Why is Lies so awesome as an editor? The world may never know.

The open letter system went into effect a few days after the assault on the Rabbit household. Horace had told the other officers that the Scarlet had been trying to rob Duke Roger, but the frightened noble hadn't been able to give a clear answer anyway. This had little effect on the public, who, upon finding the newest declaration from the Scarlet in the papers about the letter system, were eager to write in. Some wrote about crimes that happened before the Scarlet's arrival, others about the unfair taxation that the Tache bank was enforcing, and there were also some that merely wanted a private way to voice their opinion on one matter or another. It was a system that found no judgment towards the writer, and there was a sense of calm that came over the city, with burdens lifted off their shoulders…

Not to say the system didn't have its problems.

"Fangirl, fangirl, murder this guy, fangirl, invitation to a birthday party…" The Scarlet speedily read through the unimportant ones, tossing them over his shoulder. It was fairly late at night as he rested against a chimney to the steel factory, the garbage disposal of said factory being one of the letter hiding spots. "So part of the city thinks I'm a hired assassin, and another part thinks I'm a mascot. I can't decide which is worse."

"Don't just skim them!" Gyro lectured, keeping an eye on the cameras around the city but still able to listen in on his friend. "We can't risk missing anything important. We've gotten some great information before, there could be a hidden gem in any one of these."

"Oh, relax." The Scarlet huffed as he opened a pink envelope with little precision. "I know what I'm doing… and I don't think we'll find a gem in this one, it's practically a marriage proposal!" He cleared his throat, wanting to share a laugh with his friends as he imitated a prissy female voice. "'My most precious Monsieur Scarlet, I simply can't stop thinking about you. Night and day, no matter what I do, you're always on my mind. Ever since that one magical night, I've known I can't stand the thought of waiting to touch you again…'" He paused in thought. Was it his imagination, or was there something vaguely familiar about this letter? "'Since the night of my rescue, I know my lips must never touch another man's. They, and the rest of my body, belong to you and you alone.'"

"The professor is starting to think about this." Ludwig tapped on one key repeatedly, using the clicking to concentrate. "Have we gone through this before?"

"'My social standing means nothing,'" The Scarlet continued, getting on the same track as Ludwig. "'So long as we can be together. For you, I will make this vow… every midnight, at the Rodawn Theatre, in the dressing rooms, I shall wait for you to have me.'"

Gyro and Ludwig tilted their heads in opposite directions, cupping their chins as they gave this longer thought. "Now," Gyro said first, "What lady have you saved before… there was a kiss… and has a social standing that's of importance…"

The three 'hmm'ed loudly, but it was the mouse who came to the abrupt conclusion first, whipping his head to read the letter again. "Oh my gosh, it's Minnie! I-It has to be Minnie!" He had saved her life more than once, they had kissed, and she was one of the highest when it came to social standing! "And she's saying that she… that she…" He couldn't say it, but he didn't need to, as he was reading it over and over again. His sweet Minnie was making such an offer? His delicate, absolutely beautiful, diminutive Minnie was saying… was wanting… it couldn't be, but there it was, in flowery print."What time is it?"

"Eleven thir-Oooh no!" Gyro grabbed the microphone in both hands while Ludwig used his hands to bury his face in them. "Scarlet, we don't know that's actually the Duchess! Don't you dare head to the theater! You can't risk anything like this! You could get your identity exposed! It could be a trap! You can't let all our hard work go down for a chance to be with… he's stopped listening to me, hasn't he."

"Ever since he first said her name." Ludwig groaned, unable to look, but knowing full well that the boy was running off the roof and heading to the theater as fast as his little legs could take him.

Ludwig slumped back in his seat, feeling defeated. "Do you realize what this means, Ludwig?"

