Everyone wish my editor Lies good luck on all of her intense finals!

Since the ballroom of Duke Fantome's manor was the biggest and fanciest part of his entire estate, it only made sense for him to hold his party there. Everybody who was anybody was there, and there were gossiping rumors that the Scarlet may show up. Duke Fantom had all but personally invited the man himself, as even the papers had him declare that he was sparing no expense in making Donald feel welcome. As the soiree started, though, Donald wasn't feeling particularly welcome. As he awkwardly moved throughout the crowds, he noticed people were more interested in talking to each other about the Fantom's ballroom and the Scarlet than greeting him. After three failed handshakes, he resigned himself to the buffet table, hoping he could drown his depression and boredom in sugary sweets.

Daisy's rejection still had him rattled and he still didn't know what he had done wrong. What girl wouldn't want to have a wealthy boyfriend on their arm, especially given her condition? He had thought the lower class would claw for any chance to enrich their lives. He paused in his eating as he recalled his life before Scrooge had dragged him to the city. He had lived in the countryside before, and longed for days when his pockets would be stuffed with money. Yet the rest of his family had never felt the same. Sadness began to weigh on his shoulders as troubling memories emerged.

"Oh, my!" A perky young female voice interrupted his trip down memory lane. "Aren't these just the prettiest daisies you've ever seen? Thank you so much for delivering them!" Donald leaned back, and saw a young mouse maiden at the end of the table holding a bouquet of freshly plucked daises. "This will make a lovely centerpiece for the main course."

"And that's all?" Donald could not believe his luck – the mouse was talking to the gorgeous woman who he still adored, despite the heart break. She looked upset even now, crossing her arms and displaying disbelief. "You're not contributing anything else to this party?"

The mouse – Duchess Minerva, if Donald was remembering correctly – fingered one of the flowers in her tiny gloved hands. "We're all obligated to give the master of the house something when they throw a party like this… but it's all a waste of money, just trying to stay in his good graces. This is the cheapest thing I could do. My money is better spent helping those less fortunate."

"I just bet." Daisy grumbled, turning away. She too had heard of Minnie's extreme generosity, yet she refused to believe it was all fact. Too much money twisted people, and there had to be a darker side to this cheerful face. With her delivery done, she was ready to leave the scene, but unfortunately managed to meet eyes with Donald. "Oh, no, not him again!"

"Wait, wait, wait!" Donald scurried over to the girls before Daisy had any further chance to escape. "I know we got off on the wrong foot last time, but-"

"Consider yourself wrong on the entire limb!" Daisy growled, crossing her arms. "Stay away from me!"

"Come on!" Donald groaned, and looked to Minnie for assistance. She merely shrugged, clueless to what the situation was. "… Can I at least know your name?" Donald pleaded, hoping he could be satisfied with just that grain of knowledge. "Just your name, that's all!"

Clearly Daisy wasn't going to leave this party happy. She sighed, "Daisy", making an airy gesture to the flowers Minnie held.

Donald glanced to the bouquet. "… Why, yes those are daises." Misinterpreting, he plucked out one flower, and waved it towards Daisy's face. "Want one?"

"That's my name, stupide!" Daisy slapped the flower out of his hand, insulted that couldn't think of that on his own. "My name is Daisy! Now leave me alone, you money grubber!"

As entertaining as this little show was, Minnie felt a need to help out, and raised her hand to interrupt the spat. "Pardon, but just what is going on between you two? All he wanted was a name…"

And a name he got, as an older voice called out "Donald!" The small group expanded with the arrival of Scrooge McDuck, who had speedily gotten behind his nephew. Grabbing Donald's shoulders, Scrooge spun him around so they were facing each other. "Talk to me! Make it look like I'm busy and absolutely can't be pulled away!"

"Uncle Scrooge, I'm busy and absolutely can't be pulled away!" Donald tried to look back at Daisy, but she was refusing to meet his line of sight, haughtily keeping her beak up in the air. "… It's the women again, isn't it?"

Scrooge nodded, running a hand down his withered face. "Just once, I'd like to go to one of these things without one of them around. It's so terrible being so desired."

