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An Attempted Murder Mystery!

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Louie trudged heavily down the final set of steps that would lead him to the underwater lab. The duckling groaned, leaning against the railing for a bit to rest and grimacing when he realized that he’d have to walk up the same stairs in just a matter of seconds, which was even worse than going down! If only he’d been sensible enough not to leave his dart gun with Gyro, of all people, in the first place.

He hadn’t been paying attention when the inventor approached him and his brothers a few days ago, asking to borrow one of their dart guns, so he could make some kind of safer alternative to an invention he was working on. Louie thought he remembered hearing him say something about needing softer amo that wouldn’t shoot directly through someone’s arm and maybe something about Launchpad? Come to think of it, maybe that was why the pilot’s arm was in a cast that day.

At the time, Louie didn’t really think much about what he was doing when he let Gyro borrow his dart gun. Honestly, it was more of a way to get the guy off his back since his brothers and Webby had declined. He didn’t feel like entering a conversation with the mad scientist, since most of them lasted longer than he cared for and consisted primarily of words he didn’t understand. He was also close to beating his high score on Breadcrumb Run then and pretty absorbed in his phone. Instead of listening to Gyro’s speech, Louie had simply just told him to take the gun and leave him alone.

Which he had. The day before him, his brothers and Webby were planning on having a dart gun war in the garden they’d been planning for days. Curse his forgetfulness.

Finally catching his breath, Louie peered into the window on the stairwell’s door, trying hard not to make a sound. As mentioned before, Gyro’s conversations with him tended to be on the long-winded and uninteresting side, so he didn’t plan to actually ask for his dart gun back. He wasn’t even sure if the scientist would be done with it. The duckling had decided to go with a route that leaned closer to “steal the gun right off Gyro’s desk when he wasn’t looking and maybe return it after the competition if he felt like it.” It was why he’d taken the stairs and not the elevator. That would have without a doubt drawn attention to him.

He made out the shape of Manny the headless man-horse sitting at a bale of hay shoved in the corner, typing away at a laptop which confused Louie since he wasn’t sure how you could do that with hooves. Other than him, the lab appeared to be completely barren. A smirk formed on the duckling’s face as he opened the door as quietly as possible and instantly hid behind a cardboard cutout of Gyro Gearloose himself albeit with a rather goofy expression. As expected, Manny looked up for a fraction of a second, moved the statue that functioned as his head around, shrugged his shoulders and go back to work.

Louie began to sneak through the lab, hiding behind various objects when possible just in case Manny did happen to catch him. He kept his eyes peeled for the dart gun and mentally sighed in relief when he caught sight of it, sitting out in the open on Gyro’s desk which he was already pretty close to. This would be a piece of cake!

Or so he thought until he heard footsteps approaching and made a quick, panicked dive underneath the desk out of impulse, cowering there.

Louie had a limited view, but he did make out the rather large brown shoes of Gyro. He crouched further back, crossing his fingers that he wouldn’t get caught as he saw the feet approach him. Luckily, all the inventor did was pick something up off his desk and walk away once more. The duckling was going to pop out and make a grab for the gun when a voice stopped him from doing so.

“Alright, Manny,” Gyro spoke. “I’m turning in early today. I have to get ready for….you know.” Even though he couldn’t see him, Louie practically heard the man wink.

Then, there was a series of tapping noises. Louie wasn’t practically well versed in morse code, so he couldn’t understand what Manny was trying to say.

“Oh, please!” the inventor scoffed. “What do you mean finally? You know I’ve been wanting to take him out for nearly a month! I just haven’t had a plan until now.”

Take him out? Louie immediately was suspicious at Gyro’s oddly grim tone.

“Do you have that knife I asked you about?” the inventor continued, followed by more taps. “Mmhmm, yes, yes. That will do. That will do very nicely.”

A chill ran down Louie’s spine as he realized he was overhearing something very dark, and the sudden cheeriness in Gyro’s voice made the duckling certain he shouldn’t be in here right now, lest he be caught. He held his breath in nervous silence as he heard Gyro walk about.

