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The jumble of anger and sorrow that flooded throughout Scrooge McDuck’s nervous system was comparable to his bank account to say the least. And that's saying a lot considering he’s the richest duck to ever live.
Once he heard his nephew door slam shut out of his house with his grand nephews in arms, he began his own flood out of his tear ducts. Liquid droplets burned the corners of his eyes until he prompted them to a forceful halt by the back of one of his feathered hands.
He couldn’t bear to not do anything, he was Scrooge McDuck after all, greatest adventurer of all time; not some whiny ninny. With his chest boasted out, he began to mentally hatch a plan to bring Della back as he marched towards his office using spite as fuel.
‘...left me alone. How could that no good shan eejit nephew of mine think that I sent ‘er out there to die… I’ll show him. Soon this’ll all be a funny memory to look back on….’.
Only an inch remained before his foot was out the door when suddenly his intuition halted him.
‘Look over there.'
His angered gaze softened as he took a gander at where his grand quadruplet nephews once rested, the nest barren of life except for a single round oval object that remained. It appeared that Donald had left in such an angered state he failed to notice what he lacked. Scrooge had the intention of leaving the room by himself to rescue his niece, however the egg that layed in the nest put the former on a permanent pause.
A contrasting orange post it note that read ‘Stewart’ ーthe name of ‘shotgun’ could be seen crossed outー in red sharpie was prominent against the white calcium shell. It was the youngest of his niece’s wean.
The old man’s mind was going back and forth in turmoil over what to do. He had the responsibility now to take care of this wee lad since he couldn’t bear to face Donald without Della in tow, but also the responsibility to get his niece back to safety. His mouth ran dry at his predicament, it was as if his brain was shaken by a toddler that had yet to accomplish decent motor skills.
The midnight chime of the corner placed grandfather clock grabbed him neck first from his 'deer-in-headlights' trance. Slight shame trickled down his feathered back at how long it took for him to act, realizing he could <em>both</em> care for his grand nephew all the while searching for his lost niece.
He never considered himself a delicate man, but in taking the little Stewart in his arms he could just feel the nervous prickles throughout his body that came with being a guardian. Moonlight beamed brightly from the window adjacent to him, hitting the barin’s shell enough to reveal his distinct veins. His focus followed the light, leading his gaze to the vast emptiness of the sky before his own reflection gained his vision's dominance. His lost stare spawned a gradual poignant comprehension concerning his current situation.
He was truly alone at this moment. Terror rained on him from feathered head to webbed toes. What stared back at him was no family around whatsoever to laugh and embark on a daily adventure, they’d all left him. All but Stewart. His embrace on the egg tightened with aching care.
“Aye, it seems like it’s just you and me for now laddie,” He stated, a mixture of desperation and determination oozing from each pin feather like a stress ball, “ Tell ya what, you’ll be my right hand man in retrieving your mother.”
At the moment he attempted to convince himself it was for the wee wean rather than himself. After all, ducklings need someone to rely on; but deep down he knew the truth.
The small moment the trillionaire had with his great nephew lasted briefly before glancing at the moon with a final ‘grumph’.
His task to retrieve his niece was officially in full swing. Swift pitter patters of webbed feet echoed throughout the mansion.
Old Scrooge juggled hard in taking care of little Stewie while managing the rescue project. Yelling at his workers to try harder and faster all the while he cradled the little one with his hands covering Stewart’s pseudo shell ears. The softest of beddings were placed in Stewie’s nest, juxtaposing the insane eyebags that Scrooge harbored.
Not one bit of hesitance came in his midst as he spent each dime and penny he had into funding. But each day that passed came no results, not even a piece of scrap nor feather. The more seconds that went the more he realized something as he rocked the developing bairn with a bitter taste in his beak.
'Oft… We’re in this for the long run, you and I.'
This cemented into his mind once his board of directors locked him from the rescue project lest he destroy McDuck Enterprises for good. While his heart grew jaundiced and cold to the outside world, it also grew fonder inside for Stewie as the lad became his world. It was from then on he swore he’d never let Stewart go through what he had, the duckling would be stronger than that.
It was late into an April night that the cracks and wiggles began. Scrooge had been in his office staring for hours on end onto a framed picture of him, Donald, and Della as they claimed a pirate boat. It was only until his housekeeper, Beakley, poked him with a feather duster in one hand and her own grand duckling in another to point him towards the now pipping egg.
