Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Ducktales: Twenty Years Later - Episode 7
Kind of a short one today, but hopefully with some illuminating character moments (And don't worry Joe Carioca fans, He comes back later).
Pic isn't any kind of Drawfaggery from me, but I was reading a Donald Duck story, and I thought this panel was kind of interesting when you take the relationship between my version of Dewey and Louie into account.
At about hour three over the Atlantic ocean, on the way from Bahia to drop off the Cariocas, to Usland and Cape Suzette, the boys officially ran out of things to do to pass the time.
"Which one do you think was the cutest?" said Huey, who had engaged the autopilot feature of the Seaduck, which involved tying the controls down with a rope and a crowbar so they couldn't move. He was sitting in the passenger area with his brothers and Webigail, who was sleeping.
"What are you talking about?" asked the Green Phantom, who couldn't even change out of his stuffy costume thanks to stupid Dewey not being able to figure out his real identity.
"The girls. Joe's Neices... Daughters... whatever. Which one do you think was the cutest?"
"They were practically identical, Huey," Louie answered.
"I know, but wasn't Rosalina just a little firecracker?"
"And Amalia was such a shrinking violet. She barely said two words to me the whole time they were with us."
"Not surprising," cut in Dewey, "she doesn't know a word of English."
"But of course there was little Maria. I think she had the best rack."
"Jesus Christ, Huey. Must we talk about this?" said Louie, "I do believe I was much too busy running from South American communists to pay attention to Maria's... er..."
"Yes. And besides that, we've already had that conversation three times since Webby went to sleep, and it was no less awkward then so drop it."
Huey blinked at his brother's outburst. The Green Phantom leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest and closing his eyes, trying to will the plane to go faster. Recovering from Louie's annoyed rage, Huey's eyes half-closed, and a smile came over his bill.
"Too bad Louie couldn't make it out here, huh?"
Green Phantom opened his eyes, and was about to say something when he noticed Dewey react, throwing up his hands, and saying, "Forget about that spendthrift. I'm glad he's not around. Things will go much smoother without him gumming up the works."
Louie's face began to blush, and strong words crowded up at the tip of his tongue, but were held back by the sense of honor among superheroes that demanded he keep himself masked. Huey noted this and, with a further smile, went on.
"What is it with you and Louie anyway, Dewey? What happened between you two?" He then turned his face towards the Green Phantom, "If you don't mind talking family business in front of strangers."
"Oh no. I'll trumpet it high and low. Louie was a lousy partner."
Louie's face, hidden partially behind the mask, was held in a rictus, barely containing his rising anger at both of his brothers.
"How so. What actually happened?"
Dewey rolled his eyes, "Like I believe you care about things like that, Huey."
"What? Come on. I want to know why you two are always fighting all the time. What's up with that?"
With a nod, Dewey agreed, "Fine." He leaned back and began to prepare for story time. "You see, it was a few months after you left, and the two of us had decided to run McDuck Enterprises together. It was Uncle Scrooge's wish that we, the three of us, would continue the company, but of course..."
"Uncle Sam called instead, and I played hookey."
"...right. So there we were, two kids, pretty much, running a multi-bajillion dollar empire. It soon became clear that the two of us were not quite so compatible in business as we thought we would be.
"The trouble started when Louie started to get into... charity work."
"Ch-charity work?" Huey stammered out. The boys had had a fascinating view of charity, due to their duel upbringing. Donald Duck, a decent sort, rarely thought about thinks like that, barely having two cents to rub together himself, and their Uncle Scrooge took the word 'give' to be a dirty word. Huey understood the need for charity, in theory, but hard-coded life lessons from their great uncle stayed his hand from giving too generously to anything if he couldn't get anything back.
Dewey nodded his head, his face showing the same disdain that Scrooge would have in the same situation, "And not worth it in the least. It was something about books and teachers and Africa."
"Teachers Crossing Borders," interjected Louie.
"Right, something wishy-washy like that," Dewey was beginning to get into the story, "So when I find out he's been sending money away anonymously... Without making adequate records, mind, so we don't even get to claim it on our taxes... I put my foot down. I tell him there's no profit in it, and if there's no profit than the company should have nothing to do with it. Do you know what he did after that?"
"No," said Huey, "What?"
"He was going on and on about 'moral responsibility' or something or other, when he tries to make a point. He takes out a fresh one hundred dollar bill, and tells me 'It's just paper if you don't use it' and- get this- he sets the bill on fire and dumps it in the trash!"
