Chapter Text
I wander away from the kitchen, a can of cherry pep in hand. Running my to-do list through my head. Scrolling through my phone to double check the latest threads. My latest startup is doing well, needs some more polish before introducing it to stores. I can trick Huey into web logos again, he does a better job than the person I pay to do it. I’d kept a very significant portion of control after I “couldn’t handle” the pressure of a company. Scrooge has no idea how much of his company I still run.
My dearest family is currently tumbling down the stairs at high speeds. Scrooge walking slowly. While Della looks more like a kid than the actual kids running with her. Am I bitter? Nooo. Not me. Never me. I keep my gaze down on my phone. Switching the screen to show a video of Ottoman Empire. Webby flips over the last three steps, when Dewey tries to copy he lands on his face. Huey barely slows down to avoid the collision. Della had been first down, jumping one step and singing “nailed it.” Like it was some achievement.
“Hey Louie!” Webby yells with a wave. A genuine smile on her face.
“Hey bro! Did you see me? I almost had that!”
“You really didn’t.”
“Says you! I totally had that!”
“Statistically speaking you never have it Dewford.”
“Okay boys, thats enough. Hi sweetie! It feels like I haven’t seen you in forever! What are you up to?” Della said while stepping between Huey and I. Sarcasm or passive aggressive? Oh the choices.
“Really?” I respond before taking a small sip. “I saw you just this morning at breakfast, started to tell you about my latest project.”
I leave the rest of the sentence off. It's not needed. She winces as I finish speaking, remembering her words from this morning I’ll bet. I see Huey’s eyebrows start to scrunch in confusion before Della distracts them. Say what you want but she can read a room. Too bad she only uses it to distract everyone from her issues.
“Well we just wanted to invite you on our latest adventure!” She said brightly.
“Ew, gross no.” I reply, turning to keep walking up to the stairs. I’ve successfully avoided treasure hunts with Della for almost a year and I’d like to keep my streak thank you.
“Well you have fun Honey!” She said with an awkward air.
I pass Uncle Scrooge right as he’s getting off the stairs. Exchanging a small smile with the old Duck. The age lines seem to have doubled in the last few years since the F.O.W.L incident but he’s as spry as ever when it counts. I’m not even three steps up when his words make a spike of ice lodge in my soul.
“Now! Let's go get the Scroll of the Blessed!” He shouts, my family responding in cheers. I force myself to turn back to my family. Running the ways this will play out in my head. If they go to that Island like they are now one of them will die. I look at Della hard, she seems to be realizing the same thing. All she does is nod after a second of indecision! Why are they like this!
I’m going to break my streak.
Damn it!
“Hey guys!” I call out, a lazy smile on my face. “Would you mind if I tagged along actually? This seems mildly interesting.”
“Really!” Webby squeals. Her excitement distracted the others from my complete 180.
“Yeah, let me just grab my bag real quick.” I reply hurrying back to the kitchen. My family talking excitedly about me willingly going along on a treasure hunt. Oh if only they knew.
As I swing the doors into the kitchen I come to a dead stop. Mrs. Beakley standing above me with her hands on her hips, glaring at me. I just tilt my head up and meet her gaze head on. Setting my can of Pep on the counter next to me while maintaining eye contact. Watching her eyes narrow at my actions. Then she sighs, brow relaxing.
“Do you really need your bag?”
“They're going to Chimpanzee Island.”
She turns to the cabinet under the sink. Moving the cleaning products out of the way. Grabbing a simple black backpack from the back. Nothing about it looked important to the untrained eye. I lean against the counter while she does.
“I went ahead and restocked it after you last snuck out. Of course I know nothing about that.”
“Of course.” I reply, a smirk on my lips. Mrs. B knows everything inside and out of this Mansion. Not even Della can get anything past her.
We landed without a crash since Della was the one piloting.
“This is going to be great! It’s said that the Scroll of the Blessed to heal wounds!” Huey exclaimed while reading his little book.
“I heard that this place spits out adventurers faster than you can blink!” Della yelled.
“Yes!” Yelled Webby and Dewey in sync, jumping up for a high five.
“Hey guys, I’ll just hang here for a sec.” I say with a slow smirk, ignoring the groans of aggravation from everyone. Tapping on my phone with one hand.
“Come on Lad, you came all this way with us, leas you could do is come with us.” Uncle Scrooge implored.
“Nah, I’ll be riiight behind you.” I say with no interest at all.
As soon as my family is out of sight I straighten up and put away the phone. I tell Launchpad to be ready to take off at any second. Climbing out of the plane with a length of rope coiled on my shoulder. Depositing my load next to the ramp I tie a pink ribbon high in a nearby tree, making sure the wind can catch it from every angle. Sliding down the tree I feel the prickling of the feathers on my neck lifting. The invisible eyes of the forest following my every move.
I make my way back to the plane. My hand clenched on the handle of my knife hidden beneath my hoodie. My walk appears relaxed even though I’m not. A skill I learned from watching Uncle Donald over the years. Especially after he had bad nights. The ones when he had to call Uncle Goofy or Uncle Mickey. The worst ones were when he spoke in that odd mix of spanish, english and portuguese after he woke up. Those times he called an overseas phone number. He always walked around the next day(s) after looking relaxed. No one else ever noticed.
With the last of the prep work done I climb up the tail of the plane, making my way to the left wing. Tying the rope around my waist I pull out an old twenty dollar diamond and tie it to the other end. A quick glance around to make sure Huey won’t see me doing nerd stuff. Swinging it a few times before letting it launch and circle the wing. Tying it off I edge towards the window to make sure the rope is long enough.