“It’s been a long time coming. And every time I thought I was close...something in me held me back. Maybe sanity?” he tutted. “Or maybe I just didn’t have the guts to do it. Well...I’ve finally lost it.” Gyro’s voice suddenly got low. “I’ve had enough of just waiting around. Ha! I’m finally gonna take him out!”

Who though? WHO? Louie was trying not to scream in fear and curiosity.

Gyro laughed with oddly manic delight. “Fenton will never see what’s coming. It’s perfect.”

Louie felt his heart skip a beat twice, and he could feel his knees turning to jelly.

“Oh, and of course, I won’t tell anyone you were involved, Manny. I could never do that to you,” Gyro said with a weirdly fond affect to his voice. Louie heard him enter the elevator, and before the doors shut, the chicken said with the same weirdly dark tone. “After tonight, things are going to be different.

As soon as the elevator was gone, Louie bolted out from under the desk, holding back his horrified screaming until he was darting up the stairwell to go find his brothers.


In the meantime, Huey, Dewey and Webby were in the triplets’ room, loading their dart guns and waiting as patiently as they could for the fourth competitor to arrive.

“What do you think’s taking him so long?” asked Dewey, firing a dart at the wall. It ricocheted off and smacked Huey in the back of the head.

“Ow!” the duckling yelped, clutching where the dart hit and turning around to glare daggers at his brother. Dewey simply shrugged, putting the gun down.

“Maybe one of Dr. Gearloose’s inventions got after him?” Webby suggested, sitting on the floor with her legs criss-crossed.

“I hope not,” Huey said with a wince. “Or at least I hope he’s dealing with it himself if it did. The last time, he ran away screaming and led it straight to us! It was that awful hair-trimming robot.” He shuddered. “I think I’m still missing a few feathers under my hat.”

“He’s probably fine,” Dewey tried to reassure his brother, jumping down from his bunk bed to join the others. “I’m sure he’ll be back in no time, and that nothing’s gonna follow him!”

“Yeah!” Webby piped up. “.....Wait, do you hear something?”

The other two ducklings cocked their heads to the side, listening for whatever Webby was talking about. However, they could soon make out the telltale sound of their brother screaming bloody murder and quickly approaching their room.

“We should definitely hide,” Dewey squeaked, and him along with the other two desperately tried to form a plan when the door burst open.

“AHHHHHHHHH!” Louie yelled, shutting the door tightly behind him. “WE GOTTA DO SOMETHING!”

“What is it!?” Huey demanded to know.

“Should we hide?” Dewey followed up.

“No!” Louie gasped, trying to catch his breath. “I mean, well-”

“So you’re saying we should fight back to defend our honor!?” Webby gasped, almost cheerfully as she grabbed her dart gun. “I’ll go get my grappling hook, and we’ll-”

“No, no, no!” The duckling took one last long inhale before speaking again. “I wasn’t followed!”

The other three breathed a collective sigh of relief, and Webby lowered her weapon.

“Wait,” Huey piped up, “then what is it?”

“It’s just….well, it’s like….Gyro….he’s….uhhhh….he’s gonna….uhhhhh….”

“Go on?” Dewey urged.

Louie fumbled over more words as he tried hard to think of how to break the news to them. In the end, the shock of the situation hit hard, and a blunt reply spilled from his mouth.

“GYRO IS A MURDERER!”

“What?” Dewey looked at Louie, then at Huey and Webby, who all shared the same confused expression.

“Did he stop being a vegetarian?” Webby asked, not exactly sure of the context.

“Wh-no? I mean- I don’t know!” Louie spat. “But he’s totally lost it, and he’s gonna whack Fenton tonight! I heard him telling Manny!!”

“Are you sure?” Huey folded his arms, looking a bit skeptical. “You have jumped to conclusions about Dr. Gearloose before.”

“Oh since when?!” Louie glared.

Webby looked aside. “Well, you thought him wearing shoes and socks all the time meant he secretly has human feet-”

“WE DON’T KNOW THAT YET!” Louie cut in rather passionately.

“You did also think he was wiretapping our house to send signals to aliens.”