"No!" said Huey, torn between beginning to regret using Dewey to bait Louie, and genuine shock at finding out that Louie has defaced money, a crime in the Duck family punishable by death.
The Green Phantom, not willing to let himself go unrepresented, jumped in, "So he burned a Benjamin. So what? You seem like you were being unreasonable."
"All due respect Phantom," said Dewey, "But this is a family matter. Butt out."
"Why you little, no good..."
But, alas, Louie's scathing comment could not be completed. There was a loud boom from outside, over the hum of the spinning propellers, and all three ducks looked out the window. Webby was suddenly roused by the roar and rubbed her eyes.
"Bad news, fellers," said Huey as he began to walk towards the cockpit, "We've got SIL."
"Who?" asked Webby.
Louie answered quickly as he began to buckle his seatbelt, "International anti-sky piracy and smuggling strike force."
"Oh. Why would they want us?"
Huey took up his CB radio and hailed the Iron Vulture. Almost immediately, those Spanish-inflected tones lilted up towards him.
"Ah! So the little duck has come home to roost."
Huey's brow crowded in on itself, before he began to answer, "Hey Junior. How's tricks?"
"Just ever so peachy keen," said Commodore Perry Kid with barely disguised contempt, "Now if you will, I have need to inspect your craft."
"We ain't hauling anything, Junior, can't you give us a pass just this once?"
"Now now, Mr. Duck. If I gave passes to you I would have to give passes to everybody I meet, yes no?"
Huey sat at the pilot's seat, grumbling as he undid the 'autopilot,' "Fine. Open up the vulture's beak. We're flying in." He then slammed down the CB, making sure to make as much noise with it as possible to annoy the operators on the other side.
Louie and Dewey came into the cabin slowly, as if they were treading on ground they weren't quite sure they were allowed in. Louie spoke, "What did they want?"
"To inspect our cargo, obviously," Answered Dewey, "and we've got nothing to hide, so I don't see why not. Maybe they can give us a lift. We can save money on gas."
"From these hard-asses?" answered Huey as he lined up the Sea Duck with the gaping maw of the Iron Vulture, "I doubt it."
The yellow plane came to a screeching stop on the long landing strip inside the Iron Vulture as a crewmember held up two orange flags, directing the Sea Duck to arrive at a full stop in a space set up for it. The spinning propellers slowed to a halt and the engines quieted themselves down to a barely audible hum, before being silenced altogether.
"All right Junior," said Huey as he opened the door and stepped out of the plane, "I've got an old junk heap of a car, a first aid kit and three passengers. You're free to search top to bottome but I promise you guys won't find anything worth your- ulp!"
With a gun pointed in his face, Huey couldn't help but give an involuntary gulp. His eyes darted around the room, revealing that the Sea Duck was surrounded on all sides by the crew of the SIL.
"Hello, Huey Duck and passengers," said the Commodore, standing on a walkway up above, speaking through a megaphone, "Please to be walking out with your hands up and we will not be forced to shoot."
Huey crossed his eyes as he looked into the gaping gun-barrel, held by the thick-looking dog Huey knew to be called "Rand." He slowly turned his head into the plane, moving his hands to where Rand could see them, "Come on out everyone, and be careful about it."
One by one, the small crew of the Sea Duck, Business-attired Dewey, the amateur superhero the Green Phantom, and Webigail Vanderquack the Personal Assistant, stepped out into the hangar, hands in the air. As soon as Dewey walked out, he was grabbed roughly by several SIL men and slammed to the ground.
"OWCH! What's the big idea? You can't do this to me! I'll sue!"
"We got him Commodore!" called up a scraggly cat holding down Dewey's head.
"Excellent." He laughed gaily as he grasped onto a nearby rope and swashbuckled his way down to the ground. "The bossmen at S.H.U.S.H will be pleased. We have captured the international terrorist Dewey Duck, and his gang of troublemakers."
The four ducks were loud as they demanded explanations for this terrorist business. Huey's was the loudest.
"Have you lost your mind, Kid? Where do you get off calling us terrorists?"
"It is so simple, yes no? You were in Duckburg, Calisota, oh, about a week ago, correct?"
"Yes, but..." began Huey, before something quite like fear crept over his face.
Louie picked up the slack, "You're blaming us for something the Beagle Boys did?"
"Not us," began Kid, "The international community at large has decided to brand you boys as criminals. We just so happen to be the acting arm of the law, come to strike you down, yes no?"
