Basil burst into the parlor. "Where was it, where was it..." he muttered under his breath, searching through his bookcase. "Aha!" He slid a red-bound tome out from the bookshelf and flipped through its dusty pages, scattering the yellowed bits of paper that had been tucked in between them. "I found it, Dawson! I got it!"

Dawson appeared in the doorway, closing the door behind him as he scurried in. "What, exactly?"

"This!" Basil shoved a newspaper clipping at him. Dawson frowned, taking the newspaper gently in his hand and sending a pointed glare at Basil as he got out his reading glasses. Adjusting them on his face, he held the paper out at arm's length. It was a newspaper clipping.

Mystery Man Catches Robbers

A masked mouse identifying himself only as "The Musketeer" made a third appearance Saturday night while apprehending two burglars as they robbed a home. The police managed to catch only a glimpse of the mouse as he left the mildly injured and badly shaken thieves to be taken to jail. The mouse is described as wearing a dark-colored musketeer costume and mask, and wielding a sword. While this mouse has been reported twice by witnesses, this is the first time law officials have managed to see the elusive vigilante. Their identity remains a mystery.

"I read that newspaper article when I was a boy. It intrigued me," Basil explained. "It was one of my first mysteries, in a way. It's been so long, I'd almost forgotten completely...the mouse we were dealing with isn't the original, of course, which makes me think that he's some sort of copycat..."

"Wait a minute, Basil. How do you know that he isn't the original?"

Basil sniffed. "The original is dead. In a particularly nasty fight with some low-down criminals. They say he took a bad hit and toppled off a rooftop. They never found the body."

"How dreadful..." Dawson replied. "But how does this relate to the Musketeer we saw tonight? And why they had the family treasure?"

"That part remains a mystery, my dear Dawson. But! I believe the Malis have a hidden connection with this Musketeer." Basil explained. Just then, there was a rapid knock at the door.

"It's me, Basil," a familiar voice called from outside. Basil hurried to the door, grabbing the newspaper clipping from Dawson without ripping it. He opened the door to see his older brother there.

"Edmund." Basil started out. "I just was-"

"Blast it all, Basil," his brother muttered, shoving past him, all gentlemanly manners gone. He was seething. "Both the fugitives we are after show up and slip right out of your grasp. I thought I could trust you of all people to take care of this case. I see now that I was mistaken," he spat.

Basil was outraged. "I'm sorry? I didn't think you-"

"First you let Ratigan escape...Again! And you couldn't catch the musketeer! To be frank and honest, I excepted more from you." Edmund stated.

"First of all, I didn't LET Ratigan escape!" Basil nearly yelled. "I chased after him-"

"And let the Musketeer escape as a result!" Edmund interrupted him again. "And they call you the great mouse detective!"

Basil spluttered in fury. Dawson had had enough. "You gave him the case, Edmund," he interjected. "And now you criticize how he solves it? Besides, at least he helped make sure nobody got seriously injured!"Edmund glared at Dawson but didn't say another word. He didn't admit it out loud, but the good doctor was right. Edmund the let out a long held sigh.

"...Do what you wish, Basil. But I don't want another failed capture. This vigilante is too risky and dangerous." He stated."Oh, wait just a minute," Basil poked his older brother in the chest. "I took this case and I intend to see it through."

Edmund laughed. "Oh, really? Of the two of us here, who is the older, more important government official?"

Basil scoffed. "You can't stop me anyway. I'll solve the case behind your back if I have to."

"Really?"

"Really."

Dawson sighed. "Isn't it better if you both work on the case? You've done it before." "Dawson, please! Stay out of this one!" Basil stated. "Anyways, I think this vigilante is connected to the vigilante from the past. It's possible-" Just as Basil was about to continue, the trio heard a scream come from down the street. Basil ran out the door, followed by Edmund. The brothers came to the sight of a thug holding a young woman close, with a knife close to her neck. And standing across from them was a slightly older gentleman, hesitating on what to do.

" 'And ova your cash, mate! Or your pretty thing not gonna be so pretty no more!" Edmund reached for his pistol, which he had hidden in his coat (being the important government official that he was, he always had some form of protection with him). He was about to pull it out but everything happened in a flash. Suddenly the thug was kicked to the ground, letting the female go. As the thug was about to get up but a quick punch to the face from the Musketeer Vigilante knocked him flat. The female mouse barely had time to scream as Basil pounced, knocking the musketeer to the ground in the scuffle. Quickly he pulled off the mask."No!" The musketeer quickly used one hand to cover their face and tried to run away, but Edmund grabbed the cape and pulled it back, taking the vigilante along with it. The musketeer fell to the ground, and Basil removed the gloved hand away from the musketeer's face. Basil's face expression changed from attacking fury to utter shock when he saw who was behind the mask. "Miss Mali?" Dawson gasped.