Instant panic and joy arose in the old geezer. The sound of a door slam reverberated in his mind, prompting a whirlwind of self doubt.
Would he be a good, Great Uncle?
What if he fails at this whole thing and ends up somehow hurting the child?
All were questions that growingly slurried throughout his mind like an overfilled cup as Stewie's head slowly headbutted his way through the shell with a mighty squeal of triumph.
Tiny eyelids slowly opened up in confusion, not understanding his surroundings other than he’d gone from his warm abode to some cold unfamiliar territory. Scrooge looked slack jawed at his grand nephew, his paranoia holding him back from acting. A small squeal of glee from Webbigail caused him to look at the lass and unto her grandmother, who gave a nod of encouragement to the new parent.
Determined now, the Scot gave warmth to the newborn. Soft and gentle dabs by the nest’s bedding were given to the infant once in the arms of the elder. Once all the membrane muck was pushed out of the way, the child’s face was as clear as day. Scrooge’s gaze managed to soften more than it already had once Stewie’s features registered.
He took after Della more often than not. Scrooge could see Stewart having the signature McDuck whiskers in the future judging by his pin feathers. Other than that, it was certain he held his mothers eyes and beak shape to a tee. Perhaps with time his head would mold into a Della replicate too.
Moving with tender care for the boy, Scrooge allowed both their foreheads to meet. His whiskers tickled the infant, gracing the room with a mini orchestra of short lived giggles. Scrooge melted like butter in Floridian heat, his eyes never once leaving his great nephew’s chubby face.
“ I will always be ‘ere for you, Stewart. You’ll never feel abandoned, I’ll make sure of it myself.”
It was only after his final saccharine words that Stewart’s attention gave way to the trillionaire's eyes. Their matching gazes becoming akin to a binding handshake.
“Beakley, please remove that painting. Place it into the garage or something.”, He said in an indifferent tone now, no longer even sparing a slide glance to the painting he previously gazed at for hours yearning. His watch only stayed on his ward, determined.
‘No more getting held back by troublesome family, it’ll just be the two of us against the world, sonny.’
The days that came forth went by in a flash. Crawling soon turned into first steps before that inevitably transitioned into running throughout the hallways with grubby little hands swinging in every direction. Single digit birthdays became double in what only felt like a minute after the first.
Webby and Stewie were growing up quickly side by side, becoming little terror gremlins once discovering the art of vent crawling. Both learning advanced survival skills and self defense by none other than Beakley. Scrooge likes to take credit for the latter after buying Stewie an automated puck machine ーwhich also contributed to Stewie's first fallen toothー following the time in which he’d found wee Stewart shrieking at the television screen during an intense hockey match.
In fact, on Stewart’s ninth birthday he’d received the perfect gift from his Uncle Scrooge. A hockey jersey of his favorite team, the Young Angones, with an orange beanie to match the team’s color. From that day on it became his signature attire, gaining some wear and tear over the following year. Given his resting Mcduck glare(a habit picked up from his Uncle),buzzcut(acquired from Webby sticking gum in his hair), and missing tooth, Stewie made for a stereotypical looking hockey kid.
Tough exterior and an even tougher gaze made the duckling’s connection to Scrooge obvious to even a blind eye. Had Scrooge’s age not been obvious to those around him, some might assume they were father and son.
Over the years Scrooge himself made sure to warn Stewart of the dangers of people, how they could ‘leave you in the dust even after everything you’ve done for them’, and to be careful of who he allowed inside his walls in this duck eat duck world they lived in.
The warnings ingrained itself into an impressionable Stewart over the years as a mantra. While he ate, while he roughhoused with Webby, while Beakley tended to their wounds, and while he played goalie alone, the message replayed itself on a loop 24/7. However, Stewie couldn’t abstain from questioning these warnings.
Each time Stewart’s great uncle spoke of the dangers, he’d notice the obvious affliction written across his Great Uncle’s face: The slight wobble of his lip, the scrunch of his eyes as they ever so moistened. It was crystal clear his Uncle had more story in him that he led on.