“First of all, that was Dewey, and second of all, it’s valid .”

“Look, I’m just saying, it’s kind of hard to believe that he would be a murderer. He’s a little nuts, but he’s not that depraved!” Webby insisted.

“Then how come he said,” Louie began to mimic Gyro as best he could, “‘ I’ve finally lost it! I’m going to take him out!

“That could mean anything,” Huey scoffed.

“He also had a knife.”

The other three paused.

“Okay, you are definitely making this up,” Dewey snorted. “If I go to the lab and talk to Dr. Gearloose right now, I can prove to you that he is not a murderer.”

“Fine! Your funeral” Louie sighed in frustration.

Dewey hurried down to the lab to catch Gyro before the chicken left for the day.

“Hey, Dr. Gearloose!” the duckling called as he saw him grabbing his personal affects.

“Yes, blue nephew?” Gyro turned around, looking much calmer than usual with a mysterious bright red fluid coating his hands.

Suddenly, Dewey felt a chill run up his spine, and his smile tightened. “I...I uh…”

“I’m really short on time, so if you could hurry up and ask your questions, I’d like to get going. I spent twenty minutes getting ready for tonight.” He smiled as he held up his red hands, wiggling his fingers.

When Dewey said nothing more, Gyro rolled his eyes with an annoyed breath and walked away.

Dewey returned to his family with a pale, drained expression.

“...Dewey?”

“....Louie’s right. Gyro’s snapped.”

“I told you!” Louie replied, while Huey and Webby looked on in terror and confusion.

“Oh my gosh,” Huey whimpered. “What are we gonna do!? We have to tell Uncle Scrooge, right?”

“But will he buy it with no evidence?” asked Dewey.

“I have plenty of evidence!” Louie retorted.

“Yeah, and you really think Uncle Scrooge is going to believe you?” Dewey asked, raising an eyebrow.

Louie opened his mouth to speak but slowly realized that his brother wasn’t entirely wrong and said nothing, simply crossing his arms and groaning.

“We could tell Fenton!” Huey said, sounding rather sure of himself. “I have his number.”

“Nice thinking!” Webby complimented him.

“Yeah-wait, why do you have Fenton’s number?” asked Dewey.

Huey smiled nervously and giggled. “O-Oh, y’know….I, uh….totally didn’t get it from Launchpad’s phone when he wasn’t looking! Ha! Why would I do that?”

The other ducklings stared at him, Louie raising an eyebrow in confusion.

“It’s for science stuff, okay!? You wouldn’t understand.” Rolling his eyes, Huey grabbed his phone off his nightstand and clicked on Fenton’s contact information, calling him. He waited as it rang several times before he heard the voice on the other end.

“Hello! This is Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera!”

“Hey, Fenton!” Huey exclaimed. “Okay, so, it’s Huey. Don’t ask how I got your number, but I have something to tell-”

“Unfortunately, I’m unable to come to the phone right now. Just leave a message after the tone, and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible!”

The duckling’s beak dropped into a frown as he heard the following beep, and he sighed, hanging up his phone.

“Dude, why’d you hang up!?” Dewey asked. “You could’ve left him a message!”

“And what am I supposed to say?” Huey continued to speak in a mocking tone. “Hey, Fenton, sorry to bother you, but Gyro’s going to murder you in cold blood tonight! Call back when you can, okay?”

“......Yeah?”

“Maybe he just couldn’t make it to the phone that time,” Webby added. “Try calling again!”

“Okay.” Huey dialed the number again. Voicemail. So he tried again. Voicemail once more. Again. Voicemail. Again. Voicemail. The trend continued for a few more minutes before Louie spoke.

“We should probably stop calling him now.”

“No! We have to keep trying!” Huey shot back. “I’ll leave a voicemail this time.”

“If he hasn’t picked up his phone for over thirty missed calls, I doubt he’s going to do it for one voicemail,” Dewey said.

“Fine,” Huey grumbled, putting his phone down and groaning. “But we can’t just let him kill someone, especially Fenton!”

“Well, what else are we supposed to do?” Louie spat. “Stop him ourselves?”