"You're the one behind this?!" Basil shouted incredulously.

Seeing no other way, Erica began to explain. "I had to do it, Mr. Basil. For my family!" She was struck silent by the rough hold Edmund seized of her arm.

"Regardless of what you did it for," he said coldly, "you are still a criminal."

"As if someone like YOU could understand." She spat at Edmund. "You would never...understand..." Erica began to get quiet as she looked down at the ground.

"How did you get here?" Basil interrogated.

"Followed him from the party," Erica said. "I saw him get away. Of course," she laughed, "seeing as the police are absolutely useless at their jobs..."

Basil sent Edmund a look. Green met green and they both understood."We had better take this inside," Basil said curtly. He sent a glance at the frightened and confused couple standing nearby. For a moment he had forgotten about them.

Edmund noticed and immediately took action. "Tell no one about this, by order of the queen. If word gets out I will hold you both responsible." He fished a wad of money from his pocket and slipped it into the gentleman's paw. "For your troubles."

The gentleman and lady nodded quickly and hurried off. Erica was silent as they walked into Basil's flat. She did nothing except sit down across from Basil's seat, accept a cup of tea, and not say a word. Edmund, Basil, and Dawson waited for her to look up at them. But that didn't happen for a while, and when she did, she looked at the three men with a humble, yet fierce glare.

"What are you waiting for, Official?" She finally asked, obviously talking to Edmund. "Aren't you going to arrest me? Aren't you going to arrest Musketeer X?" She nearly spat at him in disgust.

"Not until you've answered some questions," Edmund answered simply. "For example. What on Earth are you doing running around so late at night, fighting dangerous criminals on the streets?"

Erica held up her head proudly. ""My family...the blood of royal musketeers runs deep through our veins. The Malis served all nobility over Europe for many years. Until...musketeers swordsmen weren't really needed around anymore. However, the Malis are very stubborn. You may have guessed that already," she gave a small smile. "Even with guard jobs or protection duty, we always practiced are techniques until they became as sharp as the swords we used." Erica was silent for a moment before continuing. "Musketeers are bound to struggle against evil and protect. Even at fourteen, I can see that the city I live in is teeming with evil. And that is why I've decided to become the Musketeer Vigilante that stands before you. The vigilante I call, Musketeer X." She turned a glare on Edmund. "Mice like you are only concerned with money and politics. Everyone knows that the streets of London are full of danger and crime and yet nothing changes. And you!" Her eyes turned to Basil, and then to Dawson. Betrayal was written in her eyes. "I thought you were like us. I admired you. You were willing to go places that the police didn't, solved cases that the officials couldn't, put awful criminals like Ratigan in their place! And yet I find out you are working for mice like him," she nodded at Edmund.

"I am doing my dear brother a favor by offering my services to this case," Basil informed her. "If my assumptions are correct, you already encountered Edmund and a few officers in a scuffle the other night. You took something from the masked men you apprehended."

Erica pursed her lips. "I might have."

"Would you mind telling what exactly you took?" The detective asked

Erica scoffed. "You honestly except me to tell you? Just like that?" She questioned, snapping her fingers.

Edmund's eyes darkened. "Yes."

Erica looked away. Thinking of what to say or how to reply. Then she sighed in defeat and looked back at Basil, trying to ignore Edmund, and answered.

"I took what those thugs original stole from the family the robbed." She answered. "It was the will of their late grandfather."

"And what was on this said will?" Basil asked. Erica shrugged.

"I'll be honest, I only go a small look at the will but a saw a lot of money was left to the family." She answered. Basil's eyes narrowed. "You're lying."

Erica's brows knit together. "I am not!" She cried. "I am being honest!"

Basil let out a short laugh. "Please. You're dealing with the world's greatest detective here." Edmund rolled his eyes. Dawson continued to watch the scene play out, a rather confused expression cemented on his face. "Don't you think I can tell when I'm being lied to? Now come clean," Basil continued. "You probably know that will by heart. Because that will was..."

