Chapter 1

"You do know we're not supposed to be in here, right?" Huey said, frowning at Webby and Gosalyn. The two girls were staring determinedly at Lena, who had managed to turn around in the time between finding her before and now. She was still mouthing "help me", which was disconcerting. He wanted to help her, he did, but the only person he could think of who might be able to do anything was Gyro. Did he want to enlist Gyro's help? Gyro could be prickly at the best of times.

"She shouldn't be stuck like this, either," Webby countered, reaching out to touch Lena but encountering a force field. About a minute later, Lena's face slowly fell.

"Maybe we could just shut it off?" Gosalyn suggested, glancing about the small room. "There must be a switch somewhere."

"Uncle Scrooge had a very good reason for keeping her in stasis," Huey argued.

"You seriously think it's a good idea to keep a kid like us trapped for fifteen years?" Gosalyn argued. "Look at her. She's miserable. We have to set her free."

"I don't think we should be doing anything until we know what we're dealing with. If we release her, we risk unleashing Magica onto Duckburg too. And who knows what will happen," Huey said.

"She's been trapped in there for fifteen years," Gosalyn said. "Fifteen. Years. It's like a fridge horror moment, except it's forever."

"Given the speed she's going at, at least it hasn't felt like fifteen years?" he offered.

"That's not good enough," Gosalyn retorted. She was warming to her subject, he could tell, and he had the dread feeling he might have encouraged her. Webby was inspecting the apparatus that held Lena in stasis. The ominous sensation in the pit of his stomach expanded. Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no.

The apparatus in question was a stone monolith with a sparkling gem at its center. It was inscribed in runes that Huey couldn't read, though Webby seemed to be able to decipher it. Her finger traced the words as her eyes scanned the stone.

"She's in prison and she didn't even do anything wrong," Gosalyn added. "She's a kid like us and you're letting her be miserable. Now that you know she's miserable, your not doing anything to stop or fix it is almost as bad as her being in there in the first place."

"How do you figure that?" Huey asked and then jerked his head. "Webby, no. Don't mess with magic you don't understand."

"I understand it," Webby said just before she ripped the gem out of the stone tablet. It crumbled into ash at her fingertips and, at once, things began to happen. The lights flickered and died, a woman cackled into the darkness, and a girl took a deep, gasping breath before collapsing to her knees. The lights came back on a minute later, but Huey feared the damage was already done. The woman cackling had sent chills down his spine.

"Wait, what?" the girl gasped, having fallen to her hands and knees now. She blinked rapidly and the light appeared to hurt her eyes because she raised a hand to her forehead. The sudden movement took her by surprise too and she crashed to the floor.

"Guys, this really wasn't a good idea," Huey said.

"Too late to worry about it now," Gosalyn scoffed and smiled at her sister. "Good going, Webs."

Webby was gazing at Lena and she knelt down to offer her a hand up. Lena stared blankly at it as if she'd never seen another hand before. Considering Huey didn't know how long she'd been around before Uncle Scrooge had shoved her into stasis, it was possible she hadn't. Gosalyn's words gnawed at him. Even if Webby hadn't taken the initiative, he would've felt guilty leaving her like that.

Lena seemed to be taking a long time to adjust to her new reality. She was trembling all over, like a skittish colt, and when she raised herself up slightly, she crashed back down. The abrupt movement, after being stuck in slow motion for so long, must've been jarring. Gosalyn shot Huey a look as if it was his fault his great-uncle had put Lena in a magically enforced prison for fifteen years.

Lena's breathing came faster and faster until he recognized the signs-she was about to hyperventilate. Webby scooped her up off the floor, which only worsened the condition. Again, they didn't know how long she'd been conscious before being shoved into the containment field. Gosalyn was right. It was a fridge horror moment.

"You're okay, you're okay," Webby reassured her, rubbing her back. Lena gasped, beak quivering, and pulled away from her. She tripped over her own feet and fell onto the floor again. Her eyes were huge.

"Guys, give her some space," Huey advised. "Give her a minute to breathe and figure out what's going on."

Gosalyn stared at her and Huey huffed.

"And stop looking at her like a circus freak," he reprimanded.

Gosalyn huffed but looked away. Webby's gaze was earnest and, after about five minutes, Lena was able to return it. She rose to her feet again and this time she didn't fall. However, her eyes still darted about the room like mad. What was she looking for, exactly?

