As the motorboat neared the end of the forest riverway and closer to Duckburg, Bradford decided it was time for him to transform back into his old form. Coming in on a boat late in the day wearing a hulking, magical metal suit wasn't exactly what one might call "inconspicuous". He had originally given over the Sword to Heron to hold, causing him to return to his old form: hunched back, long and crooked necked, heavy body and blurred sight. But curiously enough, the Sword kept retreating from Heron's grasp and ending up in Bradford's instead, its purple aura causing him to transform again. He found it quite annoying quickly.
It wasn't until he "sheathed" the Sword into the bag that he was finally rid of its power, for now. Him shedding the armor and returning to normal almost felt as natural to him as first gaining the suit, but the loss of his strength, flexibility, and youth was keenly felt immediately, making him already miss holding the Sword more rapidly than he thought.
The boat finally came to the outer reaches of the harbor, with no other boats or people around to witness them enter the area. The sky was just starting to darken, but there was still light enough for them to be witnessed by those on shore, if there were any. Whatever boats that were around were too far away from the harbor to see them even from a distance.
Heron tied a bandanna over her hair to hide the majority of her face while Pepper took off her egghead helmet, revealing a mess of curly, ginger hair. The younger duck put over her orange uniform a blue and green hoodie she had packed as after-work clothes. Bradford himself kept a close eye on himself and April as they laid low. No one would be the wiser witnessing them cross the water.
As they got closer to shore, Bradford tentatively came out from his hiding place, the darkness now fully covering the shore. A fog was just beginning to rise over the water. "There," Bradford pointed for Pepper towards the near coast to a large vacation home hidden behind some stray trees. The usually quiet harbor seemed to be free of any people, to their luck.
"Land there and tie the boat to the docks," Bradford ordered. Pepper nodded silently and followed his directions, stopping the boat near an empty dock and prepared it for disembarking.
"No witnesses," Heron said under her breath to him after double checking their surroundings, placing the baby bag with the Sword in it over her shoulder.
"I'll go first," Bradford whispered, "then you two can follow my lead once the coast is clear. I'll wait for you both in front of the house; the trees will give us cover once we're past the docks."
Bradford completely covered April with a white blanket, and once everything was ready with the boat, he slinked out and led the trail towards his vacation home. He had told his "brothers" to wait up for him there weeks ago just in case he needed to take unexpected refuge there (he knew his chances were very likely in this case), or if Scrooge would ever come for a surprise call during his vacation (not as likely, considering how much the duck hated them).
Once they were all united by the front door, he quickly opened it and allowed all his exhaustion to hit him once he entered. His sights led him right past his gapping cohorts in the middle of evening tea, who were both not expecting him or his ruffled guests to come in uninvited. Buford looked so shocked, he dropped his teacup on the floor with a ting.
Bradford didn't care for the other two agents anymore as headed to his bedroom. They could both melt into the floorboards for all he cared. He didn't want to see or hear anyone for the next several hours, and he didn't want to reignite his slowly rising rage for both Heron and the entire loss of the lair. But even with his advancing steps, he heard his colleagues following them closely up the stairs.
"Leave me alone, the both of you," he whispered, reminding himself of the child still resting in his arm. But they didn't abate. Finally, as he walked down the hall and opened his bedroom door, he tried to force the door to close in Heron's face. She stopped it effortlessly, however, with her metal arm and he gave up in exasperation.
"Yeah, well, unfortunately you can't just get rid of us so easily, Mr. Director," Heron growled, leaning on the doorframe and crossing her arms, striking open the light switch dramatically. Pepper peaked through the door, unsure of what to do with herself as she witnessed the scene worriedly.
Bradford turned from her, retreated further into his room and placed a sleeping April on his king-sized bed. He then walked over to a table, leaned on it, and massaged his face tiredly. He felt all his years coming to rest on his bones, his joints aching him.
"Heron, please, if there's one thing I ask for you to do, is to leave me alone right now."
Heron hummed in an annoying fashion before saying, "No…no, I don't think I will."
Bradford clenched his fists in frustration and tried to control his breathing. He felt his face starting to rise in temperature. "Heron…not now."
She stepped forward. "You should've let her take the kid."
"Heron, no," he rubbed his face, attempting not to strangle Heron at that moment. "She could've been killed for all we know if neither of us came to her first."
"No. She would've found her. I know she would've. You fought her in front of the lab, didn't you? It had to have been desperate for you to have sliced her like that. Tell me."
Seething, he turned his head to face her. She didn't seem like her usual arrogant or snippy self. Heron was gravely serious, a self-righteous look in her eyes.
"I had no choice," he said.
"But you did," Heron said plainly. "We could've gone with the original plan from the moment she came into the building. It went exactly as originally planned. Lure her in with bait, have her find the kid, then have her bring the brat to be raised under Scrooge's nose, just like you said, like a true descendant of his. That's the only way to get the Papyrus. But no. You had to stupidly risk your long neck for a useless clone that we could've remade a hundred times over in our labs. Otherwise, what's the point in all this?"
That was it. He fully turned his body and got into her face, enraged. "The point? The point? The point was to keep her safe! To raise her as ours, as our asset! It would've been better than leaving her under Scrooge, unmonitored. And now look what happened: she was put into danger, almost taken away, and our base destroyed! And you think any of this was advantageous?"
She watched him quietly and unmovingly, her expression unchanged. Bradford stood agap, disbelieving her words. Finally, it clicked.
"You…you lured her there," he whispered slowly. "You left April in that cage. You went ahead with the old plan without consulting me. You had this planned from the beginning, from the moment we shook hands in that office."
Her eyes hardened. "This was for your own good."