The mansion alone told him so much about his Uncle Scrooge’s past as did Webby’s uncoverings throughout her ever growing hyperfixation on clan McDuck grew, yet the elder let not one syllable past his beak in affirmation to the lad. It’s funny how he learned about his supposed brothers from Webby rather than his own Uncle.
At first he had many questions, the obvious being why he’d never met his brothers or his own parents and Uncle. Why was his Uncle Scrooge so paranoid of others like his own family? Was he perhaps talking from experience in his growth to become a trillionaire?
But seeing how much it pained Scrooge to even tell his tales of wary, Stewart deemed it better to let things be as is. After all, they only had each other in this duck eat duck world. And the lad couldn’t bear the thought of his Uncle’s saddened mug.
Which is why Stewart felt distrustful and nervous at the sight he witnessed from his window. An unfamiliar car awaited by the gate, too far to see who resided inside but close enough to determine it to be someone new. Had it been Launchpad in a new car, he’d have known by seeing the car crash through the gate as always. Why his Uncle still bothered in replacing it everyday would forever remain a mystery to him.
Even at a few miles away he could hear his Uncle Scrooge hollering at the unknown people. Stewart hoped that the yelling would scare the trespassers away. Just who knew the true intentions of these deviants and what they’re capable of, thought Stewart.
For a second, as the car began to vacate the premises, Stewart rejoiced, his beak forming into a gradual ear to ear smile.
Until he saw three extra silhouettes in his Uncle’s entering vehicle. His beak became agape in sync with the dilation of his pupils.
‘Who. The fuck. Are you? ’, He thought venomously.
His hands grasped at his walkie-talkie, his thumb almost breaking the talk button as he relayed his findings to Webby. Mini McDuck was met with a lightspeed response of a high pitched squeal before a word vomit of theories came loose from the speaker. It was a miracle their devices still worked after all the abuse they went through by the hands of two rambunctious preteens.
“Maybe Scrooge is being blackmailed by those three newcomers? Oh wait nevermind I don’t think Scrooge would ever fall into blackmail… Or maybe-”
The sound of a few rough knocks on her bedroom vent interrupted her growing theory speech. Out popped Stewie’s head covered in a light layer of dust and disgruntlement. He’d begun vent crawling to her room right after pressing the button on his talker.
“If anything they’re likely all a nyaff bunch. I say”, Stewart began, now pointing to the vent he resided in, “let’s go find out and see how we can get those pesky trespassers to leave”.
“Well they can’t exactly be trespassers if Scrooge let them in– but ok!”
And so the duckling siege began. No longer relying on their handmade map of the vents anymore, they ventured off around the mansion militantly in attempts to quickly locate the newbies. No room went by a simple glance in the duo’s crusade. Not far along their search they caught onto three unfamiliar voices in a random storage room, an argument no doubt based on the loudness.
A pleased grunt silently passed out of the orange clad lad’s beak. His and Webby’s presence only a few feet away from the door that harbored the miscreant trio. Both ready to barge into the room to interrogate the lot, however the unannounced trio came to them as the blue attired encroacher triumphantly broke open the door.
While this deviated from the mansion duo’s original plan, Beakley didn’t train them to adapt for nothing. Quickly, Webby implemented her grappling hook and handy chloroform cloth, effectively subduing the previously triumphant duck into a knocked out one.
Gasps emerged from the storage room, the remaining two held headlocked tight in fright. The hallway was lightless ーmainly because Scrooge hated the electricity bill. What remained outside the door was the unknown dusk to the cornered children before two more grappling hooks shot out faster than they could react.
When one thinks of children, they think of the young at play in a playground of sorts or even laughter, not children interrogating one another like a cop to criminals.
Which is why the sight that befell in Webbigail’s room was an odd one to say the least. It was there that light flooded solely on three ducklings hung by the hips upside down via rope, leaving the mansion bairn’s identities in the shadows to them.
“Who sent you!?'' Webby began as she rapidly shook the rope, pushing her face in the edge of the shadows “Ma Beagle? Glomgold?-”, Stewart continued her interrogation like a creepy twin, “Answer us!”
Two seconds passed before the green intruder cried out in surrender, “Uncle Scrooge!”
A flood of bewilderment smacked the two mansion inhabitants upright, each speaking their minds out loud, “Uncle Scrooge!?”
