Lies is ready for the upcoming climax, but are you?

Donald's confidence had bloomed alongside the spring flowers that were popping up in the parks. This stirring of self-reliance was contagious, as since the day after the 'wedding', it was becoming common place for women to start speaking up at the frivolous parties the rich were still holding. The Duchess was thrilled to discover like minds, now that women were finding bravery to speak about issues they were passionate about. Scrooge's trio of girlfriends had turned on him, deciding that if he wasn't going to choose then they would find other endeavors worth pursuing. Scrooge, so stunned that he was being left alone by his stalkers, began incessantly calling them up and trying to re-earn their affections. This was one such night in which Scrooge was invested in his women, allowing Donald to slip out of the mansion without his uncle's notice.

He didn't take a carriage to the Arc de Triomphe as per his given instructions, and walked with exhaustion to the monument. As he approached the stone monument, he paused in puzzlement. How was anyone supposed to be in there? He pressed his hands against the flat wall, and felt nothing to indicate there had ever been any disturbance. He continued feeling around, until a fluttery red cape flopped onto his head. Startled, he pushed it off, and quacked in a cry as he saw The Scarlet standing on the wall a few inches above him, defying gravity with an amused smirk. "Right on time."

"H… How do you even do that?" Donald tried to touch the Scarlet's boots, but his hand was yanked up, and the vigilante began to effortlessly drag him upwards, heading for the very top of the monument.

"Magnets in the boots." He replied as Donald dangled below him, trying not to laugh at Donald's incredulous fright. "The first layer of the Arc is still stone, but the inside has been replaced with metal… along with a lot of other things." At the top, he pressed his hand to the flat surface, inexplicably finding soft spots to touch on. Donald cried out again as he saw a circular section of stone begin shifting over, revealing a gaping hole that led downward. "Alley-oop." That was the only warning the Scarlet gave before pushing Donald down into the elevator, and hopped along inside him, with the stone circle fitting itself back in place like nothing had happened.

Donald was angry once he found solid ground to put his footing on, and when the Scarlet landed gracefully beside him, only the shock of seeing glowing electric lights around them prevented Donald from giving his new friend a punch to the jaw. "Are we really inside the Arc? What is all this? How does no one know about this?"

"All of your questions will get answers. I promised you, didn't I?" The Scarlet began to remove the chip from his tongue, seeing little use in being his other self in this safe place. "I know it's gunna be a lot ta take in, but ya gotta remain calm no matter what, ya hear?"

"Sure thing!" Donald proudly pounded a fist to his chest. "I can be the coolest cucumber in the cooler! Just watch me." The glass doors almost seemed to have heard him as they then opened up, revealing the gigantic interior of the laboratory where the Scarlet and his friends protected their fair city. He sucked in a gasp as he slowly walked out, unable to believe the numerous tables with various experiments, the long tubes filled prototypes of Scarlet outfits, the dozens of lit up screens showing different parts of the city, and then there came the case of the two men getting out of their seats. He instantly recognized them as Ludwig Von Drake and Gyro Gearloose, the men from Scrooge's old photo album, and more important, being told they were dead. "GHOSTS!" He screamed, ducking behind Mickey to hide from their spooky wrath. "You didn't tell me you were working with ghosts!"

"I only asked ya ta do one thing…" Mickey grumbled, taking off his red goggles and stepping out of the duty as guard. "They ain't ghosts!"

"The boy is correct! The professor is no ghost!" Ludwig stretched out his fingers, curling them up like claws to have some fun poking at his nephew's fears. "We are… zombies! Vampire zombies! We drink the blood, we eat the brains, and use the leftovers to make nifty handbags!" His attempt at an evil laugh was met with deadpan expressions.

"What he means is…" Gyro cleared his throat, ready to put things in the right direction. "We're not dead, Donald. We never were. We faked our deaths in order to help put our plans forward without anyone suspecting us… but that's kind of getting ahead of ourselves. If you want to know the whole truth, this all really started ten years ago, at the First Bloody Sunday."

While Mickey went to change outfits, Donald scratched his head as he remembered more of his uncle's lessons. "That was when the poor went nuts and attacked everyone in sight… right? It was a huge riot, and… you were both still alive." It wasn't that easy to accept two dead men as never having been dead, and Gyro eased Donald into one of their seats to cope with the endless shocks.

Ludwig took over for the next part of the story. "Before it happened, Gyro and I were the highest in our fields of chemistry, mechanics, technology, you name it, we mastered it. With help from Duke Fou Medecin, we were able to bring advancements that no one could have ever dreamed. But we were focused so much on helping our class, and never thought about those who would be producing our products in the mill, those who would clean up after our messes… then came that terrible Sunday." His enthusiasm notably dropped, but when Gyro stepped over, offering to take over, Gyro held up a hand, silencing him, and continued on. "… Scrooge never did approve of my marriage to Matilda, but he didn't stop it, either. He was just playing the role of a good brother, wanting to look after his remaining sister, since Hortense wouldn't leave the countryside in order to take care of you and your sister. The years I had with Matilda were my happiest… and I definitely took them for granted, what with how much time I spent in the labs with the other men."