"Oui oui, I just bet." Donald replied dryly, giving his uncle a light shove to the chest. "You dragged me here so I could mingle up with the higher up. I'm mingling. Now go have fun with your lady fiends."

"You mean friends."

"I know what I said." For a split second, Donald though he heard Daisy snickering, and whipped his head around to get a glimpse of her smile, but she quickly pretended she hadn't done a thing. As if she would ever find him funny! Donald wondered if it was his imagination after all, and Scrooge had not taken three steps away from the group before he was surrounded by the very women he had been trying to escape. Here, Donald thought, was a chance to show off his smarts, and to prove he did belong to a kind of society Daisy surely wanted to be in. "I've only been in the city a little while, but I already know all about these kooks. They're after my uncle's hand in marriage, and they'll stop at nothing to get it." Minnie already looked curious, and Daisy seemed to be reluctantly drawn in to the explanation.

He pointed to the three women around his exasperated relative. "First off, there's Brigitta MacBridge." She was the youngest of the trio, but still clearly an adult with a relatively tacky blonde hairstyle. "She only came to the city a few years ago, but apparently fell for my uncle at first sight. She thinks true love will get the ring on her finger."

"I've been looking for you all night, Scrooge!" Brigitta clasped her hands together, her eyes full of starry hope. "Didn't you promise me the first dance? There's no one in the whole entire world I'd rather dance with!"

"Save the sap for pancakes, will you?" The second woman elbowed her way in, daring to get much closer to Scrooge physically and earning her a glare from her female opponents.

"That's Magica DeSpell." Donald now spoke of the second woman, who was a sleek, black haired beauty wearing a dress that greatly emphasized her luscious curves more than a woman her age would normally try. "There are some rumors she's got her hands in illegal work, but nothing's ever been proven. She's been trying to win him over by appealing to his… masculine instincts." It made him wince to say it, but at least now he had the full attention of his companions.

"Now then, Scroogie darling…" Magica ran a slim finger up and down Scrooge's buttoned vest, daring to undo one if the right opportunity sprung. "What's say we skip the party and have a business meeting at my place, just you and me?"

"I'd hate to see you trying to be unsubtle, DeSpell." The third woman flicked a finger at Magica's hair, causing more irritation than harm.

"And lastly, we've got Goldie O'Glit." The woman Donald now spoke of was definitely the oldest, judging by her gray hair curls and wrinkles of experience. She chose to dress smartly over sexily, and with the way she was shaking her cane at the younger women, she wasn't burdened by the many years she had seen. "She's actually known him since they were teenagers. She does business trade with America, but lately it's been suffering. If I had to place my bets, though, I'd say she'd definitely get the ring."

"McDuck, If you've got time to attend these parties," Goldie wagged a finger at Scrooge, paying no heed to the venomous glares her enemies were giving her. "Then you've got time to sign the contract I gave you three weeks ago! I haven't even seen you so much as lift a pen towards it!"

"How can you talk about business when there's a party to enjoy?" Brigitta leaned in, trying to earn back her favor. "He owes me a dance!"

"You owe us for wasting his time!" Magica kept her elbows up in an attempt to drive the others away. "The man has better, and more fun, things to do."

"Do shut the fun up, DeSpell." Goldie picked up her cane, ready to use it if necessary. "Don't you have a 'working lady' to return that dress to?"

The three ladies bickered wildly, and Scrooge never got a word in, but judging from his tired face, this was also typical. Donald could see he had Daisy's full attention now, and didn't want to risk losing it. He began to point out other people in the ballroom, now grateful for all those boring introductions his uncle had made him go through earlier. He turned out to be very good at weaving history together, as even Minnie found herself listening intently, despite knowing several of the guests personally. As the group learned more about the partygoers, they would soon find themselves also the topic of explanation.

Duke Fantom was personally being attended to by Clarabelle, as she carefully refilled his cup every time he took a single sip and tripped over herself to obey his smallest order. Despite her rapt dedication to him, he was far more interested in the men heading towards him. "Shyster, thank you for coming." Fantom held out his cup, and Clarabelle carefully removed it from his hand. "And who is this bright young man with you?"

