happilyeverbeginning | toss a coin to your witcher (dumb duck trio)

Scrooge hadn't said a word as the brother-in-law tried to spin things. He'd simply glared coldly while contemplating how best to ruin the man's entire financial career.

It would take little effort to completely crush the man beneath his spatted foot. He'd do it without remorse for what was done to poor Marzia.

"I had to purchase special equipment for this job. I would have considered eating the cost myself had I been allowed to do my job unimpeded, but given the interference, you all will have to deal with the cost being passed on to you on top of the interference clause upcharge."

It was part of the contract he'd signed with the village's mayor. The clause was in there because of people stupidly trying to play at heroics...or trying to get out of having to pay him in the first place by making him do all the heavy lifting and then swooping in at the last minute to complete the job. Honestly, he wished he'd levied a higher surcharge given this town's attempt at hiding key information.

Of course no one was happy about this, but the contract was iron-clad. No getting out of it, even though they did their best to blame Brother-In-Law, and even Ratface - surely the Spells sent him to cause distraction and chaos! THEY should be the one paying for the upcharge! Of course, they were oblivious to the fact the special equipment came from those Spells...

But for all the hemming and hawing, they did finally fork over evert last bill that was promised.

Scrooge made a point of carefully counting out the money before pocketing it in front of the crowd, ensuring that he had every last penny.

He then looked towards the preacher. "You. Priest."

"Y-Yes?" the man stammered.

"Next time you attempt an exorcism, make sure you know what you're doing and -- most importantly -- why." Scrooge's eyes were flinty. "An exorcism is a tool for expelling demons from hosts. When cast on the ghosts of the mortal dead, it destroys them completely. Slowly. It's like taking a bath in a vat of acid with no way out.

"Because of you, Marzia Biancardi -- a member of your own flock -- lost the last shreds of her humanity, her only chance at passing on to Paradise. Now her father will never be reunited with his beloved daughter in the afterlife." He narrowed his eyes. "Keep that in mind the next time you stand at the altar...and when you finally stand before your Maker in Judgment."

With that, Scrooge stalked past the crowd.

It should have come as no surprise that whispers started as soon as his back was turned, not even waiting until he was far away enough not to hear. It wasn't their fault Marzia died! She took her own life! She wasn't woman enough to keep her man! She should have stuck around and made the marriage work! Maybe the Spells enchanted the husband to cheat, or enchanted the girl to take her life!

Nobody wanted to take the blame. But much to their frustration, Scrooge was on soul they couldn't blame - because he'd gotten rid of their problem. He'd done just as he was told, and there was no getting around it. What a bothersome man, to indulge in gossip and dig up old stories no one wanted to talk about. Good riddance to him.

Scrooge listened to the whispers. His mind darted to his normal business and remembered the petition from this village to help develop the area. It wasn't particularly wealthy to begin with, and Scrooge believed in helping others by providing opportunities for them to help themselves when possible. If he made money from the deal, all the better.

In a way, this incident showed him the true colors of the quaint little town he'd considered investing in. If this was how they treated their own neighbors, well, they'd be highly unlikely to treat outsiders any better. He would not subject his people to these vile creatures.

He pulled out his old flip phone and hastily typed a message in code to his Chief Financial Officer. As he kept walking, he heard the mayor's phone chime followed by a cry of dismay.

He didn't need to read the message that had been sent to the mayor's phone. He smirked as he kept walking.

After careful consideration, our CEO has declined to invest in your project. We here at McDuck Enterprises bid you good luck in your future endeavors.

Once more, no one would take the blame for the deal going south. It was Mariza's fault for haunting the village and scaring away potential investors! It was Brother-In-Law's fault for getting into an argument with Scrooge! It was the Spell's fault, they probably put a hex on the investment!

At this rate, the noonwraith was probably going to be the least of their problems. A village this dirty and despicable was likely crawling with ghosts and ghoulies from ill grudges and dishonorable ends. Which begged the question of who took care of all of that before? And why only now was an outsider taking the job?

That last part occurred to Scrooge as he walked back to his hotel. He called the home office once he was in his room.