Even Mickey had started paying attention at this point, midway through his transformation. "Things between the classes were tough, and hatred was spewing from both sides. Then one day, that Sunday, a man of the lower class burst into a hospital, wanting a doctor to come see his wife who was ill and on her deathbed. But he couldn't afford any of them, and none of them would listen to him. He caused a fight in the hospital, and like that…" Ludwig snapped his fingers, creating a chill for his small audience. "The dam burst. The tension shook the entire city, and the other penniless citizens began to fight, to pillage, and to attack anyone they saw as a member of the higher class. Even innocents who had nothing to do with class war were attacked. That included my dear Matilda." He closed his eyes momentarily, reliving the horrific day. "She and I were trying to get to Scrooge's place in order to get away from the madness, but a group stopped our carriage and turned it over. When we climbed out, we were shot at like wild animals, and Matilda…"

Donald reeled in silence, and then took a quick look around in case Matilda decided to reveal she too had only been faking it. The seconds ticking by proved him wrong, as did the inherent sadness of the older men. Ludwig put on a brave smile, willing to accept the sympathetic stares. "… Scrooge never forgave me for what happened. That's when he started cutting off all ties to any family, and his heart closed up." Even now, he could still hear Scrooge screaming at her funeral, saying it should have been Ludwig who was killed, before collapsing into despairing sobs besides his butler. "I don't blame him for how he reacted… he was probably happy to hear about my 'death'."

"Th-that's not true!" Donald interrupted, worriedly trying to take Ludwig's hand. "When I tried to learn about you, he was still upset! I know it!" Ludwig sighed wistfully, not sure if he believed it but appreciating the thought nonetheless.

Gyro came up from behind Ludwig, willing to take the next step whether it was wanted or not. "It opened our eyes to the real problems of the city. We knew things had to change, or history would repeat itself. Over the years, we began placing cameras in different parts of the city under the guise of promoting our future school. While the school was being built, we were secretly creating new devices and technology but not sharing it with the public, and we devised an underground tunnel from the school's foundation site to under this very arc." He tapped on the steel floor below with both feet. "We dug deep under the Arc and then went inside from the ground up, carving it out to build our headquarters. Our idea was that if France wouldn't change on its own, then it needed a leader to inspire that change."

Mickey leaned on Donald's chair, joining in the story as the paperboy. "A detective, a crime fighter, and someone ta give people ideas. Sometimes all it takes is one person ta speak up, and then everyone else can get the right idea. My job's ta stop the tension between the classes by any means."

Donald sat up in his seat, impressed but still having doubts. "Now how do you figure into this? And for that matter, how does Duke Tache factor in? You told me he was the reason Gladstone was marrying Daisy."

Ludwig smoothed down his coat, ready to become the eager and energetic professor once more. "It's all connected, Donald. Five years ago, we had the ideas and concepts for The Scarlet, but we were still having trouble picking someone to play the part. Someone no one would suspect, someone who nobody would miss if he vanished. Then the Second Bloody Sunday happened… this time, it was caused by Duke Tache Fantome himself, when his carriage ran over a homeless child."

"Now that can't be true!" Donald pulled himself out of the seat, latching onto this section before the story could finish. "Even if he is a Duke, and even if it was an accident, that guy killing a kid would have made the news! It would have made history, and he'd be spending his last years in jail!"

"We wouldn't have believed it either," Gyro headed towards the tables, gathering long rolled up papers that would be necessary for later parts of the tale. "But we heard it straight from Duke Fou's mouth a few weeks after the riots settled down. Fantome had switched clothes with his driver's, and so nobody paid him a second look. Fou only found out because he happened to find the driver's clothes in Fantome's closet… he had probably kept them as a memento of the event." His tone was bitter as the subject was breached, hinting to darker implications.

"Let me ask you, Donald…" Ludwig pressed his fingers together, keeping his own emotions in check. "Why would a rich and powerful man like Fantome want to be a driver for a day? Given his mistreatment and utter lack of care for the lower class, he wasn't doing it for fun."

Donald carefully gauged the looks of each companion in the room, and his stomach dropped as he saw the same conclusion from each one. "… No, you're… you're not saying… it wasn't an accident?"

Gyro headed back to the group, his arms fumbling with various documents and papers. "Fou only told us because he hates all animals, and thought he could one day expect us to use it against Fantome. Ludwig and I realized that Fantome had most likely gone out as his driver to find incentive to get another riot going… we can't say for sure if he meant to kill anyone, but he's never expressed any remorse. We're not even entirely sure why he wanted the riot to happen, or why he wants to happen again, but we knew we had to stop him at any cost."