"We're going to lose our PG-13 rating." Ignoring Gyro's absolutely befuddled expression at such a remark, Ludwig reached over to the small pile of letters that they had kept from previous nights. "But if he's not going to listen to us, then we should use our time to see the truth in these." He flipped open a tinted blue letter, and adjusted his spectacles to reread it clearly. "I'm very interested in this one. If it's true, then we need to keep an even closer eye on the revolutionaries. They could be in danger and not even know about it."

Gyro frowned, uncomfortable about 'leaving' Mickey on his own – but if they weren't able to control the boy's feelings before, how could they start now? "I'll keep the microphone on… but I'll start looking into this too. I almost want that letter to be true… for the both of us." He nodded solemnly, and didn't add on to what he knew of why it was so important to Ludwig. He used the typing of keys to adjust the cameras littered throughout the city.

"Let's see if we can find this man." Ludwig held the letter up to the bright computer screens that gave off a soothing light. If it was true, then there was a part of him that would at last know peace. "The man who claims to have accidentally started the First Bloody Sunday."

At the same time in the dead of night, Goofy was heading home from his latest job. He was splattered with fresh white paint and only a few coins jingled in his pocket, but he still hummed in his content way as he went up and down the streets. He was predictably fired from this last opportunity, his clumsiness causing another disaster, but he didn't let it get him down. Someone always needed working hands, and as long as he tried his best, he had nothing to be ashamed of. Every coin counted towards a better life for his son.

When he had arrived at their humble home, he had noticed at once that Max wasn't there. He was worried, given how late it was, and thus headed towards Max's invention shack. Goofy knew he wasn't wanted there, and that he might get an earful from his son about it, but again, he didn't mind. As long as he knew Max was safe, then it was okay for Max to call him a moron and to launch similar hurtful words at him. Goofy knew he wasn't bright. It was what he deserved.

When he arrived at the shack, he wondered whether he should knock or just holler his son's name, but hearing voices inside made him change his mind. He cautiously opened the front door, doing his best not to make a sound, and looked at the two teenagers hunched over Max's small desk. There was a glow coming from a device in Max's hands, though Goofy was too far away to see what it was. Whatever was going on, Roxanne was entranced by the device and Max was enthralled as he spoke, sitting in his chair while she stood behind him. "Roxanne, you're unbelievable! I still can't believe you actually got the bug in there!"

"Did it do any good?" She placed her hand on Max's shoulder to try and see closer. Goofy noted that a female's touch would have normally either displeased Max or made him fumble with speech, but Max continued speaking like the touch was natural. The boy and girl must have gotten very close while the father was away working, and he couldn't be happier for them.

"I've got hours of great footage on this!" Max held up his hands – it looked like a small screen, like a tiny window, but instead of being made of sheer glass, there was an image of a dark office inside. "Your dad's been purposely looking for loopholes in mortgages so the lower class can't pay off their dues in time. He shreds papers whenever they can pay… he gets to pick and choose who he wants to have a home! This entire bank is full of corruption!" For someone talking about nefarious deeds, he sounded over the moon about it. "I don't know how we can use this information yet, but when we can, maybe we bring down that whole bank!" He clenched a fist in victory, but when he glanced beside him to share more joyous news with Roxanne, an uncomfortable side note occurred to him. "… Which… would mean… bringing down your dad."

"… I know." Roxanne smiled sadly, pulling away to wring her hands. "And… I'm a little worried about what will happen to me if that does happen, but… I knew what I was getting into when I joined the group. I know what my dad is. I've always known." She slid her eyes to the screen, watching it replay her father committing crimes against the poor. "He's always wanted the best for me, but because I'm a Shyster, not for me. He cares so much about money and reputation, but not about the people behind them. He hasn't even noticed all these nights I'm gotten out of the house to see you… oh, and, well, the group." She shyly tucked hair behind her ear, her gear earrings glinting in what little light the room contained.

Max's cheeks tinted in a way both teenagers were used to. "… Whatever happens, I'll… um… you know. Take… take care of you... or something." He quickly looked down, embarrassed that his smarts were failing him when it came to speaking of something deeper. "I got you into this mess, anyway."