"Your grandfather's," Edmund finished for him. Dawson's jaw dropped.

"How on Earth could you possibly have deduced that?" He cried.

"Elementary," the brothers replied vaguely and in unison. Realizing they answered together, they turned and glared at each other.

Erica's quick moment of shock turned to outrage. "I have no idea what you're talking about!" She denied vehemently.

Edmund's eyes lit up. His stab in the dark had hit a target. "It was your grandfather's," he repeated. "Your uncle's father." He sent a quick glance to his brother, sending a clear message to turn up the pressure.

"Now tell me truly," Basil said, leaning in close to Erica. She stubbornly glared in the opposite direction. "What were those men doing with your grandfather's will? Why are you out living like a vigilante? And more importantly," he said, lowering his voice, "what do you have to do with the former vigilante, the Musketeer?"

Erica was silent. She didn't want to say another word to these mice. They won't understand. They won't, she thought. Erica crossed her arms and and stayed silent. Gears were turning in her head; Basil could easily tell this. She was thinking of something, but of what Basil could be sure about. That's when she finally spoke.

"Arrest me." She said. Those two words left Dawson shocked, Basil stunned, and Edmund the slightest bit confused. "Just arrest me." Erica repeated.

"What? Why?" Edmund asked.

"Isn't that what you want, Official?! To arrest the vigilante that's been stopping crimes and saving lives in Mousedom?! Doing things that YOU and your allies never contributed to?" Erica snapped at him, viciously. But then she calmed down a bit and looked away. "Besides...I don't want to reveal any more than I already have. Arrest me, then I'm in jail, your ego is smoothed, and we all are happy. It's the fastest solution, isn't it?" She asked him, looking him directly in the eyes. Edmund blinked in surprise and looked first at Dawson, then at Edmund."If you're not going to arrest me this time...Then I'll be going now." Erica stood up from her seat, snatched her mask out Basil's hands, and was about walk away from the gentlemice and out the front door. However, Edmund stopped her by grabbing her arm again and pulling her back.

Erica did wince in some pain, Edmund ignored it."If being arrested is what you want, then being arrested is what you shall get. Let's see if a night in jail makes you talk," Edmund said shortly.

Dawson's eyes widened. "But, but Edmund," he said, "she's only a little girl. And jail is..."

"She asked for it." After a few seconds of hesitation, Erica held out her wrists willingly. Edmund took out a spare pair of handcuffs and was about to put them on the Vigilante's wrists.

"Edmund, wait." Basil suddenly was about say something but was silenced by Edmund small, harsh glare at him.

"She asked me to," Edmund said, almost defensively.

"She's hiding something. Perhaps we should go to her uncle first.""I told everything I wanted too. Besides, asking my Uncle will do you no good, detective." Erica added. The detective and his brother looked at Erica. But Edmund then said:

"We'll see, young lady."


There was a knock on the door of the Mali's residence. Christopher was resting in the living room. At the sound, he got up off the sofa, grabbing for his cane. "Sir, I can-" one servant began, but Christopher waved him off.

He hobbled to the door and opened it. "Hello, my dear, are you-" Christopher greeted, stopping short when he saw Edmund, Basil, Dawson, and of course, his niece standing at the door. Erica was still in her Musketeer uniform and Christopher saw she didn't have her mask on. He sighed and looked at Erica.

"Tough night Erica?" He asked, causally. Erica nodded her head.

"Yes, Uncle Christopher." "I didn't say anything more than I needed to. Besides, asking my Uncle will do you no good, detective." Erica added. The detective and his brother looked at Erica.

"Mr. Mali," Basil said shortly. You have some explaining to do."

Christopher simply nodded his head and replied, "yes, I suppose I do. Please, let us talk inside." The three gentlemice and niece followed the master of the house inside. Erica sat down, staring at the hands in her lap, as Christopher and the trio stood.

"Believe me, detective. I've tried to stop her many times, but, as you've no doubt noticed, stubbornness runs in the family." Christopher stated. "Erica never means harm to another mouse of any kind. She only though she was doing what was best for Mousedom."

"And you knew she was doing this all along?" Edmund asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Yes, I did. She tried to hide from me at first," Christopher sent a side glance to Erica, who was still looking down, "but she couldn't for long. I caught her as Musketeer X, one night, when she was sneaking back into her room after one of her late-night patrols."

Erica still said nothing.