"My turn!" Mickey piped out, and turned Donald's chair to so he could be the center of attention. "They found me on the Second Bloody Sunday. See, I was out deliverin' papers, I didn't even know 'bout that poor kid. Then, all at once, I heard people screamin'!" He moved his arms about, trying to recapture the violent chaos of that day. "People were goin' up and down the streets, throwin' rocks at windows, stealin' from stores, startin' fires, and they went on and on about everyone rich should be…" He drew a finger across his neck, getting the point across. "I got outta there real fast, but everywhere I went, people were losin' their minds. Then I got real worried about my friend, Duchess Minnie -" It was here that Donald's skepticism was obvious, and Mickey huffed in return. "She is my friend! We've been friends since we were kids! Best friends! I mean it! A-Anyway!" He kept a pout away as he tried again. "I was worried about her, cause I was wonderin' if those loons were gunna go after her next… but before I could get ta the gates, I fell inta a whole mob of people. People were hittin' each other, and when I tried ta get people away from the gates, they turned on me, and…" He shrugged one shoulder. "… Don't remember much after that. Beat me so bad I got knocked out."

Donald paid attention to Mickey's version of events, but he couldn't help but notice Ludwig and Gyro's discomfort at the corner of his eyes. Mickey was oblivious, as he was wrapped up in insisting that Minnie was his friend and 'had been for decades and was the best kind of friend a guy could ask for and he was not blushing because shut up that's why'. Donald couldn't pinpoint the reason toward the elders shifting of shoulders or eye dodging, but something was definitely up. "When I woke up, " Mickey went on, "I was in Ludwig's house. He and Gyro had found me, and fixed me up. That's when they offered me the chance ta be a big hero! A little guy like me, a poor paperboy, ya see plenty of us every day, and nobody would blink if one of us was gone!" He grinned in victory, pumping one of his arms to be impressive. "They taught me how ta fight, how ta use a sword and gun, how ta speak fancy, and even how ta sleep fer only a few hours a day!"

"And even better," Ludwig joined in rather hastily, grabbing a newspaper from Gyro's pile and causing the taller bird to spill everything onto the floor. "A newspaper is the perfect way to spread information. So little by little, we began creating our own newspaper, blending it in with the rest. Then, when we found the time was right, we set the school to go kaboom! While everyone thought we were dead, we were using our tunnels to head for our new life in the Arc."

"The school idea was supposed to only be a ruse, but we really lucked out." Gyro gave up on picking up the papers, and instead spread out one of the various blueprints on the floor. "A man named George Geef sent us his son's ideas, and they were perfect to use for the Scarlet. We didn't like to have to steal them when we 'died', but we had to grab any chance we could."

They allowed Donald a moment to breathe and let everything sink in. Donald felt his head might pop from the vast amounts of information, but there were still parts to pick at. "You guys really thought of everything, but… it's all so big! How did no one notice all of that construction work, or the newspaper change? Surely someone must have noticed… something!"

"We'd be surprised if no one did." Mickey admitted, shrugging again offhandedly. "But, well… it's what the Scarlet is supposed ta be. Everyone in this city is too afraid ta speak up about what they see. No one wants ta be the one ta get in front and point out somethin's fishy, in case they're wrong. If no one speaks up, nothin' changes. People need ta get over their fears if they want ta be heard. Ain't easy, but that's what I'm here fer."

"And you've also got another assignment." Gyro picked up a blue tinted letter from the pile of papers on the floor, and stuck it in Mickey's hands. "Given that the Duke and his cronies already went after Daisy, they might hit the other members of the revolution. That includes George's son, Max. See if you can find out where this letter originated from and learn what you can about what happened to both of them. It seems they went missing this morning. Then get some rest."

"On it." Mickey gave a salute after he stuffed the letter into his raggedy overalls. "C'mon, Donald, let's get ya home before yer old man loses more feathers." He bounded for the elevator, expecting the duck to be right behind him. But when the glass doors closed, he found himself alone as he forcibly left.

Donald slowly gout of his seat and crossed his arms. "What is it that you two are hiding from Mickey?" The elder birds froze, but Donald didn't show them any mercy. "That kid's saved Daisy and who knows how many others, and he risks his life every single night to prevent this city from turning into a bloodbath. You've got some nerve keeping a secret from him!"

Gyro couldn't swallow the lump in his throat, but Ludwig also left his seat, partially amused but also wearing the same sad look from earlier. "You really are my nephew… very well. What we're about to tell you, you can't tell Mickey. Our mission depends on this." Donald 'hmph'ed, not agreeing to anything, and Ludwig couldn't fault him for it. "… As we said, we needed someone no one would miss if they vanished. But it also needs to work the other way around. Mickey can't have any attachments, or they'll be used as a weakness."

Gyro sat on the floor, not wanting to face Donald after having been caught. "Mickey was beaten badly enough on the Second Bloody Sunday that he doesn't remember what really happened. What he told you is what we told him. We did find him… but we weren't the first to find him. That was the Duchess."