There was a moment of silence, and the four ducklings exchanged glances, obviously thinking the same thing.

“I mean….I’ve always wanted to go on a stakeout,” Webby finally piped up, her beak curling into an eager smile.


The four had to go to Launchpad in order to get a ride to Gyro’s apartment, but they had to be sneaky. Telling Launchpad about their suspicions would only blow their cover.

“Wow, it sure is nice of you four to be going to Gyro’s place to surprise him by cleaning it. I’m sure he’ll really appreciate it!” the ever-cheery duck spoke up from the driver’s seat.

“Hahaha, yup!” Huey smiled nervously. With all he’s done, he deserves it!”

“I guess I still don’t understand why I can’t stay to help...or why Webby needs night vision goggles to clean,” Launchpad admitted, looking into the rearview mirror at the girl who was completely decked out in spy gear.

“Deep cleaning,” she answered with a thumbs up.

“And besides, Launchpad, there’s four of us back here who can do all the cleaning. Five of us would just be too much,” Dewey explained. “Too many cooks spoil the broth!”

“I can’t argue with that logic!” Launchpad smiled. “Be sure to let me know if Dr. G likes the surprise!”

They all watched as the limo drove away and then looked at each other, nodding in determination. Fenton’s life was on the line tonight, and if they weren’t careful in dealing with a madman, theirs might be as well.

Having snagged Gyro’s apartment number from the roster in the foyer of the building, Webby, Dewey and Louie headed for the fire escape that led up to Gyro’s apartment window, and Huey went for the apartment door. Taking a deep breath and trying to think of what to say, he knocked and tried to look as calm and rational as he could. However, Gyro answering the door with a white apron and a knife both spattered messily with red definitely made him want to turn tail and run. But his tiny legs froze as the alleged murderer looked down at him with a confused look.

“What are you doing here?” Gyro asked, sounding mildly annoyed and glancing aside at whatever had his attention earlier.

“O-Oh!” Huey grinned nervously, trying to keep from tripping over his tongue and ignore the idea of a crime scene being inside the apartment. “Dr. Gearloose! I had no idea you lived here ! W-Well, as you know, I am a Junior Woodchuck, and every year, we are given several opportunities to see the world and expose ourselves to nature and culture and knowledge-”

“Are you asking me for money?” Gyro asked flatly, not looking too amused.

“I’m getting to that!” Huey held his hand up. “Anyway, the fresh air-”

While Gyro was stuck listening to Huey’s ramble at the front door, his back was turned from the window. The three other ducklings had managed to climb up the fire escape to reach it, and Webby was working with her spy gear to try and open it from the outside ever so carefully.

“You sure you know how to do this?” Dewey whispered to Webby as she adjusted the tools in her hand.

“Of course! It requires precision and a focused concentration and-aww, look! Dr. Gearloose has a kitty!” She gasped in adoration at the animal lounging in the window.

“Focus, Webby!” Louie whispered and mouthed angrily at the cat to shoo. The animal did no such thing, instead rolling over onto its side to stretch and expose its belly to the kids.

Webby made a coo of adoration at the cat before getting back to work in trying to open the window.

“-the crisp mountains, the bubbling seas, the vast tundras-” Huey was still listing off, trying to stretch his pitch as long as he could.

“If I give you my money will you go away?” Gyro asked snottily.

“Oooh that's a very good question...leeeet meeee thiiiiink abouuuut thaaaaat,” Huey slurred as much as he could, discreetly glancing behind Gyro to make sure the other three were managing to open the window. “Uuuuhhhhm….yesssssssss?”

Rolling his eyes, Gyro muttered, “I swear you kids and your scouting programs. Those Goose Scouts came by selling cookies months ago, and I still haven't gotten my boxes of Slim Mints.” He patted his pocket and sighed. “Ah. Left my wallet on the kitchen counter-”

Huey panicked as he saw Gyro about to turn in direction of the window and yelped, “D-Dr. Gearloose!”

Gyro stopped in place to look at him irritably. “Yes?”

