Chapter Text
“I am the terror that flaps in the night! I am the rotten banana peel buried under a pile of papers on the counter of crime that you forgot about! I am Darkwing Duck!”
Darkwing paused, glancing back at Gosalyn. Gosalyn shook her head, tilting her hand this way and that.
“You’re too close to the material,” she said. They were standing in Darkwing’s hideout on the bridge and Gosalyn was procrastinating on the homework she hadn’t told Darkwing she had. In other words, it was a perfectly ordinary Tuesday night.
“Are you sure you don’t have homework?” Darkwing said, arching his eyebrows at her. “On a Tuesday night? That sounds a little suspicious.”
“Pfft, the teachers decided to give us the night off,” Gosalyn lied. “We work too hard, they said.”
“Uh huh,” Darkwing said, not buying it. “And what about that big project you have due on Friday?”
“I’ll do it Thursday night,” she said. “Thursday is two days from now. I have plenty of time.”
“Gosalyn, you need to do your homework.”
“I told you--I don’t have any.”
“I wasn’t hatched yesterday.”
“I know you weren’t; you were hatched during the Jurassic era,” Gosalyn muttered. “You’re a fossil.”
“Take that back!” he huffed and she smirked. Ripping on his vanity always distracted him. Now, if only that homework she had would do itself. Maybe she could rope Honker into doing it for her. Five bucks said he’d do it for her and he’d have her eternal gratitude, up until the next time she didn’t complete it.
“Okay, fine, you’re not a fossil,” she said and paused a beat. “You’re carbon dated.”
“I am not!” Darkwing snapped, stomping his foot.
“Now who’s the mature one?” Gosalyn shot back.
“Do your homework! That’s an order!” he said. “No crimefighting until you’re done--and you’re not paying Honker to do it for you. I got a call about that from your teacher. It’s suspicious when two students hand in the same paper with the same wrong answers.”
“It wouldn’t be if he’d done what I asked him to do,” Gosalyn muttered.
“What was that?”
“Nothing, Dad,” she said and affected an innocent look. “Just me talking to myself.”
“Right,” he said and put his helmet on. “I have an appointment with Megavolt. He’s messing with the city’s power grid again. And no phone, no internet, no nothing until you’ve done your homework. Do you hear me?”
“What if I need the internet for homework?” Gosalyn said, the picture of innocence. She batted her eyelashes too for good effect. She’d seen her Nega-self work the room like that. Of course, she didn’t have the sweet personality to match, but maybe she could work it into her manipulation.
“Shouldn’t you already know what you need to do for your homework? And how do I know you’re not going to use it to talk to Webby or look up the answers?”
“Gee, Dad, you have such a low opinion of me,” Gosalyn said. “I’m hurt.”
“All right, all right, I’m sorry. But no phone and no internet,” he said. “That’s final.”
“Jeez, I didn’t do anything and I’m already grounded,” she grumbled.
Darkwing ignored that (or didn’t hear, she wasn’t sure which) and revved up the Ratcatcher. An opening appeared in the side of the lair and he waved goodbye as he drove off. Gosalyn watched him with a twinge of jealousy. It must be so awesome to be an adult and taken seriously. Everyone gave her short shrift because she was only eleven.
She was turning twelve soon. The least people could do was treat her like a lady, if they were going to keep calling her “young lady”. As in, “young lady, don’t you know better than to chew gum and then spit it out on the desk?” Or, “young lady, don’t do that” and “young lady, don’t do this”.
What she wanted was to go on a spy mission of her own. That would prove that she could handle more adult responsibilities. Plus, it’d keep her from doing her homework. Anything that would help with procrastination was all right in her book. Maybe she could rope Webby and the others into helping. Webby had been itching for action too.
She ambled over to the giant computer Darkwing kept in his lair. It looked like it hadn’t been updated since 1991. Pressing a few buttons, she summoned up SHUSH files and scanned them. There had to be an active mission she could tag along on. Yet when she kept poking and prodding at the files, the database shut down on her. Irritated, she kicked the computer and then hopped up and down, howling and clutching her foot. Lousy computer.