The young man actually didn't look terribly bright, but by now the Duke knew that Shyster only introduced Fantom to overly wealthy citizens who could pump his bank with their unearned cash. Judging by how new and outlandish this man's clothes were, they had hit the jackpot. "Mortimer Rodawn." He introduced himself, cutting off Shyster as he had just started the say the same name. "No doubt you've heard of my family's long standing support of the arts!"

"Of course, the Rodawn family, this is indeed an honor." Fantom had heard bits and pieces of the pathetic family who originally earned their living by manufacturing boats but now showed off new theaters whenever an empty space popped up. Mortimer appeared to surpass everything needed about him, from his tall height, to his large teeth, and his clothes looked better suited on a smaller person. Fantom shook hands with him, acting as if Mortimer was a prince. "I can't tell you how happy I am that you have decided to grace this event with your presence."

Mortimer's chest swelled with pride, and his eyes gazed over the array of guests. "I figured now would be the perfect time to formally introduce myself to the good people of France. From now on, you'll see me at all of your functions, now that I'm investing in the Tache Bank." He would have gone on and on about how much better the parties would be now that they had his glorious presence, but he caught sight of Duchess Minerva, and like most men, was suddenly swept away by her beauty. Even when wearing such a simple purple dress with a stringy bow in her hair, she was impossible to ignore. "Ha-cha cha!" He yanked his hand back, instantly distracted. "Who's that pretty thing with the flowers?"

Fantom looked to where Mortimer's eyes were fixated, and gears began to grind in his mind. "That would be none other than Duchess Minerva Mouse, good sir. No doubt you know of the most beautiful girl in all of France?"

"Heard, yes, seen, never!" Mortimer rubbed his hands together greedily, his eyes sizing her up in ways a gentleman shouldn't. "Those stories don't do her justice… if it wasn't for that whole charity thing, she'd be a good catch."

"She's a woman, and they easily get caught up in such silly things." Fantom lightly patted Mortimer's shoulder, trying to urge him forward. "What she needs is a good man to set her straight. Why not start off your introduction into fine society by asking her for a dance?"

Mortimer grinned, smoothing down his many coifs and tipping his hat to Fantom in thanks. "Smart in cash and smart in sense! I'll catch you later after I've caught her." Confident in his capture, he began strutting toward the group.

Fantom grimaced down at his fingers, and cleared his throat to Clarabelle, who quickly gave him a fresh napkin to wipe his fingers with. Touching someone who wasn't of superior bloodline like himself tended to make Fantom think he was filthy. Now cleansed, he stood beside Shyster, having a good guess at the second reason why he came over. Shyster didn't meet his eyes for the sake of hiding their intent, and whispered darkly. "There's been a breach in security from the kitchen. It happened five minutes ago, and the guards are already searching for the intruder."

The Fantom smiled and nodded, straightening himself up. "So the last guest has arrived. Clarabelle, go get the preparations. Shyster, make sure Rodawn doesn't get involved yet. He might make a good game piece." His followers made quick nods, and left him to do their duties. Fantom stayed in place to survey the crowd, waiting for the right time.

By now, Minnie had decided to also share her own tales of the guests, keeping Daisy's interest and hopefully smoothing things over between the ducks. She couldn't say for sure but she had a feeling that with the way Donald kept shyly sneaking looks at Daisy there was a flicker of love beating in his heart. Though she didn't know either duck well, she wanted to encourage the flicker, and decided that perhaps they could make a good couple. It would be unusual if it happened, however, since they were on such far opposite sides of social class. But if they did, if they could prove that such a combination could work, maybe she too could –

"Duchess Minerva!" A bothersome voice interrupted her hopeful thoughts, and all three looked up at Mortimer, startled by the appearance of such a tall socialite. "Would you do me the fabulous honor of dancing with me?"

Minnie uneasily looked to her new friends, seeing the spell on Daisy now weakening as she started to look displeased again. "Uh… I was actually in the middle of something, monsieur…?"