"What are you talking about you incomparable ignoramus?" Yelled Dewey, still pinned to the ground.
"It appears, according to S.H.U.S.H's sources, that the siege on Duckburg by criminals was planned and perpetrated by one man, in a mad grasp for power. A man with enough money and time to plan and train for an event of such scale. Someone with access, perhaps, to the largest pool of money ever collected in one place, hm?"
"I... I would... I'd never!"
"It does not matter what you say. If they say you break a law and I should go after you, then I say you break a law and I come after you. Simple as that." He then rounded on the other three, pushing his hat forward. "Of of course you three are complicit in this, yes?"
With nothing more to say, Louie and Webby clammed up, but Huey's head stayed firmly up in the air. "Bullshit," He said, daring Commodore Kid to come at him.
"So. Telling me to do my job the way you think it should be done? Alright smart guy," He began to approach, a smile appearing on the rust-red fur of his face, "What you gonna do about it? I just know we're gonna put this old antique to good use. Maybe put her in a museum, yes? Or perhaps simply take her apart and use the parts to spruce up the vulture, no? Or perhaps we just melt it down and start over, since I'm sick at the sight of it."
His face was red, and his eyes were wide with rage. This situation was not going his way and he did not like it. His mind raced for words, any words. Cutting, vicious words to come back at this snide man of the law.
"When I get my hands on you, Karnage Junior, I... I'm gonna..."
A big laugh, followed by the entire crew laughing, which only caused Huey's rage to multiply. "This guy thinks he can take me, huh? Calls me Karnage. Who is this Karnage fellow. Surely not the evil, sick, lawless man who ruled the skies forty years ago, no sir. Must mean some other Karnage, yes? I love the law too much to be associated with a man like that, even if I do have a -passing- resemblance to him according o second and third hand accounts. If you say to me words like that you better be able to back them up," His eyebrows raised as his hand hovered near his waist, where a ceremonial sword was hung, "Yes? No?"
Huey stared at the sword, and at the rust-colored hand that fondled the handle, his eyes squinted as he stared. Slowly, he lowered his haunches and raised his fists. The room roared with laughter.
"Huey, no," said Louie, "It's not worth it."
"Shut up, GP."
"YES whoever you are, Shut up!" Said Kid loudly, "Bring me another sword, quickly. We cannot fistfight. You would lose too badly. We shall fight like gentlemen, yes no? With swords."
Soon enough, a sword was thrust into Huey's hands. He fumbled with it for a few seconds, before he dropped it on the floor, to a rousing show of laughs.
"What's wrong, tough guy," taunted Kid, "Pick it up."
Metaphorical smoke poured out of metaphorical ears as Huey picked up the sword slowly. He weighed it in his hand for a moment before he screamed, raising the sword high in the air.
Slice! Huey could suddenly see nobody standing where the Commodore used to be.
"Nice Jacket, Mr. Huey Duck," Kid said, throwing down a bit of brown fluff, "Too bad about the lining."
Huey looked down at his fur-lined collar and gawked. A small section was sliced right off of it with surgical precision. With new resolve and a not reason to rage, Huey began to prepare another strike.
"Observe, men, the common man. Rotted to the core and just a wrong step away from a life of crime, and when back is faced against the wall..." Huey came at him, only to have a button off of his jacket sliced clean off, and held in the commodore's hands. "...He will fight like a rat. No refinement. No Order. Just blind rage."
Louie began to step forward, but a gun at his face settled him down.
"I'll... kill you!"
"And also observe; How the common man's little words fail him. Caught like the rat he is, words, the building blocks of social justice and law, leave his little mouth, bye bye, and are replaced by empty threats."
Huey walked up behind the postulating sky-sailor, and raised his sword to strike him down, only to have an elbow driven into his gut, and a sword's edge at his neck.
"Of of course, he comes from behind, like the filthy, perverted, sick, lawless common man he is." Commodore Kid had begun sweating, not from exertion, for he was clearly only exhibiting the barest minimum of his skill for this fight, but from the passion of the speech. "To sneak up and stab someone in the back, instead of coming before his enemy in the light, that is the way of those who hate the law, yes no?" He grabbed Huey by the neck with an arm and kicked his sword hand, causing the sword to fly away, off into the crowd. "So, you filthy, hateful exile of your own country, will you come peacefully or will I have to..." He put a certain relish to the words that came next, "...cleanse you of my presence?"
