#rhonda dendron

[63n3437]

Too Busy Sunday!

“Live outside the state-of-the-art Duckliar Foundation, awaiting the newly appointed Chief Executive Officer of the Duckliar Enterprise, Mr. Solomon Hecks.”

“Wait, Duckliar? Isn’t he the genius who disappeared years ago? Fifteen years, to be exact,” Huey piped up, looking over his handbook.

“Ohhh! Did he make cool things like nanobots or laser guns? Maybe a super flying jet?!” Dewey’s hands flew everywhere in the excitement nearly hitting Louie in the face. Louie swatted the offending hand in annoyance, looked up from his phone, and snorted dismissively.

“Eh,” he shrugged. “Looks like another start-up.”

“Start-up!” Webby exploded from behind the couch, startling the triplets as she squished herself between Dewey and Huey. “No way. They were the most mysterious and probably one of the richest families in the world! Of course, it is nothing compared to your–erm–our family, but I have a separate board just for them.”

Scrooged harrumphed from his armchair, “The man’s no genius, reappearing just to disappear, leaving everything behind. Just looked at what happened to the tower. Gone!”

“You mean the Duckliar Tower?” Della entered the room carrying stacks of chips and sweets in her arms. Penumbra trailing behind, carrying liters of soda. “I was surprised it was replaced by a park. Does Everett still own the land? The last time I visited the area was under the administration of SVA….MP?”

“The Society for the Valorization of Duckburg Monuments manages sites that have historical significance, similar to the program from New Quackmore.” Huey said, closing his handbook with a snap, “If the tower had historical value, we sure don’t know how it could happen.”

“Duckliar Enterprise has been making its presence known after the disastrous moon-vasion. Despite the damage of the unexpected alien attack, which halted some of its operations, they were able to resume as soon as possible to build the Ducklair Foundation.”

Louie scooted next to Dewey to make space for Della and Penumbra. Della snatched one of the popcorn bowls and passed the rest of the snacks around. “Well, it’s another mystery of the Duckliar clan.”

Webby squirmed in her seat. “Oh my gosh! New lore!” She exclaimed with a hushed voice forcing herself not to run off to her room and start updating her board.

“Excuse guys, movie night?” Louie sensing that they would go off the rails again, gestured towards the screen. “Anyone?”

“Yeah – enough about Ducklair, it’s movie night! We need to show Penumbra how to have fun while sitting –”

“Which I doubt.”

“And why is it so much better than exploring the secret of an Incan treasury,” Dewey nodded seriously, though the slight downturn of his mouth hinted otherwise.

“Oh, lad. You should’ve seen the map in the study. If we fly to Peru today, we’ll stumble upon the entrance to the temple effortlessly.”

“When you say treasury?” Louie baited with a smirk. Webby let out a ‘woohoo!’ in the background, yelling, “Secret Inca temple!”

“Wait! Guys–we promised Uncle Donald no adventuring every Sunday,” Huey reminded full-stop, which prompted a series of groans.

“The new CEO of the company was a mystery until three months ago when new information emerged from a one-on-one interview with veteran journalist Ms. Layla Lay. Although the interview answered the common question, questions about his relation to the owner, Everette Duckliar, remained unknown.”

“That’s boring! No offense to Uncle Donald but adventuring is in our blood,” Dewey relayed dramatically.

Della sighed, deciding to stop the brothers from escalating the situation. After all, she owed his brother some peace, even if she wanted to explore just as badly. “Dewey, we did promise your uncle to rest for one day every week. He’s not stopping us from adventuring, and if any of our trips somehow extend until Sunday, no one’s preventing us.”

“I’m sure Uncle Scrooge agreed to this, right, Uncle?” Scrooge scowled in irritation choosing to watch the TV rather than answer his niece.

Scrooge was about to make a sharp remark when he saw the car pulling up on the screen, he focused his attention to observe the unknown head of the company. The upstart has been requesting to meet up with him to consolidate Everette’s investments and liquidated properties under McDuck Enterprises. Scrooge was pleasantly surprised when he reviewed the proposal. He usually let Bradford handle anything remotely business-related, but he couldn't hand off this responsibility, knowing he was dealing with a Duckliar. Though they didn't meet face to face and only made a video conference, once, he knew not to underestimate the younger duck.