“Weren’t you once a Junior Woodchuck? I swear I’ve heard through the grapevine that you were. I’m surprised you never have mentioned it. Weren’t you proud to be part of such an amazing society?”

The chicken froze a moment then immediately crouched down with a grim look as he whispered to Huey. “Kid, do you know what a cult is?”

As Gyro gave Huey the darker facts of the world they lived in, Webby had managed to open the window to the tiniest crack and quickly was trying to crawl in. However, even with all her training and all her spy gear, the actual spying skills had left to be desired. And so did the size of the window opening.

“Guys,” Webby whimpered as softly as she could, “I’m stuck! Open the window a little more.”

“And have a crazy man notice us breaking in?!” Louie whispered harshly. “Just squeeze through!”

“Just open it a crack!” she hissed back. “I can’t fit through it like this and-oh no!” She gasped as her face was met with fluffy fur and purring. “Kitty, not now,” she whispered to the cat that was being deviously friendly and rubbing up to her as she was stuck in the window.

Dewey and Louie looked at each other, and then tried to shove Webby further into the window gap, only for her to get stuck even more.

“Guuuys!” she whined again. “Open the stupid window!”

“Ugh fine!” Louie hissed and ever so carefully opened the window wider. Webby immediately fell onto the floor of Gyro’s apartment, startling the cat into bolting from where it was perched. It rushed past Gyro, out the front door and into the hallway.

Tungsten , you little-!” Gyro held back a swear as his cat ran out of his apartment and forgetting about Huey, stomped off down the hall to chase after the animal. Taking this opportunity, Huey stepped inside the apartment and rushed over to the window to help his siblings inside.

“Wow, you look really pale,” Webby observed. “Are you okay?”

“I-I’m fine...I just don’t want to drink Swag-Aid ever again,” he nervously laughed. “And uh...Dr. Gearloose definitely was wearing a bloody apron.”

“Really?!” Webby yelped.

“Less gawking, more hiding for stakeouts!” Louie was getting more nervous by the second. “Quick! Into the closet!”


 

When Gyro returned half a minute later, he unceremoniously dumped his cat on his sofa and looked in the hallway again for Huey. Seeing no sign of him anywhere, Gyro gave a half-hearted hum, closed the door and went back to the kitchen area to work.

The triplets and Webby had taken refuge in a small closet near the inventor’s bedroom area, huddling close together and trying to make out what they could through the sliver of light underneath the door.

“What’s going on?” Louie whispered.

“I don’t know,” Dewey added. “He’s in the kitchen. I can hear him humming.”

“I think I can see his feet-” Huey started, but Webby cut him off with a shush and a gentle slap on the back. “Hey!”

“Do you want to be caught and thrown into a stew?” she hissed. “Don’t say a word!”

“Wait, he’s going to eat Fenton too!?” Dewey gasped.

Webby rolled her eyes and ignored him, knowing that was probably the best way to keep the boys quiet.

Outside, they could hear the inventor’s idle humming, as well as the clinking and clanging of metal. Then, they heard a loud thud, as if he was placing something on top of the counter. They were all practically lying down on their stomachs now, desperately trying to get a hint of what he had.

Gyro began to grunt, sounding as if he was struggling with something. He would stop to take deep breaths every once and a while, then go back to straining. Finally, there was a thud, and he gave a loud groan.

“Fuck it,” he grumbled, followed by the sound of him fishing around in one of his drawers.

“Oh my gosh, he said the F word!” Huey fretted in a whisper. “He really has gone off the deep end!”

“Dude, you’ve seriously never heard Gyro swear before?” Louie asked, raising an eyebrow.

“He used to teach me swear words,” Webby piped up. “But still, we should probably be quiet!”

“What do you think he’s looking for?” Dewey asked, ignoring Webby’s pleas.

“Maybe he’s trying to find an even sharper knife to use,” Louie said, gulping.

“Or maybe he’s just...looking for one of his cat’s toys?” Webby suggested.

Louie was about to reply, but Gyro’s suddenly cheery voice cut him off. “Aha! This knife is much sharper than that old thing. I can use this to my ability quite well!”