"You went behind my back," he growled viciously.
She leaned closer to him. "It's like I said before. You've become too attached to her. You got too close to a clone. At the end of all this, she's nothing to us. She's only useful for one thing and one thing only: getting that damned paper for us to rule the world with. And if that takes us years to get to, fine." She clenched her fists and stood firmly. "But if I had to watch another day of you worrying and getting closer to something that will and has gotten you hurt, then I knew I had to do what I had to for the sake of the plan, for her sake, and yes, even for your sake, you useless old bird."
He took a step closer to her, rage etched into his face, yet he tried to keep his voice in control. "How do you know what's best for me, for her? Why does everyone think they know what I want, how I should feel, what's good for me? You don't know! Nobody knows but me! How many times must I tell you: she's not just a clone. She's a living person, nothing more than a mere child, and I was only raising her like I would've if she were my very own."
"But she isn't, Bradford!" she cried loudly, a tinge of hurt in her voice, her mouth tightening in some unknown pain. "You're using her to get to a goal, and once you're done, you'll leave her to the wolves. You don't think she won't be hurt by your lies? You don't think she'll ever trust you again, ever see you as her father again? What do you think would become of her? She's not your daughter, and she never will be. And if you think raising her like a pig for slaughter is a kindness to her, something a 'loving' father would do, then-," she barked a caustic chuckle and smiled cynically, "-then maybe I've played my part too well. Then you really are a villain."
"I. AM. NOT. A. VILLAIN!" he screeched.
They stared at each other unflinchingly in fury. He wanted to grab the Sword. He wanted to tear her apart for saying such blatant lies. None of it were true, not one word. If only she weren't still carrying the bag on her shoulder with his Sword still in it, he would've- he would've-
He chanced a glance at April. Miraculously, she was still asleep even during this whole commotion. "You're wrong," he growled defiantly. "I won't leave her. She'll still be mine. I'll still…I'll still-"
"Love her?" she finished for him. She shook her head and whispered harshly, "No, dear Bradford. This isn't about you anymore, surprisingly enough. It's about her, and the little heart you'll be breaking because of you."
He bared his teeth at her and snarled. He turned back to the table and slammed his fists on it, a loud grunt coming out of him. "I never knew you cared so much for her," he growled in sarcasm. "From what I've seen today, it doesn't really seem like you do, truly."
"I don't," she said measuredly. "I only care that you're digging both your own graves now. Tell me, Bradford: do you still want to go through with this? Is it still worth it? Have you felt enough pain now to tell you this isn't worth the battle, the lives and love lost? Or, are you still willing enough to do absolutely anything to get what you want, no matter who stands in your way, no matter what the costs? Tell me now, Bradford, so I can know."
He gripped his shaking fists and shut his eyes tight. It never should've come to this point.
"I wish…I wish I had never laid eyes on you in that corridor."
The two stood in deadly silence for a few moments. From somewhere beyond the room, he heard a little worried whimper come out from Pepper's beak.
Finally, he heard a loud thunk land on the carpet, and Black Heron saying in a tired yet accepting voice tinged with indifference, "Fine. I know when I'm not wanted."
More silence prevailed, and in a split second, Bradford realized what he had said. He turned around hastily to stop her, only to find empty space, the baby bag with the planted Sword in it drooping on the ground. He glanced up to Pepper, whose eyes were now directed down the hall and her hand covering her bill, speechless.
Bradford stepped outside and looked at what Pepper was staring at. The window at the end of the hall was wide open, the wind from the sea billowing the curtain frantically.
"I'm sorry, Director Buzzard," Pepper said nervously. "I couldn't stop her, she just-"
He sighed, thinking over her words as he retreated back to the safety of his room, sitting down in a lounge chair, holding his head in his hands.
"No. She was right. I shouldn't have pushed her to do something she didn't want. I should've seen this coming. Maybe I am doing more harm than good. I should've listened to her more. Maybe this entire thing was a mistake…maybe I should just…"
He lifted his head and watched the sleeping baby dream peacefully on his bed. He had gotten too close to her. So close that it's risked the entire operation, years of planning done by both Heron and him. And it was true: he couldn't let her go. He couldn't let Beakley take her. He couldn't risk the possibility of her taking April, or even worse, him not finding her at all. No matter how many plan revisions and reasons he could make up to justify his actions, they all came down to one main cause.
He loved her. And it was a love that never should've been. He saw himself too much in her, saw a second chance in her, saw a way for her to live the life he never got to live, to be protected from the dangers of the world, even with the twisted reasons she was originally created for. Maybe he would've helped her become more than her purpose. Maybe he saw in her a future and humanity that had been destroyed within himself long ago. Maybe…
He sighed again, rubbing his eyes and face. "What an old fool I am," he breathed. He'd end up hurting her like this, the closer he got to her. He needed her, but did she need him as much as he needed her? What kind of a father was he to do this to her? What had he become? What has Heron done to him, what had she created in him? What had they both caused?
Maybe this was it? Maybe this was where he hung up his coat? Could he had gone too far? What of the child? What should he-?
He stole a glance at the clock. It was only 6 PM. He still had time. He had to think about this. He needed to remind himself of why he was doing this. The gears in his head were already turning, but he needed to calm down enough to do this.
"Pepper," he softly called. Pepper perked up at her name being said. "I'd like you to keep company with my brothers, keep them occupied for the time being. Don't say a word to them of what happened today. Then, if I'm not out of this room by eight o'clock, I want you to knock on my door and check on me. Do you understand?"
Pepper gave a spirited nod and a good-natured salute. "You got it, Mr. Director!"
She closed the door behind her, leaving Bradford alone with April in the bedroom to think.