“Is that Uncle Donald?” Dewey wondered, it was hard to recognize him without his usual white hat and black sailor outfit.

“Hmm, yeah,” Louie said distractedly, frowning at his phone. “He said he was hired as a driver for a billionaire. I thought it was Uncle Scrooge since the rest were enemies of Uncle Scrooge. It’s an easy mistake to make.”

“Good for him,” Della smiled in fondness. “I… should probably find a job, too.”

“Mom, it’s fine. You just came back from the moon. There’s no need to rush things.”

Della gave a quick smile to Huey, going back to the TV where she saw her brother opening the back seat of the car. A woman with long blond hair, pinned in multiple buns, was the first to step out. She mouthed a quick thank you to him before gathering the security detail. Next to her stepped a man towering over the woman and his brother. He has strawberry blond hair with thick sideburns with a face that means business. He gave a sharp nod to his brother who solemnly nodded back. There was a moment's pause between them, a silent conversation amid chaos before his brother jumped back into the driver's seat and drove off.

It was a bizarre exchange, however, it wasn't notable enough to be remembered. She felt Penumbra nudging her sides, raising an eyebrow, and looked pointedly at the screen.

Della clapped her hands twice and then abruptly announced, “Come on, let’s start the movie! Even if Donald's not here, we need to keep our promise. Capiche?”

“Dibs on ‘Eternal Moonlight’.”

“What? That’s–no. Really, Huey?”

“It fits the theme! I researched the best moon-themed movie we could watch. It is also the highest-rated movie this season. At least I try to be accommodating, Louie. Unlike some people.”

Louie sputtered indignantly, “On what earth do you think Penu–”

Dewey cut him off rudely, “What about ‘Darkwing Duck the Movie? It was released recently.” Louie growled at the interruption.

“Dewey, you already chose the movie last week. It’s not fair if you pick the movie again.” Dewey sent a scathing glare to his red-clad brother before ranting how ‘uninteresting’ his suggestions were. Louie, momentarily distracted, nodded in agreement and declared that he should pick the movie, which was quickly denied by both older brothers. If Huey’s recommendation was dull, Louie’s was downright atrocious.

Unnoticed by the bickering brothers except for the adults, Webby crawled out of her sibling-sandwich, snatched the remote to change the channel to one of the available streaming services, and typed in ‘The Betelgeuse War’.

Della smirked in astonishment and shared a look with Penumbra, who was instantly enamored by the screen.

“Webby!” the triplets collectively shout.

“What? It’s informative, it’s not boring, and the character has depth. It has three sequels, all amazing–as impossible as it is–and it is about space. And the moon. Penumbra will love it and we will geek over the characters. Now, shove off!”

“Atta, lassie,” Scrooge chuckled.

The lights slowly dimmed. Della glanced back by the door and saw Mrs. Beakly adjusting the light switch. She grinned in thanks before settling on the couch. It has been years since she last watched ‘The Betelgeuse War’. If Webby was right, then she’ll enjoy the rest of the series and her honorary niece will certainly be asked to join the exclusive club of the Betelgeuse she founded with his brother.

Penumbra was, always, a nice addition.

————————————————————————

Something was bubbling under the surface.

“Hey, Gandra, grabbing lunch?” Granda put down her soldering iron and removed her goggles. She looked toward the door where Dr. Dendron was standing.

“Is it noon already?” Gandra grabbed her phone from the pedestal and grinned as a series of messages popped up on her notification. She was about to open one when she caught the time. “Woah, time sure flies by.”

“Yeah, I don’t want to disturb you with your work. I am also absorbed in mine, which is almost complete. I thought that we could eat lunch in the pantry,” Dr. Dendron smiled hopefully.

Gandra blinked, pleasantly surprised by the invitation. She gave a jerky nod and said, “Sure, I haven't had my breakfast… or lunch, for that matter.”

“Same here,” Dr. Dendron’s frame relaxed considerably. “Work just sucked you in. Next thing you know, it’s dark out, and you’re only halfway through your task.”