"Mortimer Rodawn!" He patted his chest three times, and then whisked the flowers away from her. "No doubt you've heard of me." She hadn't but he didn't give her time to admit it. "And I simply won't take no for an answer." He made that very clear as he shoved the daises into Daisy's arms, grabbed Minnie by the hand, and began to forcefully lead her away. Once on the dance floor, his other hand found her hip as he led her into a waltz. "And you're welcome."

"For what?" Minnie tried to look around him to see how the ducks were progressing without her.

"For getting you away from the peasant, of course." Mortimer chuckled, finding her naiveté adorable. "Honestly, the Duke needs to get better security if riffraff like that can so easily get in."

He was a better dancer than a conversationalist. Minnie tried to weave their dancing around so she could see her new friends, and judging from the cup of punch Donald was now wearing as a hat, things were going sour without her presence. "Must you use such language? She's a perfectly lovely girl." She just seemed to have a temper, from what Minnie could see.

Mortimer tried to humor what he thought were dismissive ideas, and for all intents and purposes, the party appeared as normal as any other. The trio of women continued to fight over Scrooge, Daisy continued to reprimand Donald for even breathing the same air as her, Mortimer and Minnie continued to move across the dance floor, and even the gossip about the Scarlet began to die down. Everyone was so swept up in their own business that it was impossible to notice a new figure casually striding into the ballroom. No one paid him any mind, which was his intent, until he came to Minnie and Mortimer, and spoke up. "May I have this dance, my lady?"

Minnie was grateful for the question, but startled to see from whom it had come. She spoke without thinking, and her voice and words caught the attention of everyone close. "The Scarlet?" Other dancers stopped to stare, and now that attention had been drawn to him, there was no mistaking the masked man that now stood there, donned in red and smiling with all the charm a vigilante could muster.

"That's the Scarlet?" Mortimer stupidly asked, having expected someone not so short to be the man the papers spoke of.

"Well, I didn't hear a no." The Scarlet gracefully took Minnie's hands, drawing her away from the stupefied socialite. Mortimer tried to object, but Shyster pulled him away before he could protest. The crowds began to part as word spread about who had arrived, giving the Scarlet and Minnie plenty of room to dance. All arguments from the feathered friends had halted, and everyone was watching the pair under the glowing lights. His touch on her hand and waist was far gentler than Rodawn's, as if he was afraid to break her into pieces if touched too firmly. Yet his smile displayed utmost confidence as his feet began to move in tune to the live music played at the head of the room.

Ludwig and Gyro were more than ready to back Mickey up. The screens were alive, showing every possible angle of the ballroom, and Ludwig was speaking articulately into the microphone they shared. "And… step, one, two three, good! Side step, right foot back, left foot back… just keep up that pattern. Step, one, two, three." He waved his hand around, pretending to conduct the band personally.

"All weapons stabilized." Gyro reported, pulling back levers and scanning the readings that were being printed out to a side. "We're good to go for any sudden attacks, and I've got a secure hold on the electricity in the room if we need it. Remember, don't make this any longer than fifteen minutes!"

Mickey could hear his friends loud and clearly in his ear, but that didn't mean he was listening to them. He had practiced these dancing steps so much that his body was automatically moving to the music, letting his mind focus on his dancing partner. It seemed unmanly to admit it, but he had dreamed often of a chance to dance with her. Now he had gotten it, and he couldn't be happier. They were in their own world, swaying back and forth in timed movements, with those breathtaking eyes on him and him alone. Had this been the paperboy Mickey, he would have tripped over his big feet and clumsily stuttered apologies. But this was the Scarlet, and he wasn't afraid of anything, including rejection. "Shall I apologize for interrupting?"

Minnie shook her head, numb for words. There were a million things she wanted to ask him, but that intense gaze of his captured her voice each time. It was just like when they first met – he looked at her as if had known her his entire life, and contained a passion she couldn't fathom. The first time he had come to her, she could pass off for coincidence. Now, he had definitely singled her out. "You're… very familiar with me, monsieur."