The ducklings’ eyes grew wide in horror at his comment, and Louie gestured as if to say he told them so. Gyro went back to making the grunting noises while hacking the knife into something. While they were trying to see just what the madman was doing, the sudden sound of the door slamming open gave them a shock.

“Howdy, Dr. G!” a familiar voice called. “I’m sorry to bother you, but-wait, what are you doing with that knife?”

Before any of the ducklings could process what they were hearing, Gyro’s loud and shrill scream startled them. It was preceded by a much deeper scream, the noise of an object colliding with something solid and finally, a loud thud that shook the entire apartment. Then, there was silence, and everything started to sink in.

“W-Was that….” Dewey piped up nervously, but his words trailed off when he noticed a thick, red liquid seeping into the closet from outside. He breathlessly stared ahead, Webby looked away, and Huey covered his mouth as if he was trying not to vomit.

“Oh my gosh, he killed Launchpad ,” Louie gasped under his breath, holding onto what felt like a nearby shoebox to keep himself from fainting.

Another sharp screech from Gyro caught their attention. “Oh no! Oh no, no, no, no, no!” They could hear frantic footsteps now, as if the chicken was running over to the body of their favorite pilot.

“This can’t be happening. This simply cannot be happening! Augh, what was he even doing here at this time!? I….oh god, I have to call Fenton.” They could hear the inventor dialing a number, the faint sound of a phone ringing on the other line, and then, Fenton’s voice.

“Hey, Fen! I just wanted to tell you that-oh, are you kidding me!?” The frustrated groan and sound of the chicken’s phone thudding hard onto what sounded like his bed signalled to the ducklings that it had gone to voicemail. “Would it kill him to pick up his phone just once!? Stubborn little….”

They could hear him grumbling things, presumably about his main target of the night, under his breath as he walked to another side of the room. Then, the sound of Gyro grunting as he strained to drag a large mass, most definitely Launchpad’s corpse, was sharp in the kids’ ears. Every so often, there was a thud, as Gyro struggled to lift the body only for it to be too heavy and drop.

“Absolute oaf!” Gyro hissed under his breath. “I won’t let him or anyone else get in the way of my plans…”

The kids looked at each other nervously, hearing the grim determination in the madman’s voice. Fenton really was in trouble, and they were running out of time.

Soon, they heard the noise of Gyro shoving the corpse onto his bed and dusting off his hands with an exhausted breath. “Alright! Now to change out of these gruesome looking clothes before Fenton gets here.”

The ducklings froze in terror as they heard Gyro approach the closet. Game over!

But just as his hand reached the knob, they heard the apartment door swing open again.

“Hey, Gyro!”

“Fenton?!” The scientist’s voice was horrified and shrill. “You got here too early!”

The anger in Gyro’s voice was enough to send a chill down the children’s spines, and they huddled together in terror and anticipation at the doom that was awaiting Fenton.

“I-I’m sorry. I thought traffic would be bad, so I left twenty minutes before...wait, is that Launchpad?” the duck’s voice was confused. “And...what’s this mess on the floor?”

“Launchpad’s fine! I think. He just startled me. Long story,” Gyro groaned. “I can tell you over dinner.”

“O-Okay? What are we having?”

He’s going to probably have you! Louie almost screamed. The four ducklings were pressed against the closet door to hear everything as clearly as they could.

As Webby was about to lean against the door, she stroked a finger in the bright red puddle that had seeped under the crack. She didn’t smell the coppery tang of blood. In fact, it really smelled like...something different.

“Wait. Guys. This isn’t blood, this is-AAAUGH!”

On panicked impulse, Huey had cracked open the closet door, and all four of them fell foward, tumbling out onto the floor.

“WHAT IN THE-?!” Gyro screeched.

“FENTON, RUN! HE’S GOING TO KILL YOU!” Louie screamed at the top of his lungs.


