Danger Lurks Behind, W/ Strangers Out To Find Ya!

Prologue!

*Ring*

*Ring!*

*RING!*

*RING!!*

Dewey ducked between bodies and jumped over the chairs in the dining hall. Beakley had thrown together some snacks and sat them on the table. The guest had flocked to the food. This made finding his brother rather difficult in the crowd. He spotted the green hoodie boy propped up in a chair off to the side of the room, talking to rather excited Webby.

"Louie! Your phone's ringing." Dewey ran up and handed him his phone. He had dropped it in the battle.

"Oh, you found it! I'll never leave you again baby!" He stared at the screen that was now busted trying to make out who was calling him. "Hey, Goldie. Glad to see you survived the invasion."

"Kid! Is ____ there? It's important!" He had never heard such urgency in the con-woman's voice. He jumped up.

"I think she's outside talking to mom. Let me check." He made his way outside. "Aunt _____? Goldie says she needs to speak too. UNCLE SCROOGE!!!"

"Sharpie?" Goldie heard the phone hit the ground, and the feed cut out. She stared at the thing in her hand. She tried the woman's phone again.

(Ugh! How was she going to ask for a favor and then ignore my phone calls?!)

She plopped in Scrooge's chair. The room was still destroyed from the invasion gathering ____ had warned her to stay away from. Something about Flintheart showing his beak, and anywhere Glomgold was, Goldie wasn't. Being in Scrooge's office now was risky, but at least she knew it would be empty for a while.

Despite the mess and the years, it still looked the same as the last she was in there. At least Scrooge was consist. The only difference was signature charred markers in the fireplace where someone had burned something other than wood. Goldie would know. She had thrown enough letters and photos into the flames over the years. Though it wasn't the stains that interested her, well, maybe initially. Leave it to that old bird to burn the smoking gun she needed to help his ass.

However, she had been more interested the glittering bit of metal in the bottom where something more recent had been burned or cover up. She had bent down and picked up the fire stocker. She wasn't opposed to getting dirty, just like to avoid it if possible. Now she was left staring at a broken pocket watch. Not just any pocket watch, ______'s pocket watch.

That was a message if she had ever seen one.

"Oh Scroogy, who have you pissed off this time?"

Word Count: 435