"Who says a girl can't like messes?" Now both of her hands were on his shoulders, and her eyes contained a gaze that Goofy was familiar with – very similar to the way his late wife would look at him. "… Max… I know we haven't known each other very long, but… I think…"

Unfortunately for everyone involved, Goofy could not last five minutes without his clumsiness making itself known. He had leaned too far in on the rusty old doorknob, and with one last push, it had snapped off in his hand. Without something to balance on, Goofy fell flat forward into the room, and managed to take the entire door down with him, flattening him down even further. The teenagers jumped apart in their shock, and as Goofy tried to stand up, his sheepish grin was met with a harsh glare from his son. "Dad! What have I told you about coming here?"

"Aw, I'm sorry, Max…" Goofy picked up the door, and tried to set it back up against the damaged hinges. "Here, I'll put it back!"

"You're covered in paint!" Max grabbed the door out of Goofy's hands, and set it against a wall. "And you're getting it everywhere!"

"I am?" Goofy turned around sharply to see, which made droplets of paint fly off him in different directions. He instantly realized what he'd done, and backed up, guilt pressing harder and harder into him. "Oops… I was just comin' back from a paintin' job! And I went home, but ya weren't there, so I thought I'd check in on ya, that's all!"

"I don't need to be checked in on! I'm not a child!" Max's rage continued to spiral, forgetting Roxanne was there, and not hearing her try to call his name in an effort to dissuade his anger. "I've told you not to come in here! You always ruin my things, break my things, and now I need to clean up and get a new door! Get out before you wreck something else!" Once again, Goofy had ruined something Max was working on, this time being a sweet moment with Roxanne. It was like his father couldn't resist pouncing on the urge to keep Max unhappy! How could such a bright boy come from some an idiotic man!

Goofy gave one last try to be heard, peacefully keeping still to avoid bringing any more destruction to his son's precious place. "Can I at least know what time yer gunna be home? Ya need ta get some sleep, all these long hours can't be good fer ya…"

"It's none of your business how long I'm here! Get out already!" The way Max was standing was almost enough to indicate he was prepared to strike his father, if given enough incentive. A choking silence was felt in the shack, and Goofy took his time as he dragged one foot behind the other, letting himself out. When Max was sure that his father was no longer close enough to be a nuisance, he returned his attention to Roxanne, but to his surprise, she looked distraught. "What?"

"… Was that really necessary?" She stepped out from the corner she'd stuck to during the 'talk' between family members. "He really looked like he was just trying to help…"

"Roxanne, don't even try to take his side!" Max grabbed the back of his seat and sat back down, crossing his arms. "Every time he's ever tried to help me, he's always made things worse! I'd be much better off if he never cared! It's because of him that I'm behind on all of my work!"

Roxanne pushed her lips together, not liking this tone in him. "I think you're being kind of harsh."

"It's true!" Max put the device back on the table, and began to pull blueprints out from under the desk. "I had hundreds of these, I had so many ground-breaking ideas… cloth that could take bullets, high powered magnets, small chips that allowed for long distance communication, all of them could have changed France as we know it. But then my dad got in here, he took every single one of my blueprints, and he sent them to the school that Gyro Gearloose and Ludwig Von Drake were making. He never even asked if he could look at them! When that building exploded, all of my stuff was gone, and I had to start from scratch!" He pounded the desk with a fist, grinding his teeth as he remembered his father's pathetic apology after the fact. "And he doesn't even have any pride or self-respect! He never tries to better himself or go for better jobs… he just takes whatever is tossed his way! He doesn't want our lives to change, he'd rather we be poor forever! I don't care if he wants to ruin his own life, but I want him to stay out of mine!"

If he expected Roxanne to agree with him, he was to be sorely disappointed. Her nose was scrunched up in disgust, not welcoming this ugly side of her friend. What right did he have to complain about a loving father, when hers was so terrible? "… I think I'll go home now, Max. I'll see you later." Max turned around, and made a feeble attempt to make her stay, but she was walking away without a look behind her. Max moaned, and planted his forehead on his desk. Yet another thing his father had ruined. This was surely Goofy's fault, and Goofy's fault alone.