There was a moment’s pause as everyone looked at one another. The triplets’ and Webby’s eyes darted around the room, making out their surroundings: a rather messy kitchen, a knife on the counter next to a few sliced tomatoes, a large can on the floor with a red goop similar to what they assumed was Launchpad’s blood leaking out of it and onto the floor, Launchpad lying unconscious on Gyro’s bed, Gyro looking as if he was about to pop a blood vessel and Fenton, standing near the doorway wearing a fancier tie than usual and….holding flowers?

Finally, Fenton broke the silence. “Hey, uhhh….can someone please tell me what’s going on here? I’m a little confused.”

“I don’t know, Fenton,” Gyro snapped, glaring at the ducklings. “I was right about to ask them the same thing!”

Louie was as quick as he possibly could be to jump into action. “We know everything, Gyro! Now drop the act, and fess up!”

“W-What!?” he gasped, almost stumbling backwards. “Who told you!?”

“I heard you say it yourself!” Louie accused him. “You said you were going to take Fenton out today in your lab!”

“Wha-wait, what were you doing in my lab-”

“And then I saw you earlier with blood all over your hands!” Dewey jumped in.

“And we all saw you murder Launchpad just now, you sick freak!” Huey added.

Unknown to everyone else in the room, Launchpad began to stir just in time to hear that comment and shot upward. “Wait, I’m dead?”

The triplets all collectively gasped in shock at what they saw as a reanimated corpse. Webby, who had just idly licked some of the “blood” off her finger, tugged at Louie’s shoulder to get his attention.

“Uh, guys, this isn’t-”

“Ugh, fine!” Gyro suddenly screamed, throwing his hands up in the air. “You got me, okay!? I didn’t want it to get out this soon and most certainly not because you hooligans decided to break into my apartment, but now you know!”

“So you admit it!” Louie gasped. “Webby, get your gear ready!”

“Louie, I don’t think-” Dewey tried to stop him, having clued into what Webby was trying to say, along with Huey.

“I might as well,” he sighed. “You know, you kids shouldn’t be meddling with my personal life like this! Fenton and I had made a collective decision not to let anyone know until we were at least two months-AHHH!”

The chicken was cut off when Louie lunged at him, managing to tackle him onto the floor. He tried to free himself from the duckling’s wrath, but the determined triplet was hard to shake off, pulling at his feathers and delivering small but powerful punches to his sides.

In the midst of the chaos, Fenton tugged at the collar of his shirt. “Um….Gyro, if this is a bad time, we could just reschedule the date. I’d be okay with it!”

“Fenton, there’s no time to speak!” Louie panted, still keeping the struggling chicken pinned down. “Run before-wait, date?”

“YES!” Gyro snapped, successfully shaking the enraged duckling off and getting to his feet. “What did you think this was!? A friendly get-together?”

Louie blinked in surprise before laughing nervously. “Uh….well, funny thing is, we….kind of thought you were, y’know, just….plotting to kill him.” He shrugged, awkward grin growing as he saw how astonished the other became.

Gyro snarled. “If I was plotting to kill him, do you really think I’d do it in my own house?”

“...Okay, maybe that was a big thing to overlook,” Louie admitted, trying to avoid Gyro’s angry glare.

“Wait, so what was the blood on your hands from?” Dewey piped up.

“Probably the red pen I accidentally broke while writing a note for Fenton.” Gyro rolled his eyes, grabbing a cute little envelope on his nightstand and awkwardly handed it to the duck next to him. “Um...you can just read it later.”

“Aww, thanks!” Fenton smiled at him, blushing slightly.

“The blood on your apron and the floor?” Huey looked curiously at the stains on Gyro’s clothes.

“Wine and tomato sauce? I was cooking. Well, trying to cook.” Gyro shrugged. “Webbigail seems to have figured that out already.” He gestured to the duckling who was licking the floor for confirmation. Smacking her lips to study the taste, she gave an affirming nod of the head, satisfied with the result.

“Then why did you attack Launchpad?” Louie folded his arms, still having questions. “And why were talking to Manny about not telling anyone he was involved?”

“What? Oh!” Launchpad cut in. “I accidentally scared Dr. G, and he threw a can of tomato sauce at my head.”

“It was on reflex,” Gyro sighed, looking to Launchpad. “Sorry.”