Gandra hummed as she gathered her equipment, placing all the dangerous items in their proper places. She secured the cabinets of confidential experiments before leaving her lab.

As she approached the door, she could hear sections of the lab shutting down. Once she reached the threshold, she pressed her biometrics, and the door closed firmly.

“I still think it’s quite excessive,” Dr. Dendron noted.

“I think it's nice,” Gandra smirked as they walked down the corridor to the department lobby. “None of the other labs I’ve been to is as secure as this one. You would think they’re hiding something sinister.”

Dr. Dendron giggled. “It certainly looks like that. It’s confidential, yes, but anything we do in R&D can be discussed between us, scientists and researchers.”

Gandra challenged. “Such as?”

“I can imagine all of our works are going to converge at one point,” Dr. Dendron explained. “I am working with an Evronian spore and Dr. Einmug is polishing his research on atoms. Sparky is working with Dr. Zibaldo on enhancing security and creating technologies related to clean energy.”

“What the hell is an Evronian spore? And isn’t Dr. Einmug a recluse? How did they manage to convince him to work here?” Gandra asked incredulously. “Dr. Zibaldo’s nice, just a bit overzealous. Sparky…it’s strange having a rat as your co-worker. No offense.”

“Rodents of his species developing intelligence and cognitive abilities are quite rare,” Dr. Dendron grimaced. “Achieving such a feat…”

“It’s not pleasant,” Gandra’s eyes widened as a memory resurfaced, and felt her conscience pang between her gritted teeth.

Dr. Dendron bobbed her head in agreement. “We can continue with the questions after lunch,” she said, tapping her badge.

Gandra willed herself to calm down as she followed Dr. Dendron into the busy hallway. “So I can ask anything under the sun about our work but only within the R&D?”

“Now you're getting it,” Dr. Dendron smiled playfully.

Gandra and Dr. Dendron strolled in comfortable silence as they made their way through the throng of employees getting a quick lunch. When they arrived at the pantry, Gandra told her fellow scientists to line up at the buffet.

“I need to warm up my lunch.”

“Do you want me to get you something?” Dr. Dendron asked, picking up a tray.

“A plate of waffles, if you can, please” and then Gandra waved her hand in appreciation, marching to the refrigerator where she stored her homemade lunch. When she opened the fridge, she saw the note sticking out of her lunchbox, which she had forgotten to remove (and put on a special case with similar notes). Written messily on it was, ‘Go get them, Gadget Girl’.

She couldn't help but grin warmly. She fumbled in her pocket for her phone and sent a short message to ‘Suit’ with a picture of her blue lunchbox.

‘Suit’ replied quickly, ‘I made your favorite, empanadas and guacamole :).’

(Oh, he’s so nice.)

After heating the empanadas, she made her way to the tables when her eyes fell upon an unexpected figure. She knew some sparing information about him. Most striking was that he was the triplet’s uncle and Mr. Scrooge’s nephew.

“Oh, Donald’s here,” Dr. Dendron spoke behind her. “I wonder why –” then her eyes followed where Mr. Duck was staring, “– I see. I forgot the press conference is today.”

Gandra caught the TV and she could see Mr. Hecks sitting on a long table under an onslaught of questions.

“–the company's focus has shifted from weapons manufacturing and engineering to clean energy. How will you ensure the company's financial stability during this period of change?”

“That is an excellent question, Ms. Roxanne. Duckliar Enterprise isn’t always reliant on weapons production. While it has been the previous CEO’s primary focus, being an inventor himself, he understood it is not the sole path for the company’s long-term success.”

Gandra felt a crippling chill running down her spine, and a sudden heaviness clung onto her shoulders. There was a gaze observing her in hindsight. Her eyes returned to where Donald was sitting and felt a surge of trepidation. The consensus is that Donald Duck of the McDuck clan was the polar opposite of his adventurous uncle, Scrooge McDuck. He was averse to adventure and quick to anger, but a great uncle to his nephew, according to some sources–okay, mostly from Huey.

Donald’s eyes flickered like a blade, slowly dissecting each layer of her carefully crafted facade. Leaving her exposed and flayed, like a wound itching to be closed. With a blink, he shifted from a terrifying force to a deceptively weary man.