"Forgive me if I have been too forward, Duchess. But I assure you my intentions are nothing but sincere." He was going to get an earful from his benefactors from going off script with this next bit, but it would be worth it. "Unless you plan to stop your generosity or kindness, you will continue to ensnare my heart. It's quite a predicament."

Minnie had been lavishly complimented nearly her entire life, but it had always been about her beauty. Since her charity work was usually mocked, to hear someone comment so positively about it was new. She swallowed, and managed to arrange her questions in her flustered mind. "Do you mean it… when you say you want to help all of France? That means those less privileged?"

"I meant every word." He nodded once, and began to slow down his dance. "I want to protect those who cannot protect themselves, and I shall devote myself to restoring the gap between our people. But…" This 'but' was going to give him all kind of lectures, especially as he slowed to a halt, and smoothly held her lacy gloved hand in both of his. "… I can admit to a bias. For you… I would do anything."

This was insanity, Minnie thought even as her heartbeat tripled in speed. They had met only twice, yet he was already pledging obedience? She wasn't so great or wonderful to deserve such a pledge, yet there was honesty in his bright green eyes. She had no idea what to do with such a level of devotion, yet couldn't tear herself away from his gaze either. "Why me?"

A snap of fingers signaled the music to stop. The crowd parted once more as the signaler, Duke Fantom, began to walk towards the couple. The Scarlet clicked his tongue to his cheek in annoyance, but he let Minnie go, and faced the Duke who greeted him with a warm smile. "The Scarlet… or, may I be so formal as to call you Monsieur Scarlet?"

The Scarlet respectfully bowed, but he made it quick. "Whichever suits you best, I would think. You know I couldn't resist such a soiree… so, what is it you wanted from me?"

"I would like answers, as would all of France, I would wager." Fantom held out his hands, and murmurs of agreement rippled throughout the room. "While we're grateful for the disposal of those revolutionaries, it's still unsettling to know a man of mystery is in our midst."

"Fake revolutionaries." The Scarlet corrected, holding up a finger. "Those men were hired to weaken the influence the real revolutionaries long for. There are many people, in this very room, who would pay to see such influence stamped out right away. Talk of revolution brings change, and with change comes fear." The murmurs began to die down, and uneasy eyes shifted around.

The edge of Fantom's smile twitched, but it was difficult to notice from far away. "I have yet to hear any proof that they were paid to do anything. I suspect if you had any, you'd hand it over to the police. All you're doing now is sloppily protecting the common folk."

"Common? You mean poor. They're hardly common." He was being baited, and gentle wording from the men in his ears guided him where to lead the talk to. "You want specifics to my cause? Very well." Here his charm ended, and his face took on a serious grimace. "With the way things are heading now, France is about to enter a third Bloody Sunday. I am doing everything in my power to prevent it."

Small gasps hiccupped here and there as the words 'third Bloody Sunday' seized the fear of many nobles. The only one lost to the words was Donald, and he looked around for any help. The Scarlet caught his confusion, and bowed politely in his direction. "My apologies, Donald Duck. You've only been here for a little while, and such history hasn't reached you yet. The Bloody Sundays were two of the deadliest days our country has ever seen." He closed his eyes, and though Ludwig and Gyro were feeding him the information, he personally knew of these dark times. "… Ten years ago, on a Sunday, a fight broke out in the local hospital between a man of lower class and the attending doctors. It escalated into violence as they refused to treat him because of his status. Word spread like wildfire, and soon others like the fighter barged into the hospital, taking out their frustration on anyone they could harm. The poor had reached a breaking point, and with this assault, madness took over… on that day, hundreds of lower class citizens picked up weapons and assaulted the homes of the upper class. Riots were uncontrollable, and many innocent people died before the Queen could send out help to subdue the crowds. We all prayed that such a terrible event would never happen again."

Now he spoke even angrier and one of his hands balled up into a fist. He knew he was supposed to be calm and collected in this persona, but the next chapter of this story was one he had personally experienced. "But those who do not learn from their mistakes are doomed to repeat them. Five years ago, again on a Sunday, a carriage belonging to the Tache Family ran over a poor child in the streets. They claimed it was an accident, but outrage was made all the same. Once again, the breaking point had been reached, and the streets were lit with fire and blood again." Finished, he opened his eyes, and burned his eyes onto Fantome.