"After lectures and punishments of grounding her, she still continues to peruse this goal: to protect Mousedom from thugs and criminals." Christopher explained. "But if you do wish to arrest my niece, then arrest me as well."

"But why? You've done nothing wrong." Dawson said. Christopher shook his head as he chuckled sadly.

"That's where you are wrong, Doctor." He said. "You see, I'm the one who probably inspired her to become Musketeer X, because I...was the original vigilante Musketeer."

"AHA! I knew it!" Basil shouted triumphantly over the noise of his inner theme tune.

"You didn't," Edmund scoffed. "A hunch isn't the same thing." Basil glared at his older brother. He looked away and crossed his arms, muttering something about Edmund.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you, Basil." Edmund said. "Would you mind saying that a bit louder?" Basil was about to reply, but was cut off when Dawson decided to clear his throat rather obnoxiously. Basil and Edmund decided to set aside their little squabble for now. Christopher walked towards the window and stared out it for what seemed like the longest time. When he finally turned around, he asked,

"So, what will you do now, Mr. Edmund? If you're going to arrest us, then let it be. I've told you everything we need to tell you.""I disagree," Basil scoffed. "We still have not gotten an explanation for your father's will," he sent a glare at Erica, who shot one right back, "or about your affiliation with Ratigan!"

Erica's jaw dropped. "Affiliation?!" She shrieked incredulously. "My uncle would never-"

"I'm afraid you misunderstand," Christopher said. "Professor Ratigan and I have a history, yes, but completely antagonistic in nature. It is also a personal matter that I do not wish to speak of. Now, if you are not going to arrest us, then I will bid you all good night. Erica and I have some talking to do." He looked at Erica, who was still upset with Basil. Having the nerve to think that her uncle had some kind of underworld connections with that rat of a professor.

"Mr. Mali, I still want some answers." Basil stated, sternly.

"You be quiet!" All the men looked to see Erica, standing up from her chair, and was fuming with anger. "First of all, you and your brother should NEVER have interfered with my work in the first place! Second, you accused my uncle to be an assistant to the rat! Third-"

"Erica! That's enough!" Christopher nearly shouted, but Erica didn't listen.

"-the truth is, none of you care about what's happening in London nowadays, you're all trying to make names for yourselves! You're no heroes! You three are nothing better than that low-life, Ratigan! All you care about is making your images look better than everyone else's!"

Basil sucked in a breath. His body went rigid with barely contained fury. "How dare you!" was all he could manage to spit out.

Suddenly, Edmund laughed. It was a harsh, humorless sound. "Oh, you are a stupid girl, aren't you? Be quiet, you little brat," he spat, silencing Erica's objections, "and listen to me. The rat that you are dealing with is a menace. You think you are invincible because you know some fancy sword tricks, but when all is said and done, you are still a young girl with little experience and he is the most feared criminal in London history. The truth, whether you wish to admit it or not, is that you are far in over your head, and you sir," he said, sending a pointed glance at Christopher, "made an appalling decision by allowing your niece to put herself in such an abominable amount of danger. But here's the thing. If I turned the other cheek and let you loose to do whatever you wish around the city, it is only a matter of time before you slip up and get yourself killed, thereby destroying every part of whatever it is you're working to accomplish. That is why I must know what this is all about. That is why I asked Basil to help me get to the bottom of this. Because we are trying to save your hide, little girl. But you can't understand that, can you, which is why you sit there and fling insults at us. And if you know what is good for you, you won't dare compare my brother to that piece of filth ever again. Do you understand me?"

Erica stared at him, wide-eyed.

"And you, sir," Edmund yelled, whirling on Christopher. "You will tell me and my brother everything or I will take away everything you care about. Your fencing school, your family fortune, the only family you have left."

"You can't-" Erica began.

"Oh, in due time I think you shall see that I can," Edmund cut in coolly. "I have connections. And not much more patience, Mr. Mali. So, if you please..."

Christopher took a deep breath in defeat. He sat down. "I suppose I should start from the beginning.""It was years ago, but I remember it so well. Ratigan and I were acquaintances for sometime before he became known as the Napoleon of crime. This is when we were younger, mind you. We knew each other very well, and soon began to become closer friends. That is...Until I decided to become the Musketeer and stop crimes around the city. Not knowing Ratigan was the one behind all the crime waves and being the ignorant fool I was, I told him what I was doing. Then...the horrible truth came out one night..."