It was a tense moment as Huey, his rage leaving him fast as his baser instinct for self-preservation beat out his urge to rearrange the Commodore's face. He dropped his sword, and raised his hands in defeat.
"Ah, and now this common man gives up when there is no way to go on fighting. A coward to the end." He threw Huey to the ground roughly, and sheathed his sword, "Take this and its friends and place them in the Brig. We shall be having accolades all around for this, men."
As the four Ducks were lead, or carried, out of the hangar and towards their new prisons, there was held a cheer for the Commodore. Three cheers for Commodore Kid. Hip-hip-hooray!
"If I'd let him keep his goddamn sword I would have had him!" Yelled Huey as he paced the cell, the fire back in his face.
Louie sat on the small, hard bed in the small jailcell. Since Dewey had been thrown next door with Webby, he felt the he could take off his mask and begin to fan himself with it without any significant loss in honor.
"A master swordsman vs. some scrappy fist fighter?" said Louie, "Even among superheros those are not good odds."
From the next cell over, Dewey yelled, "I hope you realize this is all your fault, whoever you are, Green Phantom."
"Me? What did I do?"
"Isn't is just such a coincidence that wherever we go with you there's some disaster happening."
"Oh, That's just childish, Dewey. You really think I'm doing this?"
"I think you're not helping matters much." Webby shot him a look, which he ignored as he began counting on his fingers. "The Beagle Boys attacked, remember, and there you showed up at my Uncle's money bin with Huey, with barely an explanation."
"That was a coincidence!"
"Of of course, you happened to get there just a -little- too late to stop the Marxists from kidnapping Webby."
"That's not fair. We were going as fast as we could."
Webby, sitting by Dewey, placed her hand gently on his shoulder, "Dewey, perhaps..."
"Not now, Ms. Vanderquack... And now here we are, thrown in the brig with the SIL, somehow having shifted the blame for Duckburg onto me. I don't trust you, Phantom. I don't like you. At least if Louie was coming along I could count on a laugh, but you're just bad news, you hear me?"
"I hear you loud and clear you grimy skinflint."
Huey, unable to threaten Dewey from behind the thick stone wall, could do nothing but try to pacify his two brothers the only way he knew how, "Dewey. I can't believe you haven't guess by now."
Louie's face snapped over to Huey, He had reflexively slammed the mask back onto his face, "Huey! Don't you dare!"
Huey's rage was now being channeled towards something onstructive, and he couldn't be stopped now, "About the truth." He leaned back on the barred door of the cell, so he could speak with Dewey more easily.
"And that would be...?"
Louie whispered to Huey, "Don't you dare tell him, Huey. He's the only one still fooled by my disguise. If it gets out that so many people saw through to my secret identity, I'll be the laughing stock of the hero community."
But Huey was too far gone, "The Green Phantom," He leaned harder on the door, poking his head through the bars to try to look towards his brother next door, "is..."
"What? Is what?"
But there was no answer, except the Green Phantom's calls, "Huey? Huey? Are you all right?"
Dewey and Webby got up from their seats and walked up to the door. They noticed that Huey and GP's cell next door was open, and that Huey was laying on the floor. "What did you do this time?"
"I didn't do anything. He just fell."
Webby scratched her head, "Well then... maybe..." She then pushed on their own cell door, and, lo and behold, it popped open.
"They weren't locked?"
Louie shook his head, "Impossible, we saw them lock these doors ourselves. Plus these are professionals, they couldn't just..."
"Oh, Huey," said Webby as she knelt down to force one of Huey's eyes open. "He's out cold. Must have been too tired from the fight to take the ground coming at him."
"This could be serious," said the Phantom, "These cells couldn't have just unlocked spontaneously. Someone has freed us."
"I'm checking it out," Louie pointed at Webby sitting with Huey, "You get him up and about as soon as you can. We'll need him to fly the plane."
"I'll find out what's going on. Why haven't we seen any guards around for the past hour or so?"
"Wait a second! I'm coming with you. I don't trust you alone any more than I could throw you."
"Stop whining," interrupted Webby, with her finger extended, "Just go."
He grunted, "Fine! Just don't get in my way."
"Only if you don't get in mine first."
Grumbling at their luck, the two bickering Ducks walked on, out of the brig.