The Duke didn't appear to be bothered with his family's history. In fact, he looked bored, and spoke drolly. "We made reparations with the family, and I sincerely doubt my riders will make that kind of mistake ever again. You think we'll so easily hit a third Bloody Sunday?"

"It is with that exact attitude that you shall!" The Scarlet shouted, feeling right in his rising rage. "I am willing to say that what happened with the child was an accident, but each Sunday happened because of how you and men like yourself are so dismissive of those who have less than you. The Tache Bank has a great influence on what drives the prices in stores, on what the taxes are waged upon, and if nothing changes, then a third Bloody Sunday will happen and innocent people will die. Little by little, the anger in the people is building, and I will do what I can to douse the flames of violence. But ultimately, it is you, it is all of you, that must step back and see what you are doing to our beloved France! Is one more party in the year worth more than the life of the man who helped cook the food for it?"

A hush came over the guests, taken aback from his powerful words. While there were plenty who didn't agree with him, it had given the people enough pause and thought to be taken seriously. Minnie was floored, having longed to say such things to her fellow elite but never having such terrifying words to compare with. Daisy was feeling the same rush of understanding, though her face was reddening for different reasons. Fantom let the words hang in the air for an unsettling moment, and then smiled once more. "I think I can see where you are coming from now. I do think you're too paranoid for your own good, but no one can accuse you of having ill intentions. Why, I'll even make a sign of good faith… if you can earn it." He clapped once, and Clarabelle was quickly at his side with the assigned preparations. She held up a soft satin pillow, and on top of it laid a yellow marigold next to a sharpened blade. "This is a party, after all, and I have a duty to entertain my guests. I propose a friendly duel." He picked up the sword, sizing it up in his hands. "I see you brought your blade with you. We'll each tie a corsage to our chest. If you knock mine off, I'll donate a hefty sum to those less fortunate. If I knock yours off, then you surrender yourself to the police." Clarabelle giddily tied the flower onto his chest, happy to be of service.

The Scarlet glanced at a wall clock, and decided he had enough time for this display. "I can see I'd already lose dignity if I didn't. Very well, allow me to prepare." He took Minnie's hand, and walked her back to Donald and Daisy, ensuring she was out of harm's way. He saw the daises, and smiled kindly. "I think these will do nicely… I have always been fond of daises." Missing Daisy's blushing entirely, he laid all his attention to Minnie. "Would you mind…?" Minnie nodded quietly, plucking out one flower from the bouquet, and tying it neatly around one of the Scarlet's buttons. He flashed her a winning grin when she was finished. "Now how can I possibly lose?" That earned him a smile, and that was all he needed to ensure victory as he headed back to the dance floor. Everyone else had left the dance floor, leaving only the Duke and the Scarlet to battle. Since it was just a question of flower knock off, many assumed it would be an airy, friendly battle.

The men bowed to each other respectfully, but in the next second all hopes of friendliness were dashed. They seized into each other as their blades moved back and forth against one another, making violent noises that echoed back and forth across the expansive ballroom. They used up the entire dancing floor in their harsh movements, giving the impression they would only stop when blood was drawn. Yet their faces still kept up facades of friends, smiling brightly as heads were ducked and thrusts were parried. They appeared to be equally matched as no flesh was cut, nor was even a single thread lifted from their clothing. Everyone was entranced by the fight, save for the band, who decided to ramp up the atmosphere by playing fitting action background music.

"You are one man." The Fantom spoke quietly, his words for his enemy only. "And I have power over hundreds. For all your talk of Bloody Sunday, the rich get richer, and the poor stay where they belong. What can one man do?"

"All it takes is one to start things. You can't fool everyone… I know where you really want to be." Their blades pushed hard, trying to force the other back. "You want the power of the Queen. She's never chosen a favorite among the dukes and the duchess, but a third Bloody Sunday would get her attention."

Fantom smiled with frighteningly sharp teeth. "You overestimate just how much the dead are worth. You sing a pretty tune, but no one will listen to the lyrics."