Christopher was running down an alleyway after a thug who worked for Ratigan, but at the time he didn't know it was Ratigan, who was his boss. Christopher, the Musketeer, finally caught the thug and threw him against the wall. He pointed his emerald-jeweled fencing sword at the thug mouse.

"Where's your boss?" The Musketeer asked. The thug shivered at the thought of what his boss would do to him if he spilled the beans about where he was. The sword's tip pressed gently against the thug's neck. "I'm WAITING." He nearly growled. The thug gulped and quickly told him about the Rat Trap bar, which was the entrance to the hideout. And in a flash, when the thug opened one eye, the Musketeer was gone, without a trance.

The Musketeer slammed the door open to the bar and everyone stopped what they were doing and looked at him in shock and/or in confusion. The Musketeer walked through the bar, ignoring the glances and whispers all around him. He walked behind the bar, despite the barmaid's protest and opened the cellar door on the ground. The bartender tried to stop the Musketeer but only to receive a kick to the stomach. The Musketeer hurried down and navigated through the sewer pipes before he arrived at the hideout.

The Musketeer moved throughout the underground lair when he took a quick peek in the barrel and couldn't believe his eyes. He saw Ratigan sitting on the throne chair, drinking champagne like a king. All Christopher could do was stand there in shock, wondering if what he was seeing was real or not. It was only a moment before Ratigan's large yellow eyes flicked to where Christopher was standing. Quick as a cobra, Christopher snapped back to the shadows. He waited a moment before peeking again. For a brief moment he thought he saw Ratigan's eyes narrow, then he went back to sipping his champagne like nothing had happened.

Whew. Christopher cautiously moved out again, trying to make it into the room without Ratigan noticing. His light-as-feathers feet nimbly carried him into the throne room, staying just out of sight without a sound. He cautiously made his way to the back of the room, waiting just behind Ratigan. He made a move for his sword...

"I really wouldn't, if I were you," Christopher stopped short. Ratigan turned around in his chair so he was facing Christopher, one hand carrying his flute of champagne and the other holding a pistol pointed at Christopher's chest. "I must say, you are very quick on your feet. If I were any other mouse in London, I wouldn't have noticed you were there. Unluckily for you," he smiled wickedly, "I'm not other mice."

Christopher inwardly raised an eyebrow at this clear rat identifying as a mouse, but decided to get straight to business. "I know of what you did to the Princetons," he said accusingly. "I've questioned your thugs."

Ratigan clucked his tongue. "Such a nice family, really. Mr. Princeton shouldn't have double-crossed me. Oh well. I think my darling little kitten enjoyed her snack."Christopher growled but remained still. He knew that any sudden movements would surely cause Ratigan to pull the trigger on the pistol. Christopher narrowed his eyes through the mask he wore on his face and glared the Napoleon of Crime.

"...I trusted you, Padraic." Was all Christopher could say. "I trusted you. Why?" Ratigan simply chuckled at Christopher's question.

"Why? I'll tell you why. For power, dear Christopher! For power!" Ratigan exclaimed, spreading his free arm out wide to make a point of some kind. "Every mice Mousedom is foolish and naïve, nothing like myself. They need someone to guide them, someone to rule with true power! The current Queen of Mousedom is too kind and soft-hearted. What this country needs is a KING that's smart, elegant and-"

"She's a better ruler than you'll ever be, Padraic." Christopher interrupted. "You've murdered innocent citizen in cold blood. Most of them who have done nothing wrong. Justice will be brought down upon you, Padraic." Christopher took a deep breath before continuing. "I wish you turn yourself in now. I wish not to harm you, my friend." When Christopher said "my friend", he didn't even know if he should be calling Ratigan a friend anymore.v"Oh, you're one to talk, Christopher. Running around playing judge and jury in that silly little costume. Which, by the way, is about half a century out of date." Ratigan grinned. "Besides, Christopher, I don't wish to harm you either. We are friends, after all. I'll even make a deal with you...if you stay out of my way, I'll let you have a slice of my profits once I come to power. How does that sound?"

Christopher's mouth twisted. He reached for his sword. Ratigan sighed. "I'll take that as a no, then."