The adrenaline that ran through the duo in their crusade quickly ran dry, now finally taking the time to take a proper look at their intruders. Realization was set forth in the two, seeing that they are-
“OH MY GOSH THE NEPHEWS!”, Webby yelped in excitement, overshadowing the flabbergasting tone of Stewart’s fish eyed response, “It’s them, it's really them…”
As if trading, the tied up trio was met with their own flood of befuddlement, “Wait, you know us?”, questioned Louie.
A quick hand clap from Webby prompted lights in action from the entire room. No longer engulfed in darkness, she was quick to untie the trio with a slash from her handy kris dagger. Yelps came about as the three hit the ground head first from a small distance.
“Of course! Researching Mr.McDuck and his family is kinda my hobby”
“More a lifestyle than anything…”, Stewart mumbled low enough for only Webby to hear.
Webby looked at the boys embarrassed, each becoming gradually more and more confused at everything. Louie responded exactly what each of his siblings thought.
“What?”
Undeterred from this response, Webby began her attack questionnaire on the undefended three.
“What are your blood types? What’s Donald really like? Who’s the evil triplet?” Webby asked, the last question coming out with much more interest than the others. Stewie had to admit, he was curious too at this.
“Louie”, responded both Huey and Dewey in synch at the latter while pointing at said brother. No defense came from the green fitted sibling, only an agreeing ‘meh’ slipped his beak with the shrug of his shoulder.
Stewie wasn’t sure what to say in the midst of this all, he was conflicted with his uncle’s advice and his own thirst for answers. Fortunately, Webby was content with doing all the talking for him as she flashed a camera into the trio’s faces, much to their retinas discomfort.
“Tell me everything!”
The harsh flash halted the trio’s answers for a few seconds before they began off one another: “Uhhh, we live with our uncle–", “on a boat”.
There was a pause afterwards, the three shifted awkward at Webby’s dilated gaze. Her stare felt animalistic almost, her ultimate prey being information that the trio didn’t exactly have.
“Go on”, she stated with anticipation dripping from each individual pin feather.
“That’s kinda it… we’re just a normal boring family-” Huey replied before effectively being cut off.
“Normal? Ha, as if!”
Webby kicked a soccer ball, hitting the handle of a projector screen, sliding up to reveal a cork board. Its contents were filled to the brim with Scrooge related ancestry dating back centuries.
The trio backed up in shock from the ball. Not watching where he was going, Dewey backed into Stewie’s foot.
Identical yelps emerged from the two, Stewie now gaining the attention of his siblings. A grimace painted itself crookedly on his face, both at the nerve reaction on his foot and the fact he now had to face his siblings.
It was all too surreal for him, for years knowing he had blood related siblings who he had accepted to never meet. But now as he was faced with their gaze all on him, he didn’t know what to do.
Years of never having straight answers and simply taking what he had for face value came creeping up. At this came up a lightbulb, he’d go back to habit it seems.
As quickly as his grimace look emerged, it was replaced by the signature McDuck scowl. In tow came the McDuck attitude to subdue his discomfort at this eventful afternoon.
“Watcha looking at, huh? Watch your step next time, you bampot!”
“So Sorry! It was an accid-”
A pregnant pause spawned between the room’s residents. Despite the rugged mug on the face, they could recognize this kid, more specifically, his face.
The boys had grown up seeing replicas of their faces each time they looked at one another, so seeing the same reflection in a different person was offbeat for each of them.
Unconsciously, the three slowly descended on the orange clad replica, their eyes wide in bewilderment. Stewart’s heart raced rapidly at this action, not enjoying the encroachment in his residence and much less his personal space.
An annoyed huff left his lungs, chest puffed out like he’d seen Scrooge do during his board meetings.
“Back off you Wallopers before I shove my foot up each-”
“HAHAHA, let’s all just cool down for a second here”, Webby began in an attempt to defuse this situation, placing herself in front of Stewart as a pseudo barrier. Her left hand swam behind her back, going straight towards Stewart’s left hand with a gentle squeeze for grounding reassurance.
While it had been a dream of hers to see all the nephews meet, she knew this was not the manner that Stewart would be comfortable with in the slightest. Her head churned ferociously, trying to think of a distraction to get the trio to cease their justified curiosity.