"Tragic little dear." Ludwig took off his spectacles, and instead of seeing himself reflected in the glass, went back in time once more to the streets filled with sobs and panic. "Gyro and I had gone out to tend to the wounded. We came upon her gates, and saw her standing over Mickey, beaten to a pulp. She thought he was dead, and had found a knife from the scuffle. Had we not stopped her and found Mickey's pulse, she would have ended her life right there. When we told her he was still alive, she threw herself at our feet." He felt it was best to leave out the worst details, such as how she had clung to their clothing, begging erratically, almost unintelligible in her wails.

Please, save him! I'll give you whatever you want, just please, save him! I need him more than anything else in this world! Save him!

Donald still didn't like that such a heavy secret was being held back, but he rubbed his arms in the coldness of the sad situation. "… No wonder you didn't tell him. He'd never agree to try and detach from her if he found out."

"Seems almost pointless now." Ludwig twirled his spectacles around his fingers, genuinely speaking fondly. "We've been trying everything to separate them, but they keep coming back together. It'll take something bigger than us to keep them apart. But as long as we have you… Gyro?"

"Right." Gyro stood back up, digging out something from his pocket. "We figured as long as you knew about us, you may as well be of help. Here." He dropped a small black and blue pin into Donald's hands, baring the insignia of the McDuck family. "It's our latest hidden microphone. We'll be able to talk back and forth with you, but only you should be able to hear us."

Donald held it up to the lights to get a better look. "Not bad." He then fixed it onto his chest, his temper easing at the thought of being some use to his friends – oh, wow, that was true, wasn't it? By becoming a part of this mission, he had a new array of friends! And family! It felt improper to smile, given all he had learned, but a crack of one appeared in his beak. "I'll tell Mickey I wanted to look around more, he's probably wondering what's taking me so long." He headed for the elevator, but there was one last interruption for the night.

"Nephew." Ludwig caught Donald's attention, putting his spectacles back on to capture the full image of his relative. "You've grown into a fine man."

Donald lost the battle to keep his smile hidden.

It was going to be a long night for the entire city. Minnie was getting ready for bed, but she didn't feel tired at all. While it was a relief to have women of the city standing up for themselves, the Scarlet's declaration during the wedding had given her a lot to think about. He had said women weren't trophies, and that they should be valued for more than their beauty and a kiss. She remembered how, when the Scarlet had saved her from those petty robbers, all she could think of as a way to reward him was a kiss. It had been her duty as a woman.

It had also been wrong. She walked down her hallway towards her bedroom, firmly set in her belief. A person's body was not something to give away as a prize. He had told her a reward was unnecessary but she had persisted, because for a woman not to thank a man was unthinkable. Aside from having given away her first kiss to him, she was upset that for all her protests about change in France, she had been firmly set in society's ways. No wonder she been so bothered about it! She hadn't been able to put it in words before, but now she had a novel's length of reasons why no one should feel an obligation to give their body for gratitude. It was only right that the one who had given her this stress had explained why it was so stressful to. He was annoying and kind of terrific that way, that rascally Scarlet. But it would be a thing of the past now. She wouldn't give into womanly obligations anymore, no matter what anyone did for her. Being born a woman did not mean she was born a commodity.

"My lady?" Minnie slowed down as she was called, and Mrs. Potts joined her out in the hallway. "I've gotten word from the Lord and Lady…" Minnie's parents, as their titles were deemed. She could already guess where this conversation was going but allowed it anyway. "The Lord and Lady send their deepest apologies for not being able to attend to you on your birthday." The maid bowed humbly, trying to make up for the absence of her employers. "They had urgent business to attend to, and they have sworn to send the best - "

"I know, I know." Minnie cut in, more amused than angry, as she walked down they approached her bedroom door. "They have sworn to send the best gift money can buy, and absolutely promise next year they will be home to celebrate it properly." She had many of their excuses memorized, and what once used to send her to tears was now just a blip on the radar. "I was thinking of going to bed early anyway."

The maid followed her loyally, now up straight. "You've grown into a very mature young woman, my lady, and so fast..."

"Mummy and Daddy helped." It was difficult to tell whether she was being sarcastic or sincere. Reaching her bed, she took a pause to survey the area, and made a decision. She went to her desk drawer, and delicately picked up the small golden kaleidoscope, though the color had faded throughout the years. "Actually, before I sleep, could you clean this up for me? It needs a good shine."

Mrs. Potts took the toy, though a frown crossed her face. "Still here, I see. You know, if this means so much to you, why don't we put it in a glass case? Or at least somewhere where it won't catch dust. Why must you always have it there near your bed?"

"It's special." Minnie said, and left it at that, laying down on her bed. The maid shrugged to herself, and left to obey the order. As for the duchess, thinking of birthdays, toys, kisses, heroes and where the differences between men and women began, she closed her eyes, not trying to sleep, but traveling back in time, when such issues where few and far away...

... to when she was but a small child, standing in her room, glaring hard at the same maid who had yet to grow those gray hairs.