As the two Ducks walked through the halls, things just got more and more suspicious. The various canine sky-sailors who made up the crew of the SIL ship were there, at their posts, true, and Louie had dived behind a pile of rope when he saw the first of them, but Dewey, on a hunch, had wandered over and pushed the closest man slightly. Like a tree freshly cut down, the SIL man fell over, his hat falling off of his head, revealing the deep blue lumps and bruises all over his face and scalp.
"This guy had a number done on him," said Dewey as the Green Phantom walked up behind him, "What happened?"
"Whatever it was, it happened to those guys too."
Dewey followed the Phantom's pointer finger towards a small group of SIL piled up into a little hill of black and blue bodies. As the two ducks walked up, they could hear the light groans coming from some of the more conscious men.
Without a word, the two brothers looked at each other, before they went on without a word. Both understood somehow that they shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth. Towards the hangar they went, tracing back he steps they took down to the brig, until they finally made their way towards the large cargo doors. On the other side were voices.
With a nod, and a silent count to three, the two brothers entered into the Hangar as soundlessly as possible, viewing a strange scene indeed.
The Iron Vulture's beak lay open, bathing the entire room in natural, blue sunlight. Around the room there were men strewn about, bent at odd angles. Some weren't moving, and some were cringing and whining in pain. In the center of the room, casting long shadows over the airplanes deeper inside, was Commodore Kid, sword in one hand, gun in the other, fighting a strange, caped character with his back to the boys, causing him to appear to be an amorphous black blob in the bright sunlight. Kid's hat was discarded on the ground, and his uniform had come open, revealing the top of his fuzzy chest. He thrusted his sword towards the weaponless cape, who easily parried, seemingly with nothing at all but his hands.
"Assaulting my men!" Another thrust, easily parried, "Assaulting an officer!" Bang! The gun went off in his hand towards the blob, who was able to anticipate, and knock the gun's aim off course, "Tresspassing! Smuggling! Murder! I will break you, whoever you are!"
However, with that final outburst, Kid gave a last attack towards the strange caped man. The long cloak found its way around his face and for a moment, the boys couldn't see what was going on. They heard meaty thumps and groans, before the cape was whipped away from the Commodore. Dazed from the unseen blow, the officer dropped his sword and fell to the ground, beaten and stunned.
Finished, the figure straightened himself out slowly, revealing white feathers on the back of his head. He turned slowly, revealing an orange duckbill. Once his face was in full view, Louie gasped. A single eye, thin and drawn from age and tension, with a small, face-obscuring mask around it. Where the other eye would be, the mask was opaque. The eye followed the small sound of the Green Phantom's gasp, and began to walk towards Dewey and Louie's hiding place.
Thinking fast, Dewey stood to his full hight, "Er. Thanks for the help. We were in one hell of a jam there."
The figure said nothing, merely walking towards them. He cracked his knuckles loudly. Louie noticed that he was wearing what appeared to be a superhero costume, although it was very shappy and well-used around the knees and elbows.
"Wait. We're not enemies," said Louie loudly, "We're friends. They were our badguys too."
No dice. The Duck continued to walk towards them.
"I- I don't think he means well, Phantom."
"I think you're right."
The two of them suddenly rushed away in two different directions. Dewey ran towards a downed SIL officer, and Louie towards a small trophy display he had seen on the way in. At this sudden movement, the one-eyed figure began to rush as well, running after Dewey.
Dewey dove for the SIL's unconscious body and grabbed at the man's pistol. In one fluid motion, he undid the safety catch and rolled onto his back. He raised the gun quickly, only to have it kicked out of his hands by a yellow, grimy boot. That same boot then found its way onto his face, kicking him hard on the side of the bill, making bright lights explode in his vision.
Dewey still had the presence of mind to speak. "Who... Who are..." But he was silenced by the man's leather-gloved fist.
Suddenly, there was a cracking noise, and the black-clad figure straightened out, making a harsh cry of pain. Dewey, still reeling from the blow to the face, looked past the aggressor to see The Green Phantom, waving a long, leather length of cord, a whip, over his head, before bringing it down on the unknown enemy's back once again, crossing with the small lash he had made before.
With a guttural growl, the one-eyed duck turned quickly, with a flourish of his cape. Louie, breathing hard, prepared to brandish the whip once again. With a snap, the whip came down against this new duck's cheek, leaving a thin, bloody stripe. He did not flinch. Pulling back once again, Louie let the whip fly. A black arm came up suddenly, snatching the long, leather whip out of the air and pulling. Louie was unprepared for the surprisingly strong grip that wrenched the handle out of his hand.
