Lies' other name could be Sonic, since she's the fastest thing alive