“Wanna see the Wing of Secrets? It was valuable items of past adventures that tell you a lot about this world’s mysteries”
And bingo, the inclusion of mystery, adventure, and valuables won over each one of the trio individually with ease. Though Dewey seemed apprehensive at this all, eyes narrowing slightly, he relented as he too was curious. A sigh of relief met Webby’s ears in a win.
The Wing of Secrets was a damp room seasoned with dust in each crevasse it harbored, but it lived up to its name as items that held great world history were scattered everywhere.
Pitter patters of webbed feet echoed throughout the space, the trio excitedly looked at everything possible.
“The Gong of Pixiu, hit it three times to release unspeakable evil”, Webby exclaimed like a curator to the three.
Louie had begun placing green post-it notes on many items he seemed valuable, explaining, “What, he looks old so I’m calling dibs”, when asked why.
While Stewart had laid in the background throughout the excursion, he realized how lost the three would be in this place as he stopped Louie from placing a note on a glass encircled gauntlet.
“Aight! Maybe get your hands off from this, one touch of the Medusa Gauntlet and you’d befall to a lifeless stone statue”
Without much care into his well-being, Louie looked upon Stewart before casting his gaze back to the gauntlet. With a slight shrug, he gave a lazy smile and proceeded to place the green slip onto the glass, “Eh, we’ll call this one a maybe then”, before continuing on his greedy path.
Stewart could only roll his eyes at this, but didn’t feel as annoyed as he thought he would.
“This place is incredible!”, Huey exclaimed in his exuberant state, though it fell short once his middle sibling caught his attention.
“It’s fake”, Dewey spat bitterly, his eyes staring at a portrait presenting his Uncle Donald conquering a Pirate Ship with Scrooge.
“Is that Uncle Donald?”
Webby’s gaze became wild at having the chance to explain more about McDuck history.
“Oh yea, he was mister McDuck’s old sidekick!”
Huey casted a confused look at her before backtracking towards Louie, both shaking their heads in agreement.
“Dewey’s right-”
“-Totally fake-”
Both Huey and Louie continued from one another before Dewey began, “Uncle Donald has never done anything cool”.
Stewart couldn’t help but snort at this, knowing the statement would rile up Webby. He didn’t catch his siblings flinging a quick look at him in his chuckle, the three noticing his smile was the same as when Huey would find something of interest.
“WHAT? Donald Duck is one of the most daring adventurers of all time!”, her hands bouncing up in exclamation like an inflatable in a car dealership. This didn’t stop Dewey from countering her, “This has got to be a fake, and I bet everything else is too”.
A frustrated groan oozed from Stewart at this, not enjoying someone calling Scrooge a fake, “What’re you, an eejit? What about this picture of Scrooge over a Chupacabra?”.
“Probably photoshop”, Huey quipped back dryly.
Webby pushed for trust, pointing at a chest nearby before opening it, “Ok and this treasure chest then?”
“Likely bought at an auction”, Louie shrugged.
Webby opened her mouth, prepared to continue countering the trio till her valiant death, before a cloth covered being emerged from the chest.
All five of them stepped back, apprehensive at this sudden movement, before the cloth slid off the creature. It was a phantom-like creature of transparent blue pigmentation, its claws sharp like the boat blades the trio’s Uncle Donald warned them to stay away from daily.
Dewey’s mouth cracked agape, realizing the reality of this all as it radiated air colder than the already damp room.
“Curse ye, yer scurvy life-lubbers!”, the creature growled before swiping at the children foolhardily.
While luckily none of them were injured, they didn’t need a second swipe to know when to run.
Being the McDuck guide she was, Webby of course knew exactly who this was:“It's Captain Panhook, the Scourge of the River Stixs!”
Stewie and Dewey garnered the same idea, both grabbing the first weapon nearby: pirate swords.
“Oh my gosh it’s real! It’s really really real!” Dewey gasped out, his arms trembling like they ached as he pointed the blade towards the phantom.
The smile on the creature's beak widened at this, the blade both ducks held glowed the same color as the phantom before them levitated on their own accord all around the room.
Webby’s blood ran cold at the sight of one of the blades banging once against a golden gong. The item itself would release a curse at the expense of three simple rings on itself. Worse of it all, the curse would be a dragon that’d eat gold, a currency that Scrooge was famously known to have more than plenty.