"Quackfaster, sorry but I need you all at the Bin to keep your hands on the till. Something's come up."

"Anything we can do?"

"Yes, actually. If you can send your research team out, I need information on this area. The locals are useless on that front...save two." He sat down on the edge of the bed. "There's a lot of nasties here, and I'm not talking about the supernatural creatures. This place is looking more and more like a spiritual pressure cooker, and whoever's supposed to have their hand on the release valve is nowhere to be found."

"Understood, sir."

"Thank you, lass. I appreciate it."

"Anytime."

With that, the call ended.

Scrooge pocketed his cellphone and frowned. He needed to talk to the De Spells again. He was going to need a lot more supplies than he'd thought.

By the time Scrooge woke up in the morning, he'd find out the truth - and just like with Mariza, there had been plenty to hide.

According to the researchers, the noonwraith definitely wasn't the first spiritual nasty the villagers had suffered from. But they had done their best to hide this fact, and even pretend the old horrors never happened. But the monsters hadn't simply vanished on their own - each time a supernatural murder had occurred, there had been someone there to get rid of it. A pair of someones - a husband and a wife. A father and mother to little twins.

Scrooge read the report over via his tablet. Despite the grim information, he had to smile with pride. Quackfaster was the best in the business, and not once had he ever regretted hiring her or taking her recommendations for those who worked beneath her. Her official title was Head Archivist, but it was so much more than just keeping track of his personal Archives.

He sent a quick note back to her to thank her for her team's work. He then contacted his CFO to authorize a special bonus given to Quackfaster and her team for their quick and thorough work on top of their already not-inconsiderable workload. Those who worked in his Bin or at least directly beneath those who worked there knew that the stingy old miser was incredibly generous to those who went above and beyond the call of duty. Quackfaster's team had likely put in a full night's work while he'd rested.

Grabbing a breakfast sandwich and a coffee to go, Scrooge headed back towards the De Spell mansion. Now that he knew the dark history of the town, the mansion itself made perfect sense: It was a symbol of the ancient agreement between House De Spell and the village. The De Spells had guarded against the dark things of the world much like the agreement he'd arranged between Countess Morgana and her coven's neighbors.

He looked about for Ratface. If he didn't find the familiar, he'd just knock on the door.

He was difficult to spot at first - a black bird that pudgy suited the shadows nicely. It was when he opened his eyes he was visible, though he huffed a bit, making appear even bigger - but comically so. "Leave the weapons away, and then in you go, same as before."

Perhaps he was less worldly and mystical and just more like Poe - jealous of anything that took his mistress' attention. He hopped up, and flew into the manor.

Scrooge dropped the revolver and bag on the front porch. That way if someone had followed him with the intent to steal his things, they wouldn't get far before he caught up.

He entered the manor, heading immediately towards the room he last met the De Spells in.

"I apologize for the rude intrusion, but this is more than just about money owed you both." He looked from one twin to the other. "I need you to answer me truthfully: Were you aware that your parents were the guardians of this area?"

Edited 2022-02-10 22:16 (UTC)

This time, instead of sitting together and glaring daggers at the intruder, the Spells had been up and about. Tea was being poured, along with a few small baked goods. Had Scrooge suddenly barged in on breakfast, or had he been expected and therefore good hosts sprung into action?

Whatever the answer to that question was, his question hit them much harder. Both twins went wide-eyed with surprise, Magica dropping the kettle and Poe using his magic to catch it and gently set it on the table. Ratface was sitting atop a chair, watching him evenly.

The twins exchanged a look, and Poe answered before Magica could. "Yes. We've always known."

Magica sat down, crossing her arms. "And it's what got them killed."

Scrooge's face turned apologetic. "I'm sorry to throw that in your faces, but I just learned of that this morning while investigating the root cause of how things have gotten so bad here. I understand why you wouldn't have mentioned it before: I'm an outsider in these matters. Unfortunately, that means I'm much farther behind that I'd like.

"There's going to be more death coming. And faster. And you're going to be blamed for it all. And those villagers know not to call me to do their dirty work."