“Mister I am the terror that flaps with fruit flies,” Gosalyn muttered. She kicked the computer again, forgetting that she’d already done so, and hopped up and down. Well, that was stupid. It was a good thing no one was around to see that.
The computer screen flickered, showing J. Gander Hooter. Gosalyn fell over and then got back up. She saluted him.
“Gosalyn Mallard reporting for duty!” she announced.
“Er, Gosalyn?” he said, blinking in confusion. “You’re not Darkwing Duck.”
“I could be,” she proposed and ignored her throbbing right foot.
“No, you’re just a child,” he said dismissively. “Where is Darkwing Duck?”
“Beats me,” she said with a shrug. “But I was trained in the orphanage to go on SHUSH missions. I can handle whatever it is you were about to give Darkwing. I promise. Me and Webby.”
“Webbigail Vanderquack?”
“That’s what I said, wasn’t it?” she said and scoffed. “Is there an echo in here?”
“You’re still only children. It’s far too dangerous. No, it’s better to wait for Darkwing Duck to arrive. When he does, give him these sheets that the fax machine will be printing now.”
Gosalyn looked down. Faxes were also prehistoric. Was her father living in the Stone Age? However, that gave her an idea. J. Gander had never said anything about not looking the pages over herself. And if they just happened to be in the right place at the right time, then how could anyone gainsay them? Gosalyn suppressed an evil grin.
“Give that straight to Darkwing!” he ordered. “I’ll see him later!”
“Not if I don’t see him first,” she muttered. The video conference ended and she read the pages, still warm from the printer. A villain named Tuskerninni had his eye on McDuck Studios. That was in Duckburg. She was practically vibrating with excitement. McDuck Studios was in Webby’s neck of the woods. That was exactly the kickstart they needed.
They were making a film based on Gizmoduck, which seemed like prime real estate to the walrus. Besides which, if Darkwing got wind of this, he’d flip. At this point, Gizmoduck was well established in Duckburg and had a fan following. Darkwing had a cult following if you could call it that. That crazy giant duck wearing all the Darkwing gear certainly was threatening to give Morgana a run for her money.
There was no need to bother her father. She and Webby could totally handle this. And if they needed discreet backup, why look further than Lena and the boys? There was nothing in the article that said that a bunch of kids couldn’t handle it. And really, Darkwing deserved a vacation. Gosalyn, in her magnanimousness, was glad to provide it.
Breaking every rule that Darkwing had set out for her tonight, Gosalyn called up Webby. Unlike Gosalyn, Webby was homeschooled, which meant she shouldn’t have homework. If she did, however, she’d probably have done it already. Webby was prodigious like that. She was always so enthusiastic to get things done. Gosalyn took the slacker’s approach every time.
Oddly enough, Webby wasn’t answering her phone. Oh, well. Gosalyn would leave her a message and then prepare to take down Tuskerninni. Piece of cake. And maybe she’d do a little bit of her homework to throw her dad off the trail. That was a thing, right?
Webby would respond soon enough. She was probably just busy with the boys or Lena. Gosalyn could afford to wait. After all, if Megavolt kept her dad distracted long enough, he wouldn’t even notice she was missing. As for Launchpad, he was in Duckburg for the time being. It was the perfect crime.
She rubbed her palms together and grinned wickedly. This should be fun, provided no adults came in to ruin things. Man, she wished she was older.
Lately, Mrs. Beakley had been losing track of time. She considered worrisome, but, as Magica had proven, no one had noticed that she was being possessed until Lena and Scrooge had brought it to light. No one else paid attention to her. She’d been morose ever since Magica had possessed her and then been trapped within the dime. Physically, she bore a few aches and pains from Magica, but mentally, that was another story. In the past, she might have been able to fool herself into believing she had friends, but Magica had laid that bare.
It hadn’t bothered her before that she was a solitary creature. A spy didn’t need friends. Friends only put oneself and others in danger. However, the fact remained that she was no longer a spy. She was a grandmother, a housekeeper, and a bodyguard. None of those roles meant she had any close confidantes. Would Scrooge ever have noticed her condition if Lena hadn’t mentioned it? Of course he would have cared because Magica was his sworn enemy. And yes, she admitted that her employer was stubborn and arrogant, which had led to his not noticing her condition in the first place. Yet aside from him and Launchpad, who else did she have to talk to?