“It happens.” The large duck gave him a thumbs up.

“And as for Manny, he’s the one who set us up to begin with,” Gyro admitted. “He doesn’t like taking the credit for that, the humble soul he is.”

“Oh.” Louie looked down at his feet. “Uh...I guess I owe you an apology.”

“Good guess!” Gyro snapped, smiling tightly to mask his frustration as he folded his arms.

“Trust me guys,” Fenton said as he came up behind the chicken, wrapping an arm around his waist, “the closest Gyro has gotten to being a murderer is smashing cockroaches in the lab. He’s really just a big ol’ softie.”

“I am not!” Gyro argued lowly, face flushing red as Fenton stood on his toes to kiss his cheek.

“Aww!” all four ducklings cooed in adoration.

“Would you rugrats just get out of my apartment already so I can clean it up and Fenton and I can enjoy the rest of our evening?” Gyro snapped.

“Wait, Dr. G!” Launchpad smiled haplessly, getting to his feet. “These four were going to surprise you by cleaning your place! That’s why I drove them over here.”

Dewey shook his head. “Launchpad, that was just the ruse to get-”

“Why, how thoughtful!” Gyro spoke with an overly cheery tone, ready to milk this opportunity. “In that case, I won’t hold you children up any longer! Supplies are in the bathroom cabinet and the closet. Be sure to scrub the carpet thoroughly! Ooh, and the kitchen tile grout needs a touch-up!”

The triplets groaned, and Webby took another lick of the floor. “I think I can get the rest of this carpet sauce without the supplies! It isn’t too bad after a few tastes.”

Gyro slightly grimaced at the girl’s treatment of the floor but was averted from watching by his boyfriend patting his hip while his arm was still around him.

“Why don’t we just go to a movie tonight?” Fenton suggested. “We can come back to a nice, clean apartment.”

“Good idea.” Gyro smiled at him calmly, sauntering out the door with his hand placed snugly in the other’s.

“I’ll drive!” Launchpad announced, hurrying out the door behind the couple.

“Wait, Launchpad! We need a ride back-”, Louie called out, only for the door to shut, leaving him and his siblings alone inside the messy apartment. “Home.”


As the couple walked to the car hand in hand and with Launchpad trailing close behind, Gyro breathed an annoyed sigh. “Ugh, I should have known something would go wrong back there! Nothing good ever comes of me trying to make a fancy dinner. Or trying to do something fancy in general. I’m sorry.”

“Hey, you tried, and that’s what counts,” Fenton reassured him, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “It was really sweet of you.”

Gyro averted his stare, trying not to let the other see just how flustered his comment made him. “I suppose.”

Once they’d made their way to the car, Launchpad opened the door for the couple. Fenton noticed the big red welt on his head and grimaced. “Are you sure you feel good enough to drive?”

“Fenton, think about who you’re talking to here,” the pilot replied with a smile. “A little head trauma’s never been enough to keep Launchpad McQuack down!”

“I suppose.” The duck let out a lighthearted chuckle, looking back to his boyfriend. “Heh. I still can’t believe they actually thought you were going to kill me.”

“Don’t even get me started,” Gyro grumbled. “I mean, why would I do that? Sure, you get on my nerves quite often, but I care about you far too much to kill you!”

Fenton forced a nervous grin. “Uhhh...thank you?”

“You’re welcome,” he replied, sinking down in his seat a little as Launchpad got situated in the driver’s seat. A smirk became present on his beak. “Plus, if I was going to kill someone, it would be Mark Beaks without a doubt. I’m still rather frustrated that he got away last time.”

The pilot’s eyes shot open wide. “What do you mean last time?”

“The last time I tried to do away with him,” Gyro replied in a nonchalant tone. “Why else do you think I keep a shovel in the back of Fenton’s car?”

“I thought that was for the good of scientific endeavor!” Launchpad gasped.

Fenton sighed, shaking his head. “Gyro, please don’t do this,” he scolded, before looking to Launchpad. “He’s just messing with you.

“Oh...haha...yeah! Of course he is!”

Launchpad made a mental note to keep a close eye on those two.