"The Lord and Lady send their deepest apologies for not being able to attend to you on your birthday." Mrs. Potts bowed humbly, trying to make up for the absence of her employers. "They had urgent business to attend to, and they have sworn to send the best - "

"No!" Young Minerva had screamed, stomping her feet. "Not again! It's not fair! It's my BIRTHDAY! Why aren't they home?"

"My lady, please..." The servant reached forward to console her, but the girl would have none of that. She scampered away, throwing around everything she could get her hands on.

"I hate them!" Hot tears ran down her face as she smashed dolls and frames to pieces, ignoring her maid's pleas. "I hate them, I hate them, I hate them! They're never home! They PROMISED me they'd be home for my birthday!"

The older woman struggled to pick up the shattered pieces. "Please, my lady-"

"Go away!" Another shriek followed, as the girl threw one of her plush toys at the servant. "I hate you too! You're all liars!"

Pained, but knowing she had to obey orders, Mrs. Potts silently bowed again, and retreated to the doors, closing them behind her. Minerva continued to make a mess of things, before bursting into loud, hiccupping sobs, clinging to her fancy bed sheets. What was the point of her parents making promises when they never kept them? All of these gifts meant nothing to her... they were just tacked-on apologizes wrapped in silk and bows. The servants would help the lies, saying the parents did love her, there was just 'business' to attend to. But what business could be more important than their child, she could never fathom. She was, at this point, convinced she herself was nothing but a gift, something her parents could glimpse at, be proud of their own achievements, and then leave it alone until they got bored again.

As her vision cleared, her eyes fell on the window just above her dresser drawer. From there, she could see the city, the very tops of buildings she had dreamed about visiting with her parents. All at once, the idea came to her. She'd run away! Oh yes, she'd find a much better family, one that would keep their promises, who would be there for her birthday, who would only care about her. Then her parents would be sorry, oh yes they would, they'd cry and beg and gnash their teeth, begging to all high heaven to get their daughter back, but it'd be too late, they had their chance.

Not wanting to face the journey alone, her eyes darted about the room quickly for an adequate companion, before settling on a small cat plush, which she had affectionately named Figaro. Her parents had never allowed for a real pet, allergies being the excuse, and so to Minerva, it was as good as she was going to get. Scooping him into her arms, she whispered to him delicately. "Let's go." She made him nod, and then climbed up the drawer, unlocked the window, pushed it open, and looked out. Long vines were ensnaring her side of the mansion, and she tugged one to see if it could hold. Theory proven correct, she clasped onto it, and dragged herself down onto the ground, where the grass was still wet with the morning dew.

They were off! Past the elaborate gardens, past the endless hedge maze, past the marble statues of wars long forgotten, for there were no guards or servants around at this hour. She easily squeezed through the black gates that made up the entrance, and from then on, slowed her walk, into the gigantic city. As the morning faded, people were starting to go about their day, opening their shops, talking to neighbors, and before she knew it, she was surrounded by people, though they failed to notice her. Several times she was shoved aside, and it wasn't long before the bottom of her dress was caked with dirt. At first, she marveled at all she could see, often stopping in one place just to watch people talk or to gaze upon a device she had never encountered before.

But as she strayed further and further away from home, the rush of excitement began to be replaced with a trembling fear. This little girl, who had grown up with only a small portion of familiar faces, was now in a sea of surprises, and she didn't know how to handle it. How was she supposed to find a new family in this? Terror seized her, and she longed for nothing more to than to be back in her room, where she knew where everything went and what her schedule would be. When she heard the yapping of sudden, and to her vision savage, dogs, she let out a tiny yelp, and fled into the nearest alleyway. It was dark and cold, with the only company being the piled up garbage that attacked her nose at once.

Pressing Figaro close to her heart, she realized the audacity of her actions, but did not know how to return home. And what if she did return home? Mummy and Daddy were sure to be furious, maybe cast her out for daring to leave! And the servants... oh, she hadn't meant to tell Mrs. Potts she hated her! The servants were the only friends she had! Horror and sadness merged, and she fell to her knees, crying into her cat. So absorbed was she in her own troubles that she didn't hear the red rubber ball rolling near her direction, nor the first call of the child that was soon to change her life.

She heard him the second time. "Hey! Can ya kick it back?"

That was aimed at her? Shoulders hitched in caution, she lifted her head, daring to look at the caller. Standing in the direct entrance of the alley was a mouse boy, no doubt around her age, with tattered clothes and a soft but unruly clump of hair atop his head. His outfit seemed to have been patched several times over, and dirt was nearly a second outfit on top of him. Just behind him, there were a few other children dressed similarly, girls and boys, faces ranging from curious to impatient. It had been so long since Minerva had seen other children that she simply didn't know what to do with herself.

"What is she, deaf?" One girl called out, with short brown hair and an agitated expression. "Just grab it, Mickey!"

While a few children echoed the sentiment, the boy - Mickey - was busy inspecting the newcomer's face, and he walked closer to her, ignoring the ball entirely. "She's cryin'." He explained to the others, showing where his concern was. "Whatsa matter?" Now back to her.