She sighed. She was at the gym and attempting to punch away her problems. Thus far, she had broken two punching bags and accomplished nothing. She had the sense she was forgetting something, but she couldn’t imagine what. After all, her chores having been completed for the day, she had free time now. Normally she would have spent it taking tea, but she disliked being in her head right now. Her head, as she had learned, was a dangerous place to be.
It wasn’t that she was letting Magica get to her, she told herself. After all, what did that sorceress know? Yet she’d brought up valid points and...she could feel her mood slipping again. It’d been dreadful, to begin with, and now she lacked the motivation to continue her assault on the gym’s equipment. The gym owners were probably relieved because she’d stopped destroying their things. She would, of course, pay for what she had ruined. That wasn’t the point.
She had conversations with people in her day to day life. She chatted...but that was all it ever amounted to. Nothing went beyond the surface. Sighing, she went to retrieve her cell phone and discovered a plethora of missed calls. She blinked, realizing that they were all from Webby. Hadn’t she planned something with her granddaughter today?
Well, no matter. Webby would adjust. Dash it all, she could feel her mood sinking into depression. She didn’t normally waste time feeling sorry for herself. After all, what good did that do? Tucking her phone into her shirt pocket, she left the gym. She needed to find another way to spend her time that got her out of the house and, with that, away from memories of Magica in her body.
She couldn’t quite escape the prickly, disgusting feeling of Magica in her skin and the total loss of control, try as she might. Every once in a while, she’d lapse and then it’d slam right back down on her. Magica had taken her body and no one had noticed. Yes, all right, she was depressed and angry.
And then the phone rang again. She tightened her beak, prepared to ignore it; then she saw who it was. She sighed. Webby, she could ignore, though it would cause the girl distress. Mr. McDuck, on the other hand, was not to be disregarded.
Had Webby even noticed her possession? Or had it slipped her mind too, in the way that children often get distracted?
Webby had noticed that Mrs. Beakley had been rather distracted of late. Ever since Magica’s possession and then extraction, she’d kept to herself. She didn’t speak very much and it was like a shadow hung over her. Webby knew her grandmother probably wouldn’t confide in her, besides being a very private person and Webby being only a child, but she hoped her grandmother was telling someone was bothering her. She worried about her granny.
At present, her grandmother was supposed to be teaching her about proper defensive techniques, but she’d never shown up. No one knew where she was. It was like she was a ghost in McDuck Manor. Webby shuddered, tempted to call her. Meanwhile, Webby’s phone was going off. She ought to answer it, but she was preoccupied.
When the phone stopped vibrating, she scrolled through her list of contacts to find her grandmother’s number. Gosalyn had left her a voicemail; she would deal with it later. Unfortunately, her grandmother’s lack of response was unnerving. Maybe she ought to talk to Mr. McDuck about this.
She found Scrooge in his office piling coins and glowering at the phone. She didn’t know who was on the other end, but she was pretty sure they were about to get a tongue lashing. She waited until he was done before she stepped forward.
“Mr. McDuck--”
“Call me Uncle Scrooge, lass,” he corrected gently.
“Uncle Scrooge,” she supplemented, feeling oddly out of sorts using that nickname, “have you seen my granny? I can’t get ahold of her and she was supposed to be teaching me lessons this afternoon.”
“Ye know, come to think of it, I haven’t seen Beakley since this mornin’ myself,” he said, shaking his head.
“She’s been odd since Magica possessed her,” Webby added, fighting the temptation to fidget like a small child that has done something wrong. She’d done nothing wrong. She was just...agitated.
“If she calls, I’ll let you know,” he promised and frowned. “That’s not like her, to be missing lessons. I dunno what’s going through her mind.”
“That’s the problem,” Webby said, edging toward the seat in front of his desk but not quite sitting. Instead, she perched atop an armrest. “No one does. She doesn’t talk to anyone except you and even that’s just business. I don’t think Granny has any friends…”
“Nonsense,” he scoffed. “There’s...well, and then there’s...curse me kilts, you’re right.”
