September 28, 1955. Disneyland City.

There were few things the man known as The Shadow liked about crowds,
but one of them was how easy it was to seemingly vanish inside one.
There were people on all sides of him, but none gave a middle-aged
Lamont Cranston a second thought. Instead, this boy fussed that his
ice cream had melted, that man groused that the attractions were
spaced too far apart, and so on. The Shadow was not there for cold
desserts or dressed-up carnival rides. He saw this planned city as a
remarkable mistake. Giving marooned aliens jobs here had been
dangerous. Publicly inviting superheroes to congregate here was worse.
Both his fears had proven true so far, culminating in this new team of
heroes, The Guardians, battling a new incarnation of The Injustice
Society of Evil here. He was glad these Guardians had taken up the
task. His spies had been watching Disneyland City since before its
"unveiling," but he had not been available to take a more active hand
in matters here, until now.

He walked through Fantasyland, thinking it an ironic title. The
superheroes lived in a fantasy world. They were obsessed with public
opinion, more like celebrities than vigilantes. He had nearly
succumbed to that too. Goaded by his protege, The Batman, he had
played the part of "superhero" for ten long years. It had cost him
dearly. He had been a well-honed sword of vengeance, but his lack of
focus had dulled the edge of that sword. His former peers thought him
retired, but instead he had gone underground and returned to fighting
crime in his own manner. It was starting to feel like old times again...

The Shadow lost his moment of introspection when the crowd around him
roared to life. Their attention was focused on the street ahead. He
followed the pointing fingers to an impossibly thin, black-and-white
Mickey Mouse. Mickey Mouse strolled through the crowds, ignoring the
people trying to take his picture or touch him. He was dressed,
uncharacteristically, like a Spanish gaucho. Before The Shadow could
ponder it further, he heard cries of surprise coming from inside a
nearby eatery and noticed Mickey was heading towards it. People
followed Mickey Mouse like he was leading a parade and quickly crowded
around every opening. This was only a minor inconvenience for The
Shadow. He soon slipped inside.

Inside Aunt Jemima's Pancake House, people had cleared the center of
the eatery of tables and were circled around watching. A
near-two-dimensional, colorless Minnie Mouse was already in the
eatery, dressed like a Spanish senorita. Mickey Mouse grabbed her and
began dancing with her to unheard music. The Shadow slipped his hand
inside his open sportscoat and felt for his gun. He would feel more
comfortable with one of his .45 revolvers in hand, but would have to
settle for the small Baretta he had armed himself with to be discreet.
He held it under his coat but cocked it as he watched what was going
on. He was also watching for anything else suspicious. He was well
aware that this living Mickey Mouse had been spotted around Disneyland
City several times before. He knew these "mice" had been created by
the very magic the Injustice Society of Evil had tried to use in their
nefarious scheme.

The longer these mockeries of life were allowed to roam free, the more
chances evil men would have to try to use them to their ends. He would
not let the weed of crime grow from such unnatural seed. He would just
have to wait until the crowd was clear. He glanced at the crowd,
watching for anything suspicious. He saw laughing, smiling -- they
were utterly enraptured by this cartoon performance. But why? He
looked at the cartoon creatures dancing. Their dance was exaggerated,
silly, but not all that funny. Yet it was achingly familiar...

Then he remembered. It was 1928. A trip to the theater. Aviator Kent
Allard had already met Lamont Cranston and assumed his identity.
"Lamont" had trained, prepared, and was ready to begin the vigilante
campaign of The Shadow. But first he...he wasn't sure what he wanted
or expected. He just felt the need to get out. To escape into
Hollywood's glittering fantasy one last time before dealing with the
reality of crime. The cartoon before the film was "Gallopin' Gaucho,"
an early Mickey Mouse feature. It reflected the humor people expected
from cartoons at the time. People laughed. The Shadow laughed too.
Not a sinister, haunting cackle, but a deep, throaty, happy laugh. He
could not stop. He laughed and laughed. It was, he knew, a cathartic
release. He was releasing all the happiness he had built up over a
lifetime, because there would be no place for happiness in the life of
The Shadow. He was still chuckling long after the cartoon ended and
wiped tears from his face.

As The Shadow watched the living cartoons dancing now, he knew he had
seen it before. The surroundings were different, props were absent,
but Mickey and Minnie Mouse were acting out a scene from that cartoon
move for move. The Shadow smiled. He looked around once more at the
crowd around him and recognized that they were all remembering too.
He let out a warm chuckle that blended in with the laughter around him.