Feeling fresh tears brew up, she choked before managing to get the words out. "I-I'm lost! And I... and I... I don't know how to go hooooome!" She put her face back to the cat, as saying the problem out loud had actually confirmed it, made it wholly real.Mickey waited a moment, and then patted Minerva on the head three times, imitating a move he had seen his friend's parents perform to console their own crying children. It caused her to look back up at him, and he smiled warmly. "I'll help ya out... shoot, Riku gets lost all the time, I take him home three times a week."

"I do not!" No doubt that embarrassed high pitched voice was Riku. Laughter erupted among the group.

Mickey offered a hand in a worn out glove. "What's yer name?"

She looked to his hand, then back to his face, back and forth, but then took it, carefully getting back to her feet. "M-Minerva." Oh, mustn't forget - a proper lady always curtsies, as her lessons dictated, and so she did, releasing his hand and tugging at one end of her destroyed dress.An eyebrow was quirked at that. "… Yer weird." He took her hand. "I like it! My name's Mickey. Come on." He tugged at her hand, kicked the ball back to the group, and dragged the semi-frightened child to the other children. He then pointed them out one by one. "That's Riku, n' Kairi, n' Sora... Ven, n' Namine, n' Xion... Hayner, Pence, n' Olette." Now that Minerva could get a better look at them, the children were all as filthy as Mickey, with pants and dresses that said they could afford nothing like Minnie's adorable ribbons.

Minerva curtsied again to them, but the one called Hayner yawned dramatically. "Yeah sure, whatever. Can we play something else now?"

"Let's play Team Tag!" The girl dubbed Kairi chirped, with her hands up in the air.

Hayner heartily agreed to it. "Team Tag, yeah! I'm it, everyone pick your teams!"

Catching the extremely confused look on Minerva's face, Mickey pulled her a little closer. "Ya can be on my team."

"Hey, you're on my team!" Selphie, the brown-haired one, ran over, grabbing Mickey's free arm. "We're always on the same team!" Minerva was now brave enough to return the heated glare, and tugged right back on Mickey's offered arm.

Hoping to stop this tug-of-war, Mickey wrestled his arm free from Selphie's tight embrace. "Aw, come on, Selphie, she's new! Why don't ya team up with Ven?"

Selphie pouted, but accepted her defeat with a huffed 'fine'. Hayner closed his eyes, shouting loudly. "You got 'till the count of ten! One..."

The children scattered into their teams, and fled into the city. Grinning, Mickey began to run, making sure Minerva could catch up. "I know a great hiding spot, Minnie!"

She stared at him, startled by the sudden nickname. Then, shocking herself, she burst into laughter.

The hours passed in new games she had never heard of, exploring every nook and cranny of the city. All the children warmed up to her, even Selphie, though she still clamored that next time, she and Mickey would be a team. Mickey never left her side, taking special care to explain rules of the games, where one did and did not hide, and the best pranks to pull on the shop keepers. He never let go of her hand, ensuring that she would not be lost again under his watch. He was not the leader of the children, but instead seemed to be more of a mediator, settling disputes and coming up with conclusions that would satisfy them all. He was her sacred guardian, and she wondered if she had ever felt so happy and secure than before this day.As the sun left the sky and stars began to appear, each child was forced to go to their own homes. By the time the moon was visible, the only ones left were the two mice. Knowing she would have to go home, Minerva - though she had by now fully welcomed being called Minnie - tried to explain what her home looked like in order for Mickey to guide her back. It wasn't until she mentioned the large black gates that his eyes lit up, and he knew the way at once. He explained on the way back that when the other children weren't available for play, he would often go to the gates, climb to the very top, and try to see what was beyond. He had been shooed away many times by the servants, but that hardly stopped him.

It wasn't until they were past the gates, past the statues, and long into the hedge-maze that Mickey asked why she had left home in the first place.

Exhausted from walking, she sat on the grass, and he sat by her side. "I got mad at mummy and daddy. They promised they'd be home for my birthday, but today is my birthday, and they couldn't come home."

His eyes widened, and, after a bit of thought, he dug within the pocket of his coat, and pulled out a small golden cylinder. He rubbed it with his sleeve to clean it, and then held it out towards her. "Happy Birthday!"

She blinked. "What?"

"Happy Birthday!"He repeated, and pushed it into her hand."Everyone should get a gift on their birthday... this is my treasure, it's called a kal..." He pressed his lips, trying to sound it out right. "Kal...eye...doh...sc...ope."

Looking down at the 'scope', she recalled seeing something similar in her father's office, though it was far longer, and, the one time she was able to sneak a look at it, she was able to see the stars as if they were in front of her face. However, when she closed one eye and pressed the toy to the other eye, she did not see stars - she saw distorted colors and sparkles, and although it was a pretty sight, it was met with worry. "It's broken." She lamented in disappointment. "I can't see the stars or anything."