“You know each other?” Gandra asked Dr. Dendron instead of keeping on staring at Donald.

“You don't?” Dr. Dendron asked, taken aback, though Gandra could hear concern lacing her tone. “We can use another table if you want?”

“No need, I'm curious to know what his deal is.”

“Good to know that you have a sense of humor Mr. Hecks. Unlike your predecessor who again disappeared years ago after a bit of a scandal. Whatever happened to Mr. Duckliar? Any idea of his whereabouts?”

“Thank you for asking, I understand that you are curious and concerned about Mr. Everett. I am placed in confidence to steer the wheel of the Enterprise and Mr. Everett has always valued his privacy which I will be obliged to continue.”

“That doesn't answer my question–”

“Hey, Mr. Duck,” Gandra plopped on one of the fluffy seats a distance away from Donald. Dr. Dendron hesitated for a second before sitting beside Gandra. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Same to you,” Donald raised his eyebrow, then looked at Dr. Dendron with a faint smile. “Hey, Dr. Rhonda. Good to see you, how have you been? Did you manage to find an apartment downtown?”

“Good! About the apartment… I decided to stay in St. Canard. I still like my city, despite the traffic. Also, thank you for shipping the Drosera occidendum’s seed.”

“I have no idea what you need from that plant but–er–you’re welcome?”

“No need to be bashful, it was a rare specimen. Knowing that your family managed to defeat it was amazing.”

Donald beamed like a mini sun, “It’s the kids who figured out that blasted plant.”

“Not surprising,” Gandra nodded, taking a bite of her empanada. “They’re very…inquisitive. Alarmingly so.”

“Oh, you’re just bitter that they foiled your spy career.” Donald's lips curled in amusement, although his eyes held a sharp edge.

“Speaking from experience?” Dr. Dendron, Caesar salad bunched on her fork, piqued in interest.

“Corporate espionage,” they both said at the same time.

“You were selected to work on nanobots?” Donald spoke out of the blue, startling both Gandra and Dr. Dendron. However, Gandra could tell that the other scientist was surprised for a different reason.

“NDA, Mr. Duck. My lips are sealed”

“Just call me Donald,” Donald rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Mr. Duck was my father. If you take my sister’s sons into account, that’s too many Mr. Ducks around.”

“What a nightmare it’ll be,” Gandra deadpanned, piercing the waffles.

“So nanobots… that's your forte, right?” Donald pushed on. “I remembered Huey telling a story about a ‘highly musculature Mark Beaks’ and how you helped win against him. No, I don’t want to imagine ‘Macho Beaks’. Yes, Huey shared his findings about nanobots enthusiastically and without reservation.”

‘I know who you are and what you did,’ was left unsaid.

When Donald spoke, Gandra could hear the resignation in his next statement. “I think you’ll do great with the project.”

“How did you know about it?” Gandra was eager to know because this guy was an enigma wrapped in a cipher. He was not supposed to be here, he was not on her radar of potentially dangerous people but goddamn, anyone who knew about her work with Mr. Hecks was.

“Here I thought that any scientific discussion can only be discussed by fellows and should be discussed inside R&D,” she said, voice drilling in sarcasm.

Donald shook his head, offering no explanation, eyes turning to watch the last thread of the conference. As Mr. Hecks plastered a polite smile, waving goodbye to the press, Donald’s phone rang.

“Hey, Belinda. Yeah, I’ll be there.” He paused. “Will do, thanks. Yeah. Bye.”

“Sorry, I need to go,” Donald, with a sigh, pulled up from the chair. “See you later, enjoy your lunch, Dr. Rhonda, Gandra.” He made his way out of the pantry, not without grabbing a freshly made waffle bag in a take-out bag from the pastry station.

“You know something,” Gandra faced Dr. Dendron in the eye.

“No, not really,” uncertainty seeping on her body. “I am as blind as you are.”

“Why have lunch with me?”

“Is it hard to believe I wanted to know you, or maybe become your friend?” Dr. Dendron's lips turned into a sad frown. “What you’re hiding is not my business but if it, in some ways, affects our work and reputation…” she trailed off, the unspoken implication hanging between them.

Gandra chuckled at the implied threat, “I didn’t think you had it in you, Dr. Dendron.”