"Where is she?" Lena demanded. "Where's Magica?"

"We might've accidentally released her when we saved you," Gosalyn said, chagrined. "But it's fine. How far could she go?"

Lena groaned and her chest heaved, looking like she was one step away from another panic attack. Webby and Gosalyn had been well-intentioned, but this was a lot to dump on someone who had essentially woken up from a fifteen-year nightmare. They might've been taking it a bit too fast.

"Take it easy," Huey advised. "We're here to help. I'm Huey, the redhead is Gosalyn, and the other girl is Webby."

"Right," Lena said and held her hands to her head. She forced a smile that looked painful. "We need to figure out where Magica went."

"Like I said, how far could she have gotten? She's just a shadow," Gosalyn snorted.

"A shadow that's no longer attached to me," Lena answered. "One that's free to wreak havoc all over wherever we are."

"You don't know where we are?" Huey said, surprised.

"The last thing I remember was being born out of a magical melee on Mount Vesuvius. Everything after that is blurry until you woke me up," Lena said and put her hands on her hips.

"What I don't get is how Magica detached herself from Lena," he said. "That was the whole reason she was in stasis, to keep Magica from running free. The instant we release her, Magica vanishes?"

"She didn't vanish," Lena said. "She's looking for a host."

"Wait, what?" Huey said.

"You mean like a demon?" Gosalyn asked, sounding enamored with the idea. Huey, however, was less enthusiastic. Honestly, the idea of being possessed was unnerving. It figured Gosalyn was into all that macabre mumbo-jumbo.

"...yes…" Lena said though she looked uncertain. "No. I don't know. You have to forgive me. I've only technically been alive for five minutes."

This last she said accusingly at Huey. Great, another girl was blaming him for what Uncle Scrooge had done. How was this even remotely his fault? He hadn't even been alive when Lena had come into being.

"Then how do you know she's looking for a host?" Webby asked.

"Because that was why she was latched onto me," Lena said. "She had plans for me and then you destroyed the tablet and broke the spell over us. But you also left her free to find someone else to latch onto, someone she must have a familiarity with."

"Who does Magica have familiarity with? Besides Uncle Scrooge?" Huey asked of no one in particular.

Lena shook her head. She searched for somewhere to sit down, but now that she was out of stasis, the room was empty. Her breathing was none too steady and her legs quaked. Webby let her lean on her.

"We can't tell Mr. McDuck what happened here," Webby said.

"Unless he already knows because Magica ran out cackling," Huey pointed out with a scowl. "What were you two thinking? Honestly."

"If Scrooge knows Magica's here, it's already too late," Lena said with a head shake. She frowned again, looking dizzy, and then crashed back to the floor. Gravity was clearly not her friend here. Then again, it was probably disorienting to move at normal speed after being trapped for so long.

"I'm gonna...just...stay here for a bit…" she said. "The floor's cool."

"Are you okay?" Webby asked, cocking her head at her. Lena gave her a look as if to say she was asking a rather stupid question. Huey agreed.

"Guys, we can't keep her here," Huey said. "Uncle Scrooge is going to notice the next time he comes into the Other Bin that something's happened."

"No alarms went off," Gosalyn argued. "He wouldn't know unless he checked in and how is he supposed to know that something's gone wrong in a huge warehouse worth of stuff?"

"We can't keep Lena here," Huey retorted. "She has to eat and sleep like a normal person. And sooner or later, Mrs. Beakley would notice if we kept sneaking off."

"Maybe we should've thought this through a little better," Gosalyn admitted sheepishly. "But what's done is done. We can't put the cat back into the bag."

Lena wasn't hyperventilating anymore; she was staring at them curiously. She made no motion to leave the floor. Perhaps the floor felt safer than standing right now. He didn't blame her.

"So what do we do now, hmm?" Huey said.

"We could keep her in my room," Webby suggested. "Or in the closet."

"Yes, that's what I've always wanted," Lena deadpanned. "To live in your closet."

"How do you know what sarcasm is already?" Huey asked.

"I was born this way," Lena said with a shrug. "Deal with it, red."

"We'll figure it out later," Gosalyn scoffed. "Let's just get out of here before someone notices we're gone. Or tells on us."

