Pete pointed out hesitantly. "We're a ways off from thinking about college."

"You're coming up to the end of eleventh grade." Trent corrected him. "Semester ends mid-June, remember? After that is your final year. Trust me, man. You gotta be thinking about what you're gonna do after that. This, right here, is a golden ticket into an easy, smooth transition."

"What if we don't get into Battlement Hill?" Simon asked worriedly.

"Eh, you'll be fine. It isn't Harvard." Trent replied dismissively. He pointed at Dewey, adding, "Besides, you'll have a good word from me and my frat, and this guy here is the nephew of the richest dude in town. That's gotta count for something."

"Oh, totally, man!" Dewey said confidently. "College fees? No problem for my Uncle Scrooge!"

"Would he cover all of us?" Ted asked hopefully.

Dewey took a moment to think about it.

"Yes." He lied.

"Sweet, sweet… no pressure, obviously, there's still plenty of time to think on it." Trent told them. "Until then, the other thing that I was hoping to ask you guys is whether or not you'd be cool with me comin' in on a few training sessions, perhaps teaching you guys a few tricks? Givin' you a few pointers?"

"You kidding? That would be awesome!" Dewey exclaimed, interrupting Pete as he started to say something.

"Sure, dude!" Ted agreed.

"That would literally complete me." Simon whispered.

"Sweet!" Trent clapped his hands and standing up. "Thanks a lot, guys. Really means a lot."

"No, thank you, dude." Dewey replied.

"I gotta bounce, got something on with one of my frat buddies, but I'll talk to Bellows. He should be good for it!" Trent began to back away, shouting back, "Great meeting you guys, see you next week!"

The rest of Dewey's team bade their farewells as Trent left, leaving them at the Brew and Chew to come to terms with what had just happened.

After a moment, Dewey turned to the rest of his team and gasped, "Guys! What just happened?"

"I don't know, man!" Ted exclaimed, running his hand through his headfeathers. "Trent Bosman wants to train us?"

"How- what- oh, jeez." Simon stammered, clearly in a panic. "We're gonna be trained by Trent, I- we're not good enough for that, what are we gonna do?"

"Dude, obviously we're good enough for Trent, otherwise he wouldn't have offered!" Dewey told him. "You heard him, he thinks we're awesome enough for the Battlement Hill College team!"

"Do we know anything about Battlement College?" Ted asked.

"Only that I have to go there now!" Dewey exclaimed.

"I think a lot of people go to Battlement Hill." Simon said, "I mean, my cousin does, and that's what he says."

"Dudes… this is crazy." Ted murmured, leaning back in his seat.

Dewey turned towards Pete, about to gush something, then stopped as he realised that the sparrow was looking into the table, an uncomfortable expression on his face. Pete looked up at the rest of the team and asked, "Did he seem… weird to any of you guys?"

Everyone else stared at him, taken off-guard by their friend's wariness. "What do you mean?" Ted asked.

"I dunno." Pete muttered, scratching the back of his head. "Maybe it's just me, but I thought he sounded a little bit… off."

"I didn't notice anything." Simon said with a shrug.

Dewey frowned, suggesting, "Maybe it's just 'cause, like, we've all dreamed of this moment, or something like this, and we've got this, like, image in our heads of what Trent was like. Like in our heads, he was more of a celebrity or a superhero or something, but now that we've met him…"

"He's more of a person." Ted finished for him. "Like, I always thought he would be like, one of those guys who was kinda self-obsessed, but… like, there's a bit of that, but he's actually a nice guy."

"Exactly! Maybe it's like that, like… he's not exactly how you expected him to be, and that's throwing you off a bit?"

"…Yeah. That's probably it." Pete murmured in agreement, though Dewey noticed that he didn't seem particularly convinced.

Leaning forward, Dewey told him, "I get it, dude. It's surreal. I'm having trouble taking it in myself. But like he said, he's just a guy like us, and we should just try to act natural."

"That's not a bad idea." Ted agreed. "Just act normal, play normal… just let things play out."

"Exactly. He already knows that we're good, we don't have to try to impress him, so there's no reason to feel nervous. Come next week, we're gonna play like we usually do, and we're gonna knock his socks off again. 'Kay?"

"Alright…" Pete said with a sigh.

"If you say so." Simon agreed apprehensively.

"Was he wearing socks?" Ted asked confusedly.

Dewey clapped his hands, his grin betraying the eagerness and nerves he was trying to hide. "Awesome. This is gonna be… awesome."


Scrooge leant over the sink, his hands gripping the rim, running water pouring from the faucet with a hiss.

Beside the sink was an emptied glass and a bottle of pills.

He stared into the water gathering in the bottom of the basin, the magenta hue that had overtaken his vision slowly fading as he did. He forced himself to control his breathing. Slow, deliberate breaths. One at a time.

It wasn't as if he didn't know what had just happened. He knew full well what had caused it. But he was next to powerless to stop it.

Didn't Uncle Scrooge go there?