"You're not exactly telling us anything new." Poe said as he began pouring tea into three(?) cups. "You think we don't know how fast things have gone to hell in a handbasket?"

"But why does this concern you?" Magica asked, eyebrow raised. "You were only brought in to get rid of the noonwraith, right?"

"Because I don't like watching innocents die. You've done these people no wrong, and I can't just leave you two undefended. Aye, I know you're powerful sorcerers in your own right -- you've clearly got both the skill and the bloodline for it -- but there's potentially spiritual magic at work and that's a lot more sinister than most people expect. These people have been manipulated -- either through spiritual magic or preying on good old-fashioned greed -- into doing something's bidding. I don't know if the ultimate source is magical or just ignorant, but it's using these villagers as foot soldiers to eliminate your family. They'll use you defending yourselves as excuses to come at you harder, raising up their fallen comrades as martyrs to march against 'the evil De Spells'. And sooner or later you'll be overwhelmed.

"I want to end that cycle. Now."

Another matching look of surprises - likely no one had ever called them "innocent" before, and the concept was so bizarre they didn't really believe it. But there wasn't enough money in the manor to pay Scrooge for protection and that was as obvious as the beaks on their faces - so he couldn't be trying to squeeze a profit out of this. They looked so befuddled at his actual empathy and generosity that they almost had cartoony question marks buzzing around their heads.

"And how, exactly, do you plan on doing that?" Magica asked, while Poe took a very long sip of tea.

"Well, I'm going to need quite a bit of help from you two," Scrooge began, "because I doubt the villagers are going to enjoy having me around for much longer.

"Speaking of them..."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, counting out a thick stack of bills before holding them out to the duo.

"The total fee came out to five thousand euros. For the supplies, here's fifty percent: twenty-five hundred. As much as I hated using the oil on the poor girl, it was far more effective than most people I've gotten that sort of thing from."

Out of five shots, his last two bullets had passed through nothing but air. He'd expected to need to reload or at least dodge.

"As for what I need moving forward, I need supplies and space to take steps to determine what exactly is brewing around here. Potentially a place to sleep since I doubt I'll be welcome at that hotel much longer." He glanced about at the house. "As tactless as this sounds, I need to know if you have electricity. I know you magic folk don't typically need to worry about that sort of thing, but I need to stay in touch with my people for further support. I can bring in further equipment to handle the power and connection needs, but I don't want to damage your home more than absolutely necessary.

"Would you be willing to open your home up to me for three thousand euros a night? I'm not sure how long this will take, so that should cover space for working and sleeping along with any and all repair work for any basic damage I might cause over the course of this. If need be, we can negotiate for the magical supplies and further damage repair on a case-by-case basis."

As he'd been walking up the mountain, the damage to the building had occurred to him as a potential problem. Some of what he planned to do was spiritual magic, specifically calling on wandering spirits for information even his incredibly-gifted research team lacked access to. He didn't do seances very often because of how much attention it brought him, but the wandering dead could be helpful in seeing things even scrying spells missed. Things just sometimes got very, very messy when a spirit that showed up was in a foul mood to begin with.

He'd called Italian HQ and had gotten a ballpark quote for how much it would cost to fully renovate the manor based on his best estimates of what would need to be done. Once the matter was settled, the De Spells would need their home fixed to settle back into their ancient role should they be willing to let bygones be bygones. If they decided to leave (not that he'd blame them if they decided to walk away with all four middle fingers to the villagers at this point), he'd buy the manor from them and try to find someone else to step up as guardian moving forward. This was not going to happen again if he had anything to say about it.

Being a monster hunter in full control of a global, multibillion-dollar business had its perks even if it did leave him little in the way of free time. Still, a man his age needed to keep busy to stay sharp.

The surprise at the innocent remark was nothing compared to the stunned shock of those numbers. Magica's jaw dropped, and Poe silently picked it back up as Scrooge continued to explain. Now both of them were sitting, and it was a good thing, as their legs might have given out otherwise.

This time, there was no "twin telepathy."