"Dewey and Louie won't tell on us," Huey said with more confidence than he felt. Louie wouldn't if he felt like it'd give him an edge over Huey. He didn't need his youngest brother lording something over him.

"Then let's go," Gosalyn said.

"I think you're forgetting something," Lena said. "I can barely stand. How do you propose to walk me through...wherever I am?"

"I'll carry you," Webby said and then scooped Lena up like a bride over the threshold. "See?"

Lena's eyes met Webby's. "I barely know you and I don't even know what to make of you, pink."

Webby blushed.

Darkwing Duck was pacing his lair and thinking aloud to Launchpad, who had recovered from his beating at Bulba's hands. Okay, perhaps "recovered" wasn't quite the right word. He was still bandaged and moved slowly, but he was capable of getting around now. Launchpad's gaze was full of hero worship, which Darkwing appreciated but which wasn't terribly useful at the moment.

At present, St. Canard was under another blackout. Ever since the month began, there had been rolling blackouts, the type that one normally saw in the summer, not late winter/early spring. Since the sun was still up, he could see where he was pacing, but once the sun went down, the criminals ran amuck. He would have suspected Megavolt for this-he was the obvious choice-but Megavolt was locked up in St. Canard's jail pending trial for his last act. It left Darkwing baffled, because who else had an affinity with electricity? Or was this unrelated to electricity after all and someone was experimenting?

Of course, it could've been his arch-nemesis, Negaduck. Of his evil counterpart, he had seen little since he'd adopted Gosalyn a couple months ago. It was odd, too, because it was unlike Negaduck to lay low. Since when did he care about staying off Darkwing's radar? They might be identical twins separated at hatching, but their shared arrogance and cockiness ensured they were always in each other's orbit. No, Negaduck's absence made absolutely no sense.

Negaduck was one of the few villains that hadn't made an appearance on the old Darkwing Duck show, from which Drake Mallard had taken his moniker. That was because Negaduck was Drake's foe, not his father's. Megavolt, Quackerjack, and Liquidator had all had previous incarnations, which was disturbing if Darkwing stopped to think about it. He didn't. Jim Starling had died doing one of his stunts as Darkwing Duck and Darkwing had sworn to avenge him, especially as it had been a combination of Megavolt's father and Liquidator's uncle that had destroyed him.

How did supervillains end up duplicating themselves, anyway? You'd think one would've been a cautionary tale to keep the other from happening again. Oh, well, that didn't matter right now. He pivoted, glancing over at Launchpad. The pilot had had nothing to offer him; the adulation was appreciated.

"Hey, DW," Launchpad mused, absently tracing a circle on the Ratcatcher. "Where does Negaduck go when he's not in St. Canard?"

"I…" Darkwing faltered. "That's a good question, LP."

"I do come up with them once in a while."

"Lightning has to strike somewhere once in a while," Darkwing muttered. Still, that was a good question. Simply because Darkwing hadn't rooted out Negaduck's present location didn't mean he wasn't still in St. Canard. Or if he had left town, where would he have gone? He was the leader of the Fearsome Five and with these blackouts, robberies and felony crimes had skyrocketed. It wasn't safe to be out at night in St. Canard now. There were too many crimes for even Darkwing and, on occasion, Gizmoduck too, to handle. The police had their hands full too.

"Who stands to benefit from all of this chaos? FOWL's not an issue right now, not after we defeated Bulba and Doofus Drake…" Darkwing mused.

"You think someone's enabling them?" Launchpad offered.

"Two excellent suggestions in a row," Darkwing said and then stared at his sidekick. "Who are you and what have you done with Launchpad?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Launchpad answered.

"I'd have been shocked if you did," he said, shaking his head.

The villain could have someone on the inside to ensure that the power grid remained knocked out at night, every night. Could Megavolt be working this even through the jail? Had someone sprung him without consulting Darkwing first? Every time he came up with an answer, it felt like a thousand more questions sprang up in its wake. This was so frustrating.

"We'll start with the St. Canard jail first," Darkwing said. He paused. "You, uh, you don't have any appointments with Scrooge McDuck that I need to worry about, do you? He was not happy the last time I 'borrowed' you for an afternoon without telling him."

"I don't think so," Launchpad answered. He checked his phone. "Nope. Free all day."

"Good," Darkwing said. "Grab your helmet, LP, and let's get dangerous."