But now that he had no one to yell at or impress, he felt vastly uncomfortable with how the night had progressed. If it wasn't Max's fault, then why did he feel so bad? With a grunt, he turned the device off, and was left to his own aggravation.

Now no one was saying that when a young man is presented with a chance to enjoy pleasures of the flesh with the one he loves he loses all sense of reasoning and common sense. Mickey knew there were complications and implications that a night like this would entail, and the results could land both he and the duchess in danger. Then there was the emotional impact, that perhaps she really did love the Scarlet and not the paperboy. If anyone found out about this night or her letter, they'd know his weakness and surely put Minnie in danger. There was the chance she'd guess his identity and therefore destroy their trust and friendship forever. There were a million and one reasons not to go to the theater.

The problem was that the one good reason to go -'I get to kiss Minnie again!' –was being voiced much, much, MUCH louder in his head. He'd think of all those terrible dangers later, so he told himself as he hopped through the open window of the empty theater. The place was abandoned for the night, and he easily enough found the hallway where the dressing rooms were. Ludwig and Gyro needed to have more faith in him, he thought as he applied stolen cologne. He'd simply tell her that as much as he'd really, really, REALLY want to help her, he had a duty to uphold, and for her own safety, he would have to decline her very generous offer. If it took several kisses to get this point across, then he would just have to man up and accept the responsibility.

He found the one dressing room with light shining out from under the closed doorway. He'd show his smart friends – he could turn her down, sure he could! The fact that he was grinning like a maniac and there was a bit of drool hanging off his lip, that was just… there was a logical… oh, what was he waiting for? He swung the door open, and saw that the dressing room contained a small decorated screen for actors to change behind. He could only make out a bare silhouette that had begun to sit up when he entered. He inhaled and exhaled deeply, letting his Scarlet persona fully take over. The Scarlet was a suave charmer under the moon's glow, and if that's what Minnie wanted, then he'd give her that wish. He walked carefully to the screen, unable to think of what to say, but was sure words would come to him when he witnessed her beauty once more. He walked to the other side of the screen, where he saw a small, lovely, black furred…

… cat.

Katarina sat up on a stitched leather couch, letting her new red dress show off her legs as she ran her hands down her arms, every inch the perfect alluring goddess. "I knew you would come for me, my love, even knowing how poor I am." What a fool this man was! This job her uncle assigned her had to be the easiest one yet. A noted womanizer like The Scarlet would be helpless against her. She closed her eyes, cooing softly, slowly reaching behind her to feel the knife she was hiding in the couch. Once he had given in to his basic instincts, he'd be dead before dawn. "Please, be gentle, Scarlet…" She waited, but didn't feel a thing. "… You don't have to be that gentle." She opened one eye, but the Scarlet wasn't at the screen anymore. "Darling?"

"Good night." That came from the doorway, sounding completely and utterly disappointed. He dug a finger in one ear, muttering "Stop laughing!" to no one she could see.

"Hey!" Katarina jumped off the couch, and knocked the screen over, insulted at once. "Do you even remember what I invited you up here for?"

"No thanks." He even sounded – dare she think it – bored! Had he not batted an eye at her luscious figure? The man who had declared his love for all the women in France was turning her down?

"I'm the most beautiful woman in this entire wretched city, you ingrate!" She shouted, beginning to storm after him. "You get over here and make yourself a man! Do you want me to tell everyone that you're a coward?"

The Scarlet began to pick up the pace in his walking. "I'm actually very okay with that." He was never going to hear the end of this from Ludwig, Gyro, and his own conscience.

"How dare you insult me like this!" Katarina had been promised by Pete that the Scarlet wouldn't be able to resist her! She began to run, furious that a man who had to hide his own face wouldn't look at her gorgeous features. "I didn't waste all my money on this dress for a cold shoulder! Make me your most precious!"