The Scarlet only needed one more movement, and laced it with the right words, thanks to Ludwig. "I know you drove the carriage."

That sentence was enough to make Fantom stop, and with one swift graze, the marigold was on the floor. A sweeping gasp escaped the crowd, and the Scarlet stepped away from his opponent, carefully putting his sword back in its scabbard. "You're right, that was fun." He now spoke loud enough for all to hear, walking away from the Duke. "Though with your vague wording of your end of the deal, I doubt those who need your money will ever see a glimpse of it. It's a bad sign when men don't keep their promises." His fifteen minutes were up, and it was time for him to leave. He drank in all the attention the crowd gave him, pompous as he thought of an exit, but the night wasn't over.

He was so caught up in his own hype he nearly missed Gyro yelling into his ear. "Watch out, he's coming after you!" The Scarlet turned, but not fast enough, and Fantom's sword swiped a deep cut into the Scarlet's left arm. He ground his teeth in pain, clutching his wound and backed up, knowing he had suddenly been tossed into trouble.

"It occurs to me," Fantom held aloft his blade that was now stained ironically scarlet. "That technically, you are a trespasser, which is enough to warrant your arrest." Taking that as their cue, Pete and Horace walked out of the crowd, taking out their guns. The panic on the Scarlet's face was enough to prove this wasn't part of the plan.

"I warned him not to take the bait!" Gyro groaned, trying to adjust the cameras so he could find the right spot for Mickey to leave. "He has to come back immediately!"

"It's time to say hello to the dark ages!" Ludwig cracked his knuckles, and then rapidly typed on the keys in front of him. "Gyro, kill the electricity!"

Pete and Horace had no time to get out their handcuffs before the entire ballroom – the entire mansion – was encased in darkness. All the lights were dead, and terrified shrieks rang about. The Scarlet didn't waste the chance his friends gave him, and fled away from the scene, following the directions being laid into his ears. He didn't notice three other bodies also taking leave, since the pain in his arm was holding a lot of his attention. He only stopped once he had gotten outside and stumbled into the private gardens. Breathing hard, he shook his head hard, the stupidity of his actions adding extra pain. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…" he repeated it over and over for his hidden helpers to hear, switching briefly back to the paperboy personality. "It won't happen again, I swear! I… I thought he'd play fair! Aw, geez…"

He thought his bad luck doubled when he heard the grass being crunched under footsteps nearby. He fumbled for his sword until he realized that the one who had caught up to him wasn't an enemy, but Minnie, of all people. He gaped foolishly for a moment, and then shook his head again to get back into the right persona. "I'm… afraid you haven't caught me at my best moment."

She looked directly at his arm with a frown. "… You can't run around in that condition. Really, what is with men and competition?" She made some 'tsk'ing sounds as she undid the bow from her hair. "If you want to protect the people of France, you should start with yourself." She carefully took his arm, and wrapped her ribbon around the cut. "… It's not much, but I guess you won't be seeing a real doctor."

He didn't know much about medicine, but wondered if love really could be a cure, considering how easily forgotten his pain was now that something that belonged to her was now attached to him. His expression softened even more as he looked down at her, she who was still so beautiful even in the dark of the night. "… Careful, my lady. Didn't I tell you that your kindness would continue to ensnare me?"

"If that's the price I must pay for you to take better care of yourself… then I am willing to pay it." The movement of her lips suggested she was trying not to smile and that it wasn't easy. "If you will do anything for me… then keep your word. Don't let a third Bloody Sunday happen."

"I will keep my word to you." For all the reasons he needed to leave, he could not will himself to follow any of them. He was already in enough trouble, why not take it another step further? Why not do everything the paperboy couldn't? He placed his hand on her shoulder, and with a tilt of his head, leaned in closer, enough to feel her breath on his lips. "For you… I would…"

"Oooh mooonsiiieurrr!" There were only so many things Ludwig and Gyro could prepare Mickey for, and a blonde haired duck tackling him down in a loving and hysterical embrace wasn't one of them. Mickey staggered as he tried to sit up, staring down at Daisy who now had a vice grip on his good arm. "Thank goodness you're all right! I was so worried!"