They pulled out of the secret lair, down the bridge, and into town. From there, streetlights flickered, though they shouldn't have been on in the day in the first place. Electronic displays sputtered, died, and sprang back to life. Quackerjack's toys were running rampant, causing chaos wherever they went. He parked the Ratcatcher and sidestepped a line of tin soldiers marching with bayonets thrust upward. You could poke someone's eye out with one of those. Or, considering that they came up to his thighs, something lower and much more painful.

"They're getting bold, to do this in the daytime," Darkwing commented as they rounded the corner, passed a drugstore, a comic bookstore (where they were still selling his comics), and onto the police station. He heaved the door open and let Launchpad in. The police station was frenetic, so active that no one noticed their entrance. Darkwing cleared his throat. No one paid him any mind. None of the officers were even looking in their direction.

Darkwing cleared his throat louder. "Ahem! Who do I have to yell at to get some attention around here?"

Finally, one of the police officers, a bull, condescended to look at him. After Darkwing's recent experience with Taurus Bulba, he gulped. The bull glowered at him and Darkwing smiled sheepishly. Maybe he should've been a tad less aggressive. He stepped up to the window with Launchpad at his heels.

"Hey, uh, quick question," Darkwing said. "Is Megavolt still down in your holding cell?"

The bull stared so long and hard at Darkwing that he feared he had something in his teeth. Or else someone had attached a sign to his back.

"Is something wrong?" Darkwing asked.

Wordlessly, the bull beckoned him to follow him down to where the holding cells were. Or, rather, where they'd been. Now, instead of a hallway full of criminals awaiting sentencing, the wind blew in through a giant hole in the wall. It was chilly, too, and Darkwing hugged himself for warmth.

"Does that answer your question?" the bull demanded. There wasn't even a holding cell anymore. The hole in the wall had taken out the entire back wall, leaving only bits and pieces remaining. Darkwing envied Launchpad his bomber jacket.

"What happened here? And why wasn't I informed?" he demanded, testy.

"One, because this is a private police matter," the bull responded and his eyes narrowed. "And two, we don't like vigilantes here."

"You let Gizmoduck work here!"

"Gizmoduck's mother is a police officer. Your father got himself killed fighting Liquidator and Megavolt. Excuse me for not being impressed."

Darkwing bristled. "I don't tell you how to do your job."

"You literally just did."

"All the criminals we had captured are somewhere in St. Canard. They have been aided by the Fearsome Five, in collaboration with Negaduck," the bull responded. Darkwing couldn't help but notice that he had a mustard stain on his lapel. That appealed to his petty vindictiveness right now. How dare this police sergeant bring up Jim Starling like that?

"Negaduck's around too?" Darkwing snapped.

"It's been a long week."

The bull ushered Darkwing out into the main lobby. "Fix the power grid and get the criminals in line. Then we'll talk. Darkwing Duck."

The last he spat like an epithet. Darkwing glowered.

"Yeah, well, at least I'm not wearing what I ate for lunch on my uniform," he said haughtily as they left the station.

"Was that really necessary, DW?" Launchpad asked.

"He took a potshot at my dad," Darkwing retorted. "Of course it was necessary."

"What do we do now?" Thankfully, Launchpad seemed content to let the topic die for the time being. That was one good thing about him. He didn't pry all that often. He was also a complete airhead, which Darkwing still hadn't decided was a good quality or not.

"Figure out where the others might have gone. Speaking of that, where is Gosalyn? She's supposed to be back at the house for dinner in an hour."

"I brought her to McDuck Manor, remember?"

"Jeez, it's a sad day when I need you to stimulate my memory," he muttered. "C'mon. We'd better pick her up and hope she hasn't broken anything we need to pay for."

Truth be told, if she had, he wouldn't have the money. And Scrooge was already garnishing Launchpad's wages for one thing or another, so he couldn't exactly hit him up for money. Not that Launchpad was getting paid a lot, to begin with. Scrooge McDuck was a legendary spendthrift. Since he'd hired Launchpad before he'd gotten his driver's license and possibly his piloting license too, he'd been paying him under the table. Darkwing wouldn't have been surprised if Launchpad was making below minimum wage. He wasn't complaining because he was happy go lucky, but Darkwing would've been.

"Aw, what's the worst that could happen?"

"Do you really want to know?" Darkwing said and glowered at him. "Complete bedlam. That's what."