The Scarlet broke into a sprint, not wanting to hurt Katarina with his array of weapons, but she wasn't giving up so easily. The mad duo began to run all over the theater, Katarina's actual mission forgotten under her indignation. Disgusted at the thought of kissing or touching anyone than his beloved duchess, The Scarlet spoke rapidly into his chest, hoping that his microphone would still pick up sound despite how fast he was going. "I would really love an escape route, you two!"

"And you know what we would love, Scarlet?" Ludwig's smarmy smirk could practically be heard through every word.

"Not to be ignored whenever we tell you not do something." Gyro finished, the two of them having come to a decision that their friend could use a lesson in controlling his baser instincts.

"Is now really the best time to hold a grudge?" But he had no time to get back a sarcastic answer, as Katarina was hot on his tail – quite literally, as she'd tried to snatch his thin tail in her grubby fingers. The Scarlet yelped in a probably less than heroic manner, finding the same open window he came from, and taking a leap. As he landed, he looked behind him, and hoped that the legend of cats always landing on their feet wasn't true.

It was. "I'm not leaving without at least a kiss!"

He was off like a bullet.

The party that the Scarlet had declined his invitation to come finally ended, and Minnie yawned in her carriage as she left it. Why was she always invited to these things, when no one wanted to hear what she had to say? She had tried to speak up about the plights of the poor and how every donation couldn't hurt, but people preferred to talk about her rejection of Mortimer. It was difficult for the wealthy citizens to grasp why she wouldn't want to marry into fellow wealth. The only one who had agreed was Donald Duck, and they were left alone to talk about their mutual friendships with other lower class people.

Maybe she should introduce Donald and Mickey, she thought as the carriage rode on. Donald was friendly, and when he talked about his family and friends, he almost became a different duck entirely. It was also fairly obvious what his feelings for Daisy were whenever he spoke of her. If he, the heir to one of the wealthiest men in France, could be romantically involved with a commoner, then maybe, just maybe…

The carriage began to slow down, whisking Minnie away from her 'ifs'. She sat up straighter, and tapped on the door. "Driver? Is there a problem?" Instead of hearing from him, she heard two different voices.

"You will make me your most precious and you will like it!"

"I most sincerely doubt it, madam!"

Against her butter judgment, Minnie began to open the door to see the commotion as the carriage stopped. She stuck her head out in time to see Katarina tackle the Scarlet down onto his back, grabbing him by his head to keep him in place. "I've never had a man reject me in my entire life, and no fluffy little mouse is going to be the first! So pucker up, honey!"

Moments like this were when the Scarlet was supposed to show what a gentleman he was, as opposed to the lack of manners the urchin Mickey had. But in that moment of sheer panic, in that idea that he would actually be kissing someone other than Minnie, his personas went through a spontaneous switch. Katarina planted her face down, but only kissed his palm, as Mickey had stuck his hand directly up in a desperate attempt to avoid the smooch. "I don't wanna! I don't wanna!" For that one drastic and crucial moment, he wasn't the Scarlet! "I… I… I don't wanna kiss anyone but Minnie!"

"What?" shouted the driver.

"What?" shouted Minnie.

"What?" shouted Ludwig and Gyro together.

"Mmmf?" shouted Katarina.

Blood drained from Mickey's face as he understood in that moment what came from his mouth. Panic taking hold of every nerve, he grabbed Katarina by her arms and flipped her over his head, breaking into a run once he stood up. This time, Katarina was far too stunned to continue the literal game of cat and mouse. 'Wanna'? The sophisticated vigilante had said 'wanna'?

Minnie slammed her door shut, and the driver, getting the signal, snapped the reigns to resume the horses' movement. Unlike everyone else who had heard it, she had focused more on the 'kiss Minnie' part than the 'wanna' part, with good reason. Yet she understood perfectly well the same thing as everyone else who heard it – that for one brief moment, the Scarlet wasn't the Scarlet, and whoever was under the hat and masked eyes had partially given himself away. Which led to the obvious question…

If the Scarlet wasn't the Scarlet… then who was he?