She nuzzled into his shoulder even as speedy Donald joined the group, trying to tug her off. "Daisy, get off of him! He's a criminal, he's probably covered in germs! And you!" He pointed accusingly at Mickey who had no idea what was transpiring. "Get your mitts off my girl!"

"I'm not your girl!" Daisy allowed the Scarlet to stand, but still refused to let him go. "I'm the Scarlet's girl!"

A very loud "Que?" escaped those around her, the loudest being the Scarlet himself.

Daisy snuggled up to the hero who was trying his best to remove his arm from her. "I thought I felt something special when we first met, but now I know for sure! Telling me you were always fond of daises… I understood you perfectly clear! And I want you know, I love you too!"

Ludwig and Gyro's bursts of laughter weren't helping Mickey's mood any. "I… believe there has been a terrible misunderstanding…" he worriedly looked to Minnie, hoping she wasn't part of the misunderstanding. She merely stood there, taking in the situation with silent questioning.

"This is ridiculous!" Donald finally managed to pry Daisy off of the mouse. "You can't love him! I'm willing to give you everything you could possibly want!"

"And what I want is him!" Daisy put her hands on her hips, ready to argue again. "A man like you could never understand the bond we have! We want to change the world, but you don't want to share the change in your pocket!"

"If he can't handle a little cut, how's he supposed to bring about a revolution? He's just a hopeless wanna-be, but I'm the real deal! What you see is what you get!"

"What I see is a pompous, boorish, idiotic-"

"Pardon." Minnie found herself stopping the argument again. "But… the man you're fighting over is long gone." The ducks looked to where the Scarlet had once stood, and now saw no trace of him, since he had started running the millisecond his arm was free. Donald called him a coward, Daisy kicked him in the shin, and Minnie decided to give up playing cupid for the night. Whatever else happened that night, with the Scarlet or the ducks, she'd had just about enough.

The meeting of the real revolutionaries was that same night at midnight. There was half an hour left to go until the clock struck twelve, but Max was still working on the project he had bragged to Daisy about. He just couldn't leave it alone until every last detail met his high qualifications. Whenever he was in such deep work, he had demanded to be left alone, and usually his father obeyed the demand. But today, Max had been cooped up in his workshop for hours and hours, and it caused his father, comically nicknamed Goofy, great worry. Growing boys needed air and sunshine, even if it was night.

So he quietly snuck into the room, tip toeing so he wouldn't disturb Max's process. His stealth was working, as Max didn't show any sign of noticing his father's presence. Goofy made it to the window and began to swing it open, hoping the fresh air would do his son some good. As for Max, he had finished his job at last with the last screw tucked in, and decided to give it a test drive. In his hands was a mechanical bug, as big as a locust, and when Max pressed a button on its underside, its wings began to flutter. It hovered upward, and then gained speed as it began to dive around the room – and then, to Max's horror and Goofy's surprise, it sped right out of the open window.

"No!" Max shouted in vain, trying to grab his project but it was already out and gone. "No, no, no!" His disappointment didn't last, and he angrily growled at his father who sheepishly closed the window. "Look at what you've done! I've been working on that forever, and now I have to start all over again!"

Goofy shrunk back, fidgeting his hands together. "Aw, I'm real sorry, Max… I just thought ya could use some air…"

"I've told you to never come in here!" Max slammed a hand on his desk, sending spare gears falling onto the floor. "Can't you do anything right?" Goofy tried to offer more apologies, but Max wouldn't hear of them. It was time for the meet up, and he shoved his father aside to leave. Goofy stood there for a long time, not sure if he should help by cleaning out or if he would make things worse by trying. Things hadn't been easy between father and son for many years, and at this rate, it wouldn't get easier soon.

While those of the revolution were wide awake in discussion, those of the rich were fast asleep. But one of them woke up when they heard a strange noise batting at her window. Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, she brushed her orange hair out of her eyes, so she could better see the odd little bug at her windowsill.

End Of Chapter Three.