"It's not supposed to." He reached over, "Here, lemme just - " and twisted the end - and the colors blended together, the sparkles moved, and everything was a movement of stained glass, with each new action causing a new reaction, a world devoted to nothing but patterns and brightness.Her gasp was soft and mystified, even when his hand was drawn back. "I-It's... it's so beautiful! I-It's like a rainbow, but, crooked, and …windows, and the red and the blue, and the points, and the..." Coherence was lost in her fascination, and Mickey couldn't help but laugh at her wonderment. Yet as delightful as the show was, she recalled his words, and pulled it away. "Wait... you said this was your treasure."

He nodded in affirmation. "A-huh. See, this one time, there was this big carriage fulla' toys, but the wheel broke, and the carriage fell over, and the toys went everywhere! So me and the others tried ta grab as much as we could... I could only get that." It wouldn't be until later in her life that Minnie would realize it was the only toy he had ever gotten, could ever 'afford' to get - he was an orphan, and such privileges as this were rare to him.

Despite not being aware of those facts just yet, guilt weighed heavily on her. "But if it's your treasure, I can't take it..."

"Don't worry about it." He gave her the three head pats again. "You can bring it out the next time you play with us."

"Next time?" It hadn't occurred to her that there would be one.

His smile began to falter. "...Ya are gunna come and play with us again, aren't' cha?"

She looked down at the toys in her hands. In one, Figaro, the cat given as yet another excuse to what she couldn't have, a fabrication of her parents' denial. In the other, the 'scope', worn out and slightly cracked, filled to the brim with memories of childhood innocence and love. She looked up again, her face bright. "A-huh. I definitely am."

"Great!" He stood up, and made a fist with one hand, save for one pinky extended out. In address to her blank look, he wiggled the pinky. "It's a pinky promise. Ya link pinkies, and that means ya can't ever break it."

She stood up, but there was a small dilemma, as her hands were full, so there could be no pinkies exchanged. Mulling it over, she decided to turn around, and, with some effort, looped her small tail around his finger.

"...Yer weird." He said once more. "I like ya."

The children giggled, and there came suddenly a warbled cry, as off, in the distance, Mrs. Potts was running towards her mistress, having been hysterical all day over the loss. Taking his cue to leave, Mickey turned tail and fled, while Minnie was scooped up into the servant's arms, drowning in apologies and warnings.

Her parents' make-up gift this round would be a tall doll house, but Minnie - she told the servants they could call her as such - barely touched it, preferring to spend her time gazing into the kaleidoscope. Once the servants let their guard down and were assured the run-away was a onetime thing... she left the home again, and joined the street children. As years passed, each child had to stop playing for their own reasons, be it school for Riku, moving away for Hayner, jobs for Sora, no one was sure what exactly became of Xion, and so on and so forth. Eventually, as teenage years were reached, Minnie would only find Mickey when she came to the city. He took up a job as a paper boy, and she didn't have to hide her visits to him, choosing to ride in her own carriage to see him. Their games of Team Tag and exploration were now shortened to chats over the news he was handing out, and he'd always save a paper just for her.

"My lady?"

Minnie opened her eyes, and saw that the maid had already returned, looking distraught.

"I'm sorry, did I wake you?"

"No, no, I wasn't asleep..." She murmured dreamily, sitting up on her purple themed bed. "...I was just remembering… nevermind. Are you done already?"

Mrs. Potts shook her head, dreading the bad news she was being forced to give. "… Mister Rodawn is here again. He is waiting for you at the gates."

"Merde!" Minnie was fully awake again, leaping to her feet in a burst of frustration. "Didn't he learn anything when I gave him a piece of my mind?" She stormed out of the room, not caring that she was only in her nightgown and her hair was not fit for public viewing. "Then I'll give him more pieces until he chokes on them! Wait for me in my room, Mrs. Potts!" She ignored her maid calling after her, not wanting to trouble her or the other few servants left in for the night. She would deal with this matter herself! Her anger grew in leaps and bounds as she walked outside, seeing Mortimer stand on the gates, sharp teeth in a wicked smirk. "Perhaps I've failed to make myself clear, Rodawn." He didn't deserve a first name, she decided as she unlocked and opened the gates. "I never, and will never, have any interest in-"

Even for all her hatred of Mortimer, she never would have guessed he'd shove a disgusting rag onto her mouth and nose. A muffled scream was drowned in chemicals, and for the second time in her life she found herself forced into sleep.

Max and Goofy could only guess night had approached, as their cell lacked any windows to give them an indication otherwise. They had been kept there since the morning without a proper explanation, with Goofy trying to assure his son it was only a mistake that would be cleared up, and Max pacing the room in fury. Both came to attention as footsteps sounded nearby, and Pete's looming shadow covered them once more. "Have a nice day, boys?"

"What are we even doing here?" Max grabbed the bars, unafraid of the larger man of authority. "We didn't do anything wrong! Let us out!"