Daisy had woken up extra early that morning to look over the stolen paper again. Her tiny spout of hair was twirled up to get it out of the way, more practical for the poor in fashion and literal sense. She hadn't shown the other revolutionaries this paper or the information surrounding it yet as she wanted to come to them with real answers. Yet day after day she had looked at the three names and the three numbers and couldn't decipher which was the one that would open the vault. Brigitta, Magica, and Goldie had their own close connections to Scrooge, and it was difficult to tell who was the most important out of the trio. Brigitta was lovingly devoted, Magica was the most beautiful, but Goldie had known him the longest. Which among these was the most important?

She almost welcomed the knock that came to the door. She was renting the tiny house with falling apart furniture, and if this robbery wasn't successful, she'd be kicked out within the month. Figuring maybe it was her landlord, that miserable Shyster, coming to hound her for early rent, she stuffed the paper down her dress to hide it and went for the door. It wasn't a greedy older dog that had come to her door, but Donald in his usual attire of smiles and sunshine. She hadn't noticed that she smiled to see it was him. "What're you doing here?"

"Sorry to barge in on you like this, but… well, I can't have you over for a few days." He awkwardly shrugged his shoulders, not noticing the strange wrinkle in her stitched dress. "My uncle says he's lost a paper in his office, and he's not letting any strangers in the house until he finds it. Honestly, one piece of paper, and he flips out!" He would have started laughing if Daisy didn't look so terrified. "I'm sure he'll find it or give up… he's getting old. I bet it's stuffed away in the first place he looked."

"I-I'm sure that's it." Daisy smoothed down her dress, wincing as she heard the paper crinkle, but Donald didn't take notice. "Is… um, is that all?"

"… As long as I have you here… I…" His hands moved about, unsure what to do with them or where to place them as he did his best to articulate. "… I wanted to… apologize. For how we started off."

Daisy stared- no, no, no, stop right there, stop being nice!

"I know I came on … pretty strongly." He paused, and each sentence was another delightful dagger into Daisy's heart. "… Really strongly. I think I was kind of a jerk. I thought as long as I had money and my Uncle, I could have whoever I wanted, but that's not how you should treat anyone rich or poor. Now that we've been friends for so long… you've really taught me how to treat people. So, huh! I guess what I'm saying is, I'm sorry, and thanks." He stuck out his hand to shake, and she took it with hesitation, finding it difficult to meet his eyes. Much like the book before, her dress was feeling as heavy as lead. "I'll get out of your feathers, then." He tipped his hat to her, and turned to go as he released her hand.

She should have left it at that, she knew it, and yet her mouth took over her head. "… Donald?" He glanced back at her, and she held herself tightly, slowly lifting her eyes. "… Does this mean… you don't… want me as your girlfriend… anymore?"

The dark red his cheeks became was more than enough to answer her, but the nervous cough and his stuttering also helped. "Uh! W-well… it d-doesn't matter that much, right? You love the Scarlet."

"I do?" When was the last time she actually gave thought to the Scarlet as a lover, and not as an aid to her plans? She had spoken of him in a less and less enthusiastic matter every time he was brought up. Had she fallen out of love with him so quickly? Or… had that ever been love at all? "… You know… I've never been in love before." She didn't know why she said it out loud, but it was oddly comforting. "What do you suppose it was?"

"… Maybe it was just a crush." He shrugged one shoulder, and then resumed his walk away from her. He couldn't blame her for being confused or feeling different. He'd initially gone after her in a similar manner as she had for the Scarlet – the both of them pursuing what they assumed to be their one true love, expecting fairy dust and miracles to line at their feet to bring them together. But when did love ever work that way? They had jumped into it headfirst without looking, desperate to have a trophy at their side, to say 'look at me, look what I was able to make love me!' But where Donald had set aside that goal to pursue something more worthwhile, Daisy clung onto it until she forgot why she had tried in the first place.