"WE'LL TAKE IT!" Magica suddenly shouted, causing Poe to flail and try to cover her mouth.

"What my sister means to say is, obviously, we'll have to to think about-"

"THINK ABOUT WHAT?! That's more money than either of us have ever seen in our lives!"

"Magica, not in front of the-"

"I don't care if he wants me to dress up as his maid and service him six ways to Sunday! I can finally afford to wear something new! And aren't you always whining about the repairs needed in the manor?"

The twins continued to shout over each other, acting like young children instead of the supposedly super powerful immortal sorcerers the village kept imagining them as. It was getting to a point where Magica had Poe in a headlock, although he could have broken free if he wanted to but he didn't want to hurt his sister.

Scrooge was likely getting flashbacks to arguments with his own siblings.

Scrooge bit the inside of his cheek to keep a straight face as the twins tusseled. He glanced over towards Ratface for the familiar's reaction.

"...Not exactly the response I was expecting," he told the bird with a casual shrug.

Ratface had a wing over his face, embarrassed to be seen with them for the moment. "No comment."

The wrestling match ended when Magica had Poe on the floor, her high heel jabbing him in the spine. She calmly put her hands together while she wore a sweet smile. "As I was saying... we'll take the offer. The sooner we can get started on all this, the better."

"Guest room... is upstairs..." Poe groaned in pain, knowing when he'd been defeated.

"Wonderful!" Scrooge smiled. "I can go collect my things from the hotel and be up here with a few of my people by midafternoon to start an assessment on what's needed so basic work can start as early as tomorrow morning. They and any subcontractors needed will all be from outside of the village. Them being all my people will also ensure that the work gets done without sabotage."

Because even those who didn't have direct connections to Scrooge through the Bin knew better than to attempt such a betrayal. Scrooge could be a stingy miser but he made sure that the loyal and hardworking were treated well...and anyone else usually ended up desperately wishing they'd heeded the warnings not to try and screw him over.

"I hope you'll be on hand to help identify anything that shouldn't be touched under any circumstances. I'd rather not end up with any sort of mishaps on top of all this nonsense." He paused. "I understand that there might be new equipment you're in need of to keep up with what I need to get things done, so it'll be fully paid for by me." He grinned at the duo. "Once you've got a shopping list, I'd like to look it over before putting in the order."

Magica was slightly hesitant to let even more people into the manor, but the reminder of the payment put the dollar signs - er, euro signs - right back in her eyes. "Oh, we'll have a list, all right! Just don't be surprised when it's miles long!" She gleefully began to skip to Poe's potion room, wanting to get a head-start.

Poe began to stagger to his feet. "Might want to be a chiropractor on that list..." He grumbled, rubbing his sore back.

Scrooge chuckled. "Ah, lad, I don't think I can cover injury caused by family! Though if it helps, I know some marvelous chiropractors for sister-related back problems. They work wonders on these old bones."

Poe straightened his clothes out before turning to look at Scrooge more seriously. "My sister is desperate for the things she does deserve... But never forget you are a guest in this manor. It is not your place, and it is not your home. If this venture, for whatever reason, puts my sister in danger, I'll not only send you packing, but make sure whoever is waiting for you back home barely has enough to bury."

Even though Scrooge had done a lot for them by this point, he was still an outsider. A life of cruelty with the villagers had taught Poe well that anyone could stab you in the back, no matter how long they had smiled at you before.

Scrooge gave a respectful bow.

"This is your home, not mine. You need only say the word for any reason, and I'll have any work in motion immediately stopped at the next safest point, pay you the day's amount, and be on my way. You have my word."

And the word of Scrooge McDuck was better than any amount of precious metals or gems. Scrooge might have a credit card (as much as he despised the damn thing), but he honestly didn't need it. Everyone knew he made sure to pay his debts in full with receipts to the point where he only needed to say he'd pay someone back to get what he needed, no collateral asked for.

"And while we're on the subject of payment, I assume you want my 'rent' in physical cash? Or do you have a bank I can wire the amount to?"

Edited 2022-02-11 20:39 (UTC)

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