Christopher dove for the ground as Ratigan's finger pulled the trigger. BLAM! A bullet pierced the wall. Christopher swiftly clambered to his feet and ran as Ratigan shot again and again. Christopher kept a low run, swerving around the hallway until he got close enough to swipe with his rapier at Ratigan's hand. A clean, thin slice whipped across Ratigan's knuckles, causing him to shriek in pain and drop the gun. It clattered to the floor. Christopher knew Ratigan was far too big for him to take out in hand to hand combat, so he'd have to disable him somehow. He tried to slash at Ratigan's leg but Ratigan blocked it with his claws. Undiscouraged, Christopher tried to stab at his other leg, but this too was deflected by Ratigan's claws. Ratigan shoved at Christopher, causing him to stumble back. Christopher saw the swipe coming and blocked it with his rapier. Just then, Ratigan took his champagne glass and splashed the remnants of his drink into Christopher. The evil rat took advantage of Christopher's momentary blindness to send a powerful kick into Christopher's stomach. Christopher was sent skidding across the floor.

Christopher heard voices. He blinked his stinging eyes rapidly and got up. Some of Ratigan's thugs were running to the room. They must have followed him down. He knew that to win this fight, he needed to get out of enemy territory. Christopher ran.

"After him!" Ratigan yelled. A thug tried to block his way, but Christopher stabbed him quickly in the shoulder and shoved him out of the way, scrambling over his body to get free. He raced back the way he came, heart pounding in his throat. He got through the bar, passed the drunkards and thieves, and out into the night. Hearing his pursuers close behind him, Christopher looked around for an escape. He needed to get to higher ground. His eyes settled on a pile of trash that was piled high against the side of the bar.

Wrinkling his nose, he sheathed his sword and scrambled up the side of the putrid, rotting pile of garbage, scratching at the wall for a grip. Suddenly, he felt a sharp tug at the edge of his cape. He looked down and saw a thug's claws sunk into his cape. He made a sharp kick at his face, sending him tumbling down the pile of trash. Christopher pulled himself up on the rooftop and pulled out his sword, readying himself for a fight. He heard them coming. They were coming fast, and Christopher tried to prepare himself, but this time, he felt like he was way over his head on this case. Shaking the feeling away, Christopher got ready for action when the first thug appeared. Christopher charged but was unaware of the gun the thug mouse held behind his back. He was shot. The musketeer was shot in his leg. Christopher screamed in pain. But he didn't give up, for all he did was kneel done on his old leg, that wasn't shot, and glare up at the thugs coming for him. He raised his sword only to have get kicked out of his hands. The next thing Christopher knew, he was getting the living crap beaten out of him, and soon, was thrown off the rooftops.

This was it. He was finished. But at least he was doing something that meant the world to him: Protect and defend his home...At least, that's what he thought...when he felt something catch him while he was falling and loosing consciousness.

"…And that's what happened." Christopher finished explaining. "Before you ask, no. I don't know who, or what caught me. All I remember was waking up in my bedroom with my personal maid, Jennifer, watching over me, worried."

"Did she know you were the musketeer?" Edmund asked.

"That was the night she found out." Christopher said, sadly. "After she told me my leg wouldn't be as good as it use to be ever again, she told me I couldn't risk anything else to this, in her words, not mine, this 'foolish hobby'. I told her it wasn't foolish, nor was it a hobby. But she didn't listen, and forbid me from becoming the Musketeer ever again. And for the first time in my life, I reluctantly listened to someone." Christopher looked at the trio of gentlemice and gave off a small smile.

"Alright, that's my story. Am I leaving anything out?" He asked Basil and Edmund. Basil pursed his lips. "Why did Ratigan come here tonight?"

Christopher coughed. "Erica took something from him. Or his minions, anyway. You see, after I retired from being Musketeer X, I laid low for a while. Very low. Ratigan knew who I was, of course, but he also knew that to protect my own identity I could not expose him for who he was. I don't know why he did not come after me before now. Maybe I wasn't a significant enough threat, or perhaps something of our previous friendship remained, something enough to save my life. Whatever the reason, I was not troubled by Ratigan until Erica decided she wanted to become the Musketeer." As he said this, all eyes turned to Erica. "Erica, dear," Christopher said tiredly, "care to tell them why you became Musketeer?"Erica was silent but then started talking. "I did it to avenge my uncle. When he told me about all this, I knew couldn't just sit around. So...I become the next Musketeer, Musketeer X." Christopher looked back at the trio.

"I'm sorry to have taken such a long time to explain this situation. So, what do you plan to do now?" Christopher asked. "If you are going to arrest my niece..." Christopher walked in front of Erica, as if trying to protect her, "I suggest you instead arrest me in her place."