Oh yes, here it comes! You all knew that this was going to happen! After all, Fidget was the one who attempted to have Queen Mousetoria executed by feeding her to Felicia. What inspired me to write this pastiche story was that scene where Mousetoria has Fidget tied up, and in all honesty, I would've preferred that Fidget's fate in the film would've ended like this. Not to be killed off, but knowing that he had lost, his punishment is the embarrassment he feels for treating his victims so shamelessly. But I did not create the film and Disney took a different route in deciding Fidget's demise. Since Fidget was Professor Ratigan's second-in-command, Disney decided to have Fidget escape with him, only to be thrown in the River Thames by the very employer he had served for many years. Sorry Disney, as much as I love how you make your points in how good guys will always win, this one was a total disappointment. Why couldn't you make Fidget's fate similar to Horace's and Jasper's from 101 Dalmatians? That would've been fair.

However, I decided to do a little twist on this one. Something that would completely turn Fidget's prejudice of fat, rich, lazy mice around as he discovers some enlightening information he never knew about Mousetoria ... specifically her relationship with Prince Albert and the original vision they shared for the good of all mousedom.

Chapter 1: What Should I Wear?

"Hear ye! Hear ye! Queen Mousetoria announces a masquerade ball to be held at Buckingham Palace! All citizens are to attend, be it rodent or other!"

Fidget sat on the bench not too far from St. James Park, catching his breath from the excitement of the crowds. Paul Triste happened to be with him, the Von Freirherr Brothers trust Fidget enough to allow him to look after Paul while they were out on errands. And for the most part, Paul was well behaved. Fidget didn't have to worry too much that Paul would wander far and get himself lost. And Paul enjoyed Fidget's company, frequently asking the bat if he could help out with anything. Generally, Fidget would get annoyed at the thought of someone wanting to help him too much, but he reminded himself that Paul was just a child and only meant well.

However, there was another matter that annoyed him more. This masquerade that the town crier kept mentioning about ... All citizens were to attend, be it rodent or other. Fidget didn't like the fact that creatures that were non-rodent were referred to as other. As a matter of fact, it secretly pissed him off. Which brought him to an even deeper level in his anger ... He had to attend, whether he liked it or not, in the same exact palace where he had Queen Mousetoria tied up and almost fed to Felicia. He was to see that, that ... fatty queen again?! Eck! Of all his past crimes he had done, this one he was not sorry for! This was the same queen who carelessly lead mousedom into stagnation, who outcasted creatures of the night like him because he was a bat! And Fidget wasn't the only one who disliked the queen. Oh no! It was often talked about that others had attempted to assassinate Queen Mousetoria in the past. Most of them were sentenced to "transportation," never to be seen by their families again, some were sent to insane asylums. If Queen Mousetoria were to ever so much as see Fidget again, she would surely have announced sentence on him to either of those two fates. Both equally frightened him.

"What will you dress up as for the ball, Mr. Fidget?" Paul asked.

"I don't know, Paul, but hopefully it's somethin' dat resembles a wall," Fidget replied in a sarcastic manner.

"Why do you say that?" Paul asked inquisitively. Clearly, the boy was clever enough to catch onto Fidget's sarcasm.

"Because Queen Mousetoria is a fat, lazy, spoiled ...!" Fidget did not complete his sentence. He was too caught up in his anger toward the queen. "Pigs are better lookin' dhan her!"

"Hey, don't say that, Mr. Fidget! That's not nice!"

The tone of authority in Paul's voice made Fidget clasp his mouth with his webbed hand. Well, she IS, was what the peg-legged bat wanted to say, but he was already embarrassed for setting a bad example to Paul. Fidget considered himself lucky that Paul was smart enough not to copy another person's vices.

"You're right, I'm sorry," Fidget sighed, his cheeks blushed. "Mr. Fidget just had to let out his frustration."

Paul raised an eyebrow. "Why are you frustrated?"

"Because I'm bein' forced to go to a masquerade ball," Fidget replied, "and da queen and I don't get along too good."

"Why?"

"She hates bats."

"Why?"

"Because bats are creatures of da night, and she doesn't like dat."

"Why?"