Pete lit a fresh cigar, and took his time to blow the smoke into Max's face. "Can't do that, kiddo. See, my cute niece shared the best story with me. Hey, Goof!" Goofy didn't want to stand, but did so upon being called. "Did your boy ever share the fact that he's a member of that revolution that's been going around?"

Goofy tried to question Pete about what he meant, but Max kept taking charge. "You can't lock me up and accuse me with lies!"

Pete rolled the cigar in his mouth, taking in the taste. "I got an eye witness says otherwise. But you're the type of kid who'd deny everything to his dying day, I bet. It'd be nice for everyone if you confessed and took the blame, so I thought of arrangement that'd be real dandy." He took out his cigar, using it as a pointer, and dropped ashes as he aimed at Goofy. "Either admit you're one of the revolutionaries, and a traitor to the crown… or your old man takes your place on the guillotine for the crime of inciting a riot, assault, robbery-"

"You're insane!" Max tried to reach out to smack the cigar out of Pete's hand, but the distance between them was too great. "You can't pin anything on me, so you'll make up stuff about him? No one would ever believe this!"

Pete pretended to tsk in disappointment. "Aw, now that's a shame… the two of you really don't share anything at all, do you? Think of me as a family counselor." He took another inhale of smog before pressing on, as Max didn't notice his father quietly approaching. "I was on my usual beat ten years ago, when I saw a guy flee the local hospital after attacking almost every doctor in the place. I kept the memory of his face locked up in my head… I couldn't arrest him with the riot going on, but I knew that he'd come in handy someday. Happy someday, Geefs!" He clapped in celebration, but Max still didn't understand.

"You're insulting my intelligence with this nonsense!" Max growled, still taking hopeless swings against his captor. "Stop making up stories, or-" Goofy's hand met his shoulder, and Max aimed his disgruntled attitude at his father momentarily. "Dad, I can handle this!"

Goofy's voice was unusually delicate, speaking as if every word was fragile, eyes on Pete. "… If I confessed ta what I did, will ya let Max go home?"

"Dad?" Max had never seen his father look so… so… even his vastly superior mind couldn't find the word for it. A different man was standing there beside him, water filling up his droopy eyes.

Pete, meanwhile, found the whole matter utterly hilarious, his round belly laughing at the sight. "You still don't get it, boy? Ten years ago, your dad was the one who caused the First Bloody Sunday!"

The son waited for his father to assure him it was a lie, but nothing of the sort came. Goofy, the always happy and spirited Goofy, was falling apart at the seams, his body shuddering with fresh cries he had been holding back for over a decade. "… Yer… yer ma was so sick… I didn't know what ta do… n-no one would help her, and I didn't have the money… I… I just wanted someone ta listen! Ta help! I didn't mean fer anythin' like that ta happen… I didn't… I swear I didn't…"

That couldn't be true. Max wanted his smarts to be of some use, to find the logical explanation for why these lies were being told, but as his brain kicked into high gear, dreadful pieces were falling into place. As the instigator of so many innocent deaths, Goofy was probably a wanted man, even if only Pete knew his identity. That was why Goofy had never tried to better himself or get more important jobs, as that would only draw attention to himself. He never stood up for himself, he allowed himself to be degraded and fired and insulted by everyone and anyone because to fight back might give people the right idea. "No, no, no…" Max's breath was coming in quick. "You… you sent in those blueprints! That would have gotten attention if I'd gotten in!"

"I know." Goofy nodded numbly, not fighting it even now. "I figured… People might find me out, and all that, but… at least ya'd have a better life. Ya didn't need me 'round… I'd just hold ya down. Ya'd get a fresh new start without me."

A life's worth of horror and guilt seized Max by the heart, almost killing him at once. Goofy had risked his identity being found out, risked being arrested and killed, all for the sake of his son who had never shown any appreciation towards him. Everything Goofy had done was to protect Max, and he had been willing to give it all away for Max too. "D… Dad… N-no, Dad… I-I'm… so sorry…" How could he have treated his father that way? Yet how could he have known? There was so much to apologize for, so much to make up for, and only one way to amend everything. With what breath he could grasp, he whipped around back to Pete, his sloppy tears matching his fathers'. "I admit it! I'm in the revolution! Leave my dad alone and I'll tell you everything!"

Goofy screamed, grabbing his son, and Pete pulled out a tiny whistle from his shirt pocket. "That's a good boy." He blew once, and upon hearing the signal, Horace and other officers entered the jail arena. "Fellas, take this good man home. Only the boy's a troublemaker." He unlocked the cell door, and the officers began to fight with Goofy, whacking him with nightsticks in order to pull him away from Max, and even then, Goofy screamed and screamed his child's name. "Maximllion Geef." Pete formally announced, chewing away the last of his cigar, the officers dragging Goofy away through tears and terror. "You are under arrest for treason against the crown. Such crimes are warranted to a swift and immediate execution… but why beat around the bush?" He slammed the prison cell shut once only Max remained inside, lifeless to his punishment's description. "Tomorrow, you get to meet my sweet lady friend, Madame guillotine!"

End of Chapter Thirteen.