Daisy watched him leave, thinking about all that had transpired since she first 'met' the Scarlet. Back then, she assumed anyone with more coins than they needed were evil creatures, and that she was the most righteous woman to ever walk the city's streets. She had taken everyone around for her granted, even her dearest friends, in her attempt to make a man whose name she didn't even know her beau. Hadn't the Scarlet said messages, in his heroics and declarations, that he wanted to help everyone – that included the rich. He knew, before Daisy had known, that the poor weren't all angels, and that the rich weren't all devils. She took out the stolen paper and held it firmly in her hands. Donald hadn't been the terrible one. She was, all along.

She held the top of the paper, and began to rip it down the middle, when a cold hand grabbed her shoulder. She shrieked, and looked to her left to see Duke Gladstone Gander towering over her. "Ma cherie. May we have a word?"

"I thought I made myself perfectly clear last time!" She crumpled the paper up, and wrangled herself out of his grip, going to her door. "Have all the words you want, I don't want any!" She opened the door, but when she went to close it, Gladstone's hand lashed out, digging into her wrist.

"I think you'll want to hear me on this." He made his way inside, closing the door behind him but never letting go of her. "Duke Fantome gave me one job to do, and I'm not stupid enough to fail him. But now he's given me some extra help. You see, ma cherie, I'm very accustomed to getting what I want. Luck has always played in my favor." Daisy tried to pull her arm away, but Gladstone was frighteningly strong, and her legs shook as he held her even fiercer. "I always win. I always succeed. And now it's time for you to learn that. If you don't what I want… if you don't give me what I want… I will expose you and all of your friends in the revolution."

Daisy sank to her knees, fear taking away her ability to stand. "W-what… what are you talking about?" He was bluffing. He had to be bluffing, but how would he have even guessed what she was a part of?

"Max Geef." Seeing the horror dawn in her eyes was exquisite. What better revenge for the woman who had dared to try and change his luck? "Roxanne Shyster. Peg, Katarina, shall I go on, or do you understand now?"

Daisy's beak hung open, wanting to ask how he found out, but also knew the danger of admitting anything. If there was a devil to be found anywhere in France, it was holding her now, overpowering her now.

"Duke Fantome, Roger, and I will expose them to the Queen and label all of them as traitors!" He shook her arm, tempted to twist the bones under his grasp. "They'll be under the guillotine before sundown for crimes against the crown!"

"Stop, stop, stop!" Daisy grabbed at his green cloak, hot tears rolling down her feathered cheeks. "What is it you want? I'll do anything, just don't expose them! Please!"

Now this was where the commoners belonged. On their knees, begging pitifully, the ultimate proof of their dirty existence. He threw her arm away, watching her collapse to the ground in sadistic enjoyment. "I'm going to stop the revolution by taking away its leader. Fantome will praise me, the Queen will praise me, all of France will praise me! You will be my bride!"

Daisy gasped, and wanted to object, wanted to scream, wanted to run into the street to get Donald's help, but instead she sat on the floor, continuing to cry, and then she hung her head, tearfully agreeing to the sinful contract. What more could she do? She had wanted to get close to what she thought was the greediest and evilest heart in all of France, and now she had.

Something flickered In Gladstone's green pocket.

The same flicker occurred on the screens in Fantome's basement, where Fou groaned as he leaned against the chains keeping him there. He couldn't care less about what was happening before them, with the hidden camera capturing Daisy's sobs. He thought he was the one who deserved tears, bound as he was to this place for the rest of his short life.

The other man in the room disagreed, finding brilliance in what he was allowed to see. Mortimer was still suffering from a cracked rib due to his failure at the Roger assassination, and the Fantome had made it obvious how displeased he was by making only internal injuries. Mortimer was able to ignore the pain for now, as his giant teeth grinned in inspiration. "You know… that's not a bad idea."

End of Chapter Eleven.