He winced. He was lucky that nobody else was around. If anyone from the family had seen that… well, there would be questions for a start. Questions that would be difficult to answer. And the medicine… the fact that he'd fallen showed plain as day that the medicine's effects were waning. He needed a solution.

And for that, he was entirely reliant on Gutefeder.

He took a few more moments to recover himself. Slow, deep breaths. Over and over until he was breathing normally again. Then, he reached over, took the pill bottle and put it back in his coat before turning off the water and walking out of the kitchen.

He immediately resumed his search, stopping by the dining room to pick his hat up off the ground. He dusted it off, put it back on his head, then kept marching.

His search was less urgent now, and he took to exploring the rooms more calmly. Now that he knew that Goldie was behind this, he was reassured that whoever had been home was safe. Restrained, certainly, and no doubt humiliated, but that would be the worst of it.

Eventually, his search brought him to his bedroom, a sneaking suspicion leading him to his wardrobe, used by Goldie to contain his housekeeper before. He opened it, and found within his missing family – Bentina, Donald, Della and Daisy, all of them bound, gagged and shoved haphazardly within the confines of the closet. All four of them turned to look at him as he opened the door, staring silently at him.

Scrooge slowly looked between the four of them. Then, he looked up at Bentina.

"…How?" He asked in disbelief.

Bentina glared back at him, both unable and unwilling to answer.

"I don't know." Daisy said irritably once she'd been freed. She rubbed her wrists where her bindings had been, muttering, "One moment we were having a cup of tea, the next… lights out. Next thing we knew, we woke up in that cupboard."

"Hm. Goldie's never used that trick before." Scrooge muttered as he untied Donald.

At this point, Bentina had been untied as well, helping Della out of her binds as well. She added to Scrooge's comment, "Which means that she didn't come here just to say hello. She wanted something."

"She always wants somethin'." Scrooge groaned, setting Donald's hands free. "She took the book on the Knights Templar, and the notes regarding that idol they're supposed to have."

"Whut?" Donald ripped the gag off of his beak, spluttering semi-coherently, "What does she want with that thing?"

"The riches? The thrill?" Scrooge suggested with a shrug. "I don't think she needs a reason other than to mess with me."

"If that's all she wanted, she would have stolen one of the antiques, not research notes for a children's adventure." Bentina replied, finally undoing the ropes around Della's hands.

"Don't think she can't do both." Scrooge growled. "I'm sure one or two of my treasures went missin' today."

Della's hands flew up to her gag, ripping off the cloth that had been tied around her beak. She then leapt up and down furiously, snapping, "Razza-frazzin-poison-using-coward! When I get a hold of her-!"

"Easy." Bentina told her sternly, prompting Della to fall into silence. She then turned to Scrooge and asked, "Well… what now?"

Scrooge blinked, surprised. "I would have thought that was obvious. We go after her!"

"What?" Daisy exclaimed.

"As soon as we can! Tomorrow, actually!"

"Tomorrow? Absolutely not!" Donald declared stubbornly, shaking his head. "The kids have school, remember?"

"Oh, come off it! You know full well kids don't learn anythin' on a Friday! They'll be fine!"

"Okay, but wasn't the whole point of this that the kids got to choose?" Daisy argued. "That they were active participants in the adventure, that they weren't just being brought along for the ride?"

"…Huh. That's a good point." Della agreed, frowning. "As much as I would love to punch Goldie's face in for slipping me knockout juice… it isn't fair to the kids if they want to go somewhere else."

All eyes turned to Scrooge. His beak opened and closed a few times before he proclaimed, "But we have to! Goldie's-!"

"Why?" Bentina challenged. "It's obvious that she's trying to lure you somewhere, almost certainly because she wants to steal something from under your nose. Why walk right into what she's planning? Where's the logic?" She folded her arms and narrowed her eyes at him. "…Or are you letting emotion cloud your thinking?"

"It's the principle of it!" Scrooge growled. "If I let this go, then that tells her that she can come on by and steal from me whenever she wants! Do you want to be constantly defending the manor from her thievery?"

"She has better things to do than harass you." Bentina countered. "And we have much better things to do than indulge… whatever she's up to."

"But-"

"If she wants your help with something, she can ask for it. Like a normal person." Daisy interjected. "But we're not going out of our way and disrupting our own plans just for her."

Scrooge started to argue back, hesitated, then sighed. Relentingly, he said, "Fine, fine. You're both right, as usual. If the kids want to go on one of the other adventures, then we'll leave Goldie to her own."

Bentina seemed to catch the condition in his sentence. Anticipating her question, Scrooge told her, "Of course, by your logic, if the kids did want to go to Portugal anyway… then we'd go regardless of Goldie was there, right?"

The rest of the adults looked up at Bentina, who huffed slightly and muttered, "I suppose so, yes…"

"Good! Now, let's get to searchin'!" Scrooge declared, clapping his hands and striding past the others. "Let's see what she swiped on her way out."