Getting to the window and back is easy right now. Once I’m confirmed to be secure I start pulling pieces out of my bag. Assembling a barret M82A1 in less than a minute. Everything clicks into place perfectly. Putting on the silencer and scope on last. I pull out a P320 modular semi automatic and strap it to my waist.
I stash the extra clips for both in my hoodie pocket while the other three extended mags are put next to my spot. My bag slipped back onto my shoulders as I lay down. My cheek hitting a faded puff star sticker on the shoulder. It used to be green but now it's more a yellowish color. Both eyes open as I stare down the scope. The bright sun makes the metal of the plane burn.
I lay there watching shadows move for a little over three hours as sweat beads into my feathers before I heard chimp screams. Locking an extended mag in place I flip the safety off. My eyes flicker to the pink ribbon as I settle. It’s barely fluttering. The crashes get louder while distant trees collapse into the canopy. My family’s white feathers are finally coming into sight. A shrieking hoard right behind them. I see a shadow about to jump. A quick squeeze. One.
Huey visibly jumps when the body lands next to him, even from 820 meters away. Della is about to get grabbed by the hoard chasing them. Two. Three. Webby seems to have caught on, moving to my brothers and grabbing their hands. Four. A shadow above Uncle Scrooge falls.
They keep running. The ribbon flutters to the right before five. Six corrects the issue. The hoard hasn’t thinned at all when I thump the roof with my foot to get LP to start the plane. Seven. I clipped Uncle Scrooge's hat! Shitshitshit! He’s gonna kill me later! The engines are deafening. I don’t have time for the panic curling in my chest. Putting eight and nine into the hoard. Targeting the biggest chimps at the front.
Ten quickly follows when one’s about to jump onto Della. 600 meters. I got this. I unload eleven and twelve into two shadows above my siblings. Pulling the empty one out and next to the full, to shove the full mag in takes six seconds. One. Two. Immediately into the hoard.
Both eyes open, I don’t see any immediate issues so I put three, four and five into the front. Tripping the chimps right behind my family with the fallen. I hate chimps! The ribbon stills before fluttering to the right with more force. I adjust my aim on the scope. Six goes into a shadow above Della. Body not dropping from the trees. Seeing no other immediate problems I aim for the head behind Della. Seven goes through her scarf. Oops.
Eight goes to the bunch behind my siblings. 400 meters. They’re getting close. Nine, ten, eleven and twelve go fast into the trees near the plane before I switch out. Pulling both empties into my hoodie pocket, the flat side facing inward. I pull up the stand and switch to kneeling. This is gonna suck. I unload one, two and three into the trees dropping shadows. 200 meters when my family gets onto the straight flat, they put on a burst of speed. I unload the rest of the clip into the front of the hoard. Dropping the mag, I pull out a new one. Fingers barely touching the .50 cal before loading.
The plane starts moving when they’re almost to the plane. 150 meters. I jump forward into unsupported, taking out nine in the hoard as fast as I can. I have three shots left when they’ve all jumped into the moving plane. The door up as the wheels leave the earth. But I’m not done. I flip on the safety and slide on the sling while pulling out the handgun as I do.
It takes eight rounds to get the chimps that have jumped onto the plane during takeoff. All eleven chimps had raced straight for me. The last being kicked off the plane wing over my head. Leaving behind a nasty bite on my arm. We’re already 300 ft in the air. I can barely breathe with the air rushing past me. Only a flimsy rope to guide me back into the plane. Webby and my Brother’s are freaking out at the window with Uncle Scrooge right behind them.
Edging to the window is terrifying, made all the more difficult with the 32 pound weight slung onto my back. Just the rope and luck keeping me alive. Climbing in is like crashing. Abrupt and a little painful. All the adrenaline starts leaking out of my system the second my foot touches cool metal. Leaving me shaky.
“Louie!” My family yells in chorus while I’m catching my breath. Oh phooey. Della is the first in the group to try and grab me, reaching over Dewey to do so. I side step away from her, putting me a little closer to Webby. She blinks stunned for a second before glaring, hands on her hips.
“What is all this! Are those guns!?! Who gave you a gun?” She yelled, her face starting to turn red. Only getting darker as silence stretched around her.
“Huh! Answer me young man!” She yelled, taking a step forward. I only look away, not missing the uncomfortable look on Dewey’s face. The anxiety on Webby or the rising anger on Huey’s. Uncle Scrooge stepped half in front of me with a placating hand up.
“Lass, maybe take a breath. Calm down a wee bit.”
“Calm down! Calm down! Are you serious!? Look what he did!?” She yelled, waving aggressively toward me.
“Aye! He saved our lives!” I can’t look up, can’t look at any of them.
“He’s a murderer!” She screams.
A gasp comes upon the plane. Tension ratcheting up higher than ever before! Not that I expected any different, why would I ever expect different. Rage still curdles in my gut at being proved right once again. Besides, Uncle Donald is gonna be pissed. My hands shake in my hoodie pocket. Clenching my hands around the empty mags.
“Tha’ is uncalled for!”
“No, what's uncalled for is you treating him like he’s normal! He’s a stupid thief before! But now he’s nothing but a no good murderer who doesn’t belong in this family!”
Her words ring through the air like crystals shattering. Everyone else seems to be in shock, but I have a rising apathy towards them. I’ve heard this all before, afterall. Anytime she catches wind of a con. Anytime she “apologizes” and NEVER means it. It just gets . . . old. So I shut down. I turn my head away like I’m angry and nothing else. Like I’m not affected by her words. Like the words don’t feel like glass digging into me.
I step back when she’s done yelling. Away from her and Scrooge arguing. I ignore Dewey and Huey saying she didn’t mean it. Shrug when Webby claims it will be okay. I sit back and let the world fly by. Ignoring the argument that pounds every word into my soul.