Dr. Dendron relaxed and joined her laughter and said, “Oh, please, call me Rhonda.”

————————————————————————

Something was bubbling under the surface. Like lava slowly spilling at the edge of the crater.

“Hey, Layla,” said a duck holding an HDTV camera in one hand and balancing a tray of three coffees in the other. Layla readily helped get the tray out of the older duck’s hand.

“Alright, here’s your frap,” Layla chirped. “And a latte for me.”

The duck glanced at the remaining coffee, a plain black one, placed at the back of the van. “Donald’s will be here?”

“Yep,” Layla replied, popping the ‘p’, and taking a sip of her coffee. “He is Mr. Hecks’ driver.”

The duck hummed, “You’re suspicious about Mr. Hecks. Is he involved with… him?”

Layla took a moment to answer, “You can say. It’s complicated, Donald was more reserved about sharing information, after the moon.”

They dwelled in comfortable silence, finishing their drinks. Layla bit the bottom of her lips and asked, “Stefan, was I a bad friend?”

“I cannot give you a response to that,” Stefan said, slurping his frap.

“Why, weren't we friends in past years?” Layla quirked her eyebrow.

Stefan countered, “Were you?” He set the camera next to the coffee and sat beside it. “Your heart has always been in the right place. It took me a long time to understand that. Donald, we’re not friends, but I always felt a kinship with him due to our… affliction.”

Layla blinked in silence. It was rare for Stefan to speak this long. He continued, “I chanced upon him, months after he lost his sister to the moon. I was investigating the peculiarities of the Duckliar family. We did not talk; the situation was too heavy. And I suspect he lost more than just his sister that day.”

“I – Donald’s been keeping this?”

“It’s not my business, but I thought it might help you.”

“You’re right,” Layla took a deep breath. “I was not there when he needed me. I was so excited; I’ve always wanted to experience the world without restraint. In the process, I left the person who helped me achieve that.”

“Talk to him, once you both have the time,” Stefan stiffly patted Layla’s shoulder, taking the empty paper cup to the nearest trash can. “Come on, they should be here anytime soon.”

Layla exhaled and gathered all her materials ensuring her makeup was all good. She grabbed her coffee; taking one long sip, before closing the van door, pacing beside Stefan.

“Hey, Stefan?” Layla softly called out. “Thank you. And don’t ever doubt that you're my friend.” Stefan's eyes widened, revealing a timid smile.

They secured a good spot in the park where they had a clear shot of the podium. As soon as they saw a glimpse of Hecks’ car, Stefan started rolling the camera.

With a smile, Layla started with, “Channel ‘00, live in Duckliar Park…”

————————————————————————

Something was bubbling under the surface. Like lava slowly spilling over the edge of the crater. It rumbled hotter than the core of any mass in the universe.

Mary Ann Flagstarr was tired. She was running on six cups of coffee, a box of donuts, and a bowl of Garden salad because she wanted something healthy, alright? It wasn't even past three in the afternoon, and she was already flagging under the weight of paperwork and the lingering effect of a jailbreak. And that was many months ago.

If she had known that her first task as a captain of PBI would be tidying up the joint jailbreak of Dr. Fairfax and former Lieutenant McCoy, she wouldn't have taken the position. She’d probably be sleeping in a moldy hotel under a disguise but, at least, she wasn't slaving away to finish this administrative burden and locating escaped criminals in every part of the globe.

Mary Ann rubbed her forehead in frustration. She received help from personnel from Area 51, but despite their combined efforts, they couldn't find where Fairfax and McCoy were hiding. During her first month in her position, she instinctively dialed the Duck Avengers’ number only to remember that no one had seen the hero in decades.

Usually, his AI partner, Uno, would send her an email or fax with crucial information on any issue that may threaten the country before she could bang her head on her desk. It was convenient and very helpful; they’d saved her multiple times. She was grateful, yet a brush of jealous resentment lurked in the periphery of her mind.

The captain sighed sharply. It was all in the past. She would prefer to handle the situation under her own leadership. However, Dr. Fairfax was a dangerous individual, with a spy like McCoy, the danger they posed would affect not just Duckburg and its surrounding area but also target other countries.