Suddenly unarmed, Louie fumbled around his pockets, trying to find something useful for this situation, only succeeding in pulling out the Fingerprint-analyzing metal toilet plunger. Shrugging his shoulders, he gave a guttural war cry to the advancing enemy, raising the metal object high. It sang through the air as it was swung down, towards that one-eyed head.
However, the leather-gloved hand was too fast. It grasped the plunger-carrying hand and twisted. The object fell from Louie's grip as he gave a truncated yell, before a fist was driven into his stomach, and he was allowed to fall to the floor, clutching himself where he had been struck. He felt a warmth flow up his gullet, and soon had regurgitated his Baiano breakfast he had had with José's family before they left.
Staring at the two Duck boys, one dazed and dizzy on the floor, and the other struggling not to let his face dip into a pool of his own sick, the masked stranger scoffed and began to walk towards the opened maw of the Iron Vulture.
"W-wait!" cried Louie, or at least muttered Louie, "who are you?"
The duck went to the edge of the Iron Vulture's beak before he answered, looking towards Louie's masked face with his own.
He then jumped, apparently without aid of parachute, before the Green Phantom blacked out.
"Urrh... Ulp! Where!?" Louie screamed.
He sat up like a shot and looked around himself quickly. He was sitting across two seats on the Sea duck, and his head and stomach still felt every blow that had been dealt to him.
"Lou... Phantom," said Webby, "You're awake."
He looked over, seeing that Dewey had had an icepack applied to his head, and was still apparently sleeping.
"We found you both beaten up in the hangar. We decided to escape. What happened to you and Dewey?" Her emphasis on Dewey's welfare caused Louie to feel bad for hating the bastard so much lately.
"We were blindsided by some guy. A cape, like me, I think. Maybe a villain." Holding his stomach, he sighed, the nausea had not left. "He was... A duck. Older guy too. I don't know... Fifty? Too old to be as good as he was."
"But what did he want? When I found you, you were..."
"I don't know. He... I think he was helping us escape. When we found him he was fighting that crazy Officer, Captain, Commodore guy. But... Owch."
He looked around lazily, "Where are we? Ballpark."
"Last I checked, over Africa. We were able to siphon off enough fuel from the Vulture to get us all the way to Cape Suzette." Webby's voice was quivering as she held the sleeping Dewey's head in her lap. "What happened? Why did those maniacs think Dewey lead the Beagle Boys? It makes no sense at all."
"No. It doesn't, at least not from our perspective." He stood, intending to walk off the pain he still felt in his face and stomach, "But think about how the public feels about it."
"What do you mean?"
"We knew people, people like Uncle Scrooge. We knew all of his flaws and failures, but we were more than willing to look over them when he would give you that little wink and come up with the harebrained scheme to save the day, and let you swim in his bin on his time off. We knew him as this sweet old man with great stories about how he made his fortune, who protected his fortune and principles and his family with every fiber of his being." He gave Dewey a sidelong glance, "But think about how he must have looked from the outside.
"Reclusive, openly hostile towards the media, never gave a penny to charity if he couldn't make a nickel off of it. He was a character all right, and people ate him all up, but they didn't like him. The only thing that saved him from being crucified by the papers were the even worse villains that came after him and his family and money. Dewey is in the same boat."
"He's following in Uncle Scrooge's footsteps to the T... a little too close if you ask me... and the media is just seeing him as a carbon copy. Already, that's points against them in their minds." He sat, all that pacing making him dizzy. "And there isn't nearly as much excitement as there was during Scrooge's time, so there's nothing interesting about him to redeem him from his flaws in the minds of the people. There's no reason they shouldn't believe that he was the one that perpetrated that siege on Duckburg, just because he's clearly a spiteful, vindictive, greedy trust fund baby." Webby glared at him. "Er... At least that's what they're probably thinking."
"So how can we..."
"I don't know. I don't think we can. At least not until we know what actually happened after we left the country. Cape Suzette seems like a good enough place to settle down as any." He leaned back in his seat, his stomach beginning to feel better. "So how long did Huey say this trip would take?"
"Last I heard, he said it would be twelve hours, with a stopover somewhere along the way."
"Ugh. How long ago was this?"
"About a half hour ago."
"Great." He moved his facemask slightly to one side, covering up both of his eyes and making an effective sleep mask. "If Huey starts talking about Maria's tits, make sure to punch him for me."