I just told you WHY, now STOP ASKING! Fidget yelled in his head. Why the bat did not say his thoughts out loud wasn't because he feared hurting Paul's feelings for simply asking why. The little boy was much stronger in character than the Von Freirherr brothers gave him credit for, and Paul would've likely asked Fidget why he was being yelled at. The real reason Fidget held his tongue was because sometimes he would get tired of his own whining and complaining, even if others around him were tolerant of it. It was not healthy for him to dwell on negative thoughts all the time, his foster parents and Father Richards constantly had to tell him that. And if the bat had to think of any good traits that came from his previous trainings as an outlaw of society, it was that Fidget was a quick thinker. Folks were less likely to help if the other party complained too much. Fidget should know, he had to deal with that infuriating character named Blade when he was Captain Bates's slave.

"What if you asked her, Mr. Fidget?" Paul asked, aware of the secretly angry expression on Fidget's face.

The bat's eared perked at the sound of Paul's idea. The corner of Fidget's mouth quirked up and a breathy giggle escaped through his nose. "Dat's not a bad idea, Paul," Fidget replied, keeping an upbeat outlook on the situation. "Maybe I will ask her." Then Fidget turned his head slightly to look the other way. Dat is, if she LISTENS to me ...

Paul smiled and hugged Fidget at the waist. "So, what costume did you have in mind?"

Fidget rubbed the back of his head as he thought about it. "Dat's kind of hard, Paul," he replied, his large ears slightly drooping from embarrassment. "Costumes don't really suit me." He recollected all the times he had dressed in disguises for any of his crazy errands. He obviously wasn't going as the old woman he once did when dealing with Baron von Freirherr. This was a formal masquerade so the expectations would be much higher. Furthermore, it would only stir up bad memories with Rolfe if he saw him in that and Fidget did not want to start that again. Fidget couldn't dress up as a pirate, that was for sure. The Nightwing Pirates' tyranny may have been gone, but definitely not forgotten by the citizens of mousedom. And that baby bonnet would just look plain ridiculous ... although he did pull manage to crack a smile from Deniece when he had been silly with her one night. He had snatched a baby bonnet from one of her foster mother's old dolls and put it on his head to see how Deniece would react. She told Fidget that he looked stupid in it, but she couldn't stop herself from laughing at the sight.

Fidget tilted his head as he pondered ... There was one outfit that he actually didn't mind wearing. It was still a bit fancy for his usual tastes, but so far it had been the one that looked best on him.

"Oy! You two!"

A distant voice disrupted Fidget's thoughts, though only for a moment. It was Hans von Freirherr, and he held two bags of food in his hand. But where was his brother, Rolfe?

"'Elp me to take these to Miss Lydell's place," Hans ordered. "Rolfe and I want to make sure she and Dianah 'ave plenty to eat for a week or two. I don't know 'ow long this masquerade ball is going to be."

"Aren't Allison and her friend comin' too?" Fidget asked above the din as he took one of the bags from Hans. "I t'ought dat everyone had to attend da ball."

"They are coming," Hans replied, "but we could all be at the palace for a while. Miss Lydell may not 'ave the opportunity to replenish her cupboard."

"What would da queen's reaction be if she saw Dianah?" Fidget asked with a hint of curiosity.

"Miss Lydell said she'll most likely be outside with Dianah. I don't think we 'ave to stay indoors, Mr. Fidget. And furthermore, Dianah is only a kitten. We won't 'ave to worry about 'er causing trouble."

Fidget sighed inwardly. Maybe not, but mice still fear cats, even if dhey're only kittens. Allison did say dat rats were da only ones darin' enough to befriend cats. Still, it did put Fidget's mind at ease to know that Allison, Charles, and especially her cat, Dianah, were going to be there. Having familiar faces present really helped in least desirable situations. Not to mention that Allison herself resented fancy things too. She and Fidget may have gotten off the wrong foot in the past, but that was one thing they both had in common.

"'Ow 'as Paul been?" Hans asked Fidget.

"Paul has been fine," the peg-legged replied with a smile as Paul Triste hugged him by the waist.

"You must really 'ave a way with children," Hans gave him a stunned look. "Paul can be a bit of an 'handful sometimes ... and a bit of a know-it-all. He likes to drive Rolfe and I crazy sometimes."

Fidget wrapped his free wing around Paul. "Dhere is never a dull moment with Paul."

Hans shrugged his shoulders in a nonchalant manner. "Perhaps."

"Oy, Hans!" the trio heard a voice cry. It was Rolfe von Freirherr, and he held a couple bags as well ... except these bags contained some bards costumes. For the masquerade ball at Buckingham Palace, no doubt.

"What are you three waitin' for?!" Rolfe replied in a flustered manner. "We don't 'ave all day!"

Hans allowed Rolfe to lead the way in the direction of Allison Lydell's house. Fidget and Paul followed close by.