She thought of enlisting help from superheroes, like Gizmoduck, or spies from S.H.U.S.H., or the Agency. She dismissed asking for Gizmoduck; he was too green when it came to international conflict. She had reached out to S.H.U.S.H., but they were indisposed without Ludwig. The Agency…their reputation had tanked when Double Duck resigned.

Her last option was to contact the Duck siblings. She did not want to consider it since their family was one of the reasons for her headaches, especially after the Moonlander invasion or the magical disruption two years ago. Therefore, when Mary Ann said they were the last option, it meant she wouldn't contact them under any circumstances unless she was really in-depth.

She needed to contact them, ASAP.

Fairfax and McCoy had been missing for one year and six months. No leads, no clues, no witnesses that may point her in their direction. Mary Ann was uncertain if they were even together. She had a terrible feeling in her guts that their plans would soon implode and everything they swore revenge on would go down badly.

She tried contacting the mansion, but the lines weren't connecting. She found out the telephone lines were blocked due to magical interference. It was a good thing they had a magical expert in the department, and they created a workaround.

But when she called the number and someone answered the phone, the housekeeper (certainly not an ordinary housekeeper) would inform her that the family was off on an adventure.

Then she sent emails to McDuck Enterprise because their digital security system was such a hardass PBI couldn’t retrieve any personal emails, but no reply. Della didn’t have any digital presence since she had just returned from the moon (how crazy was that?). Donald's contact information was easily found in various resumes; curiously, all numbers and emails became disconnected after he left his previous employers.

The captain had tried every avenue but received no luck until today.

Mary Ann paced anxiously in her office, the telephone line ringing once, twice, thrice. She stopped when it continued to ring for the fourth time, head on her hands, and took a deep steady breath.

“Deeeewey express! How can I help you with this fine evening?”

(Oh shit.)

“Good afternoon, my name is Mary Ann Flagstare, captain of PBI. I would like to speak to Dumbella Duck for urgent business.”

“Mom knows someone from the Secret Service?” Mary Ann bit back a groan, she had caught the kid’s wonder over the phone, it was like talking to Ziggy in his teens. Oh right, this kid is a teen. What a joy.

“It appears so. If you could pass the phone to her, I would appreciate it.”

“Why do you need Mom? Ohhh, are you going to send her on a mission? That’s awesome, but we are on a strict no-adventure Sunday, you can call tomorrow, and we can hash out the mission without any issues.” Dewey informed cheerfully, she could register the tell-tale sign of dismissal.

She hurried over to the phone, almost knocking herself on the lamp next to her table, and cried out, “Wait! I am not sending her on any mission. If you can tell her that–” She didn’t want to share the news with an unauthorized person, worst of all, a kid. Desperate times called for desperate measures. “–Dr. Fairfax and McCoy were on the loose, it’s a matter of national emergency. She can contact me through this number, preferably soon.”

“Sure,” Dewey stretched, “I’ll pass it on.”

Mary Ann sighed in relief, “Thank you.”

“Dewey, come on. The third movie is starting!”

“Webby, pause it!” Dewey shouted, muffled. “I have to go, Ms. Captain. Bye!”

The click of the disconnected call echoed in her office, pulsing in her head, syncing with her oncoming migraine. She braced her arms on her large desk; paperwork stewed like a hurricane went past. She can wait, hopefully, before the insanity stirs.

Mary Ann waited and completed her paperwork. Waited, and took a very quick break. Waited and visited a department in crisis which provided a mental breather from all the waiting. Waited until it was almost midnight and resigned herself to another failure.

She was tidying her desk of today’s paperwork and preparing the ones she needed to complete tomorrow when the phone rang.

She shot up like a bullet and swiftly put the receiver to her ear. She could scarcely believe it was Della’s voice on the phone.

“You, speak now.”

————————————————————————

Something was bubbling under the surface. Like lava slowly spilling over the edge of the crater. It rumbled hotter than the core of any mass in the universe. How it melts off the feathers and skin, burning everything inside out.

That is how Donald met his demise, ripped from the Earth’s atmosphere after his ill-fated venture on the moon.

He has, after all, been afflicted with terrible, horrible luck.