“But if she’s not going to meet friends, then where is she going?” Webby asked.
“I donnae know,” Scrooge said. He glared at his cell phone and then dialed Beakley’s number. Webby waited with bated breath. If her grandmother didn’t answer Webby, surely she would answer Scrooge. He was, after all, her employer.
“Beakley, where are you?” he asked. He didn’t put her on speaker, which meant Webby was waiting on tenterhooks trying to figure out what was being said.
“Yer granddaughter is worried about ye.”
He was silent for a moment and Webby’s anxiety kicked into high gear. What was her grandmother saying? She wished she were as close to Mrs. Beakley as Gosalyn was to Drake Mallard. Of course, Mrs. Beakley wasn’t an open person, but still, she felt she had the right to information. Mrs. Beakley had adopted her, after all.
“O’course I noticed something was wrong!” he said, sounding defensive. “Beakley, it’s been two weeks. She’s gone now.”
Magica. Webby’s feathers prickled. This all had to do with that sorceress. Lena hadn’t recovered from her yet, either, but then again, Magica had tormented Lena for years. When Lena wasn’t “on”, she often hid away, keeping everyone at arm’s length. Trust was a serious issue for the teenager.
“Aye, of course I know that. Why bring it up at all if you’re not concerned about it?”
“Because she is!” Webby burst out. “Lemme talk to her!”
“Not now, Webbigail,” he chastised. He grimaced. “She wants to talk to you.”
He held out the phone.
“Granny, are you okay?” Webby asked, taking it.
“I’m sorry, Webby. Time’s simply slipping away from me these days.”
“Is it possible that Magica still has her hooks in you and you don’t know it?” Webby asked.
Mrs. Beakley was silent for a long moment, so long that Webby feared they’d been disconnected. This was, after all, an old cell phone. Who used a flip phone anymore?
“I certainly hope not,” Mrs. Beakley said at last. There seemed to be more she wasn’t saying and Webby ached for the divide between them.
“I’ll be home soon,” she promised. “Don’t worry.”
That wasn’t why she was worried. She needed to go find Lena and quickly. Thanking Uncle Scrooge for allowing her to talk to Mrs. Beakley, she dashed off for Lena.
Lena, it appeared, was not in her usual haunts. She found the teenager in, of all places, Webby’s loft. Lena was curled in on herself, looking thoroughly miserable. She’d been reading a book but it lay forgotten nearby.
“Lena?” Webby queried.
“Oh, hey, pink,” Lena said and her facade fell into place. “What’s up?”
“Shouldn’t I be asking you that? You’re the one in my room…” Webby pointed out.
“Sorry about that,” Lena said, jumping to her feet. “I can leave.”
“No, no, it’s fine,” Webby said. “Sit down. Look, I wanted to ask you something.”
“Is it about Magica?”
“Um…”
“It’s about Magica,” Lena said and sighed. “Of course it is. Why should I have even thought anything different?”
“You don’t have to talk about her if you don’t want to,” Webby offered and sat beside her. Lena flicked her own hair.
“It’s fine,” Lena said in a tone that indicated the exact opposite. “What is it?”
“Is it possible that Magica left something behind after she was exorcised from Granny? Like, a magical spell or the ability to step back in?” Webby blurted.
Lena was silent, mulling this over. “I mean, I guess anything is possible. Why do you ask?”
“Because Granny’s been losing track of time and not keeping appointments and she’s been weird since Magica.”
“Being with Magica will do that to you,” Lena said. She cast her gaze downward and Webby hugged her impulsively. Lena, startled, hugged her back. It felt to Webby like Lena needed the hug more than she was willing to admit.
“But you think it’s possible?” Webby persisted. She sat back on the bed.
“As I said, pink, anything’s possible. I can look into it with my amulet if you want.”
Webby nodded. “I’d appreciate it.”
“Hey, Webs?” Lena said after a minute. “I hope you’re wrong. Because if she can seize control again, there’s no telling what she might do this time.”
“I know…”
Lena balled her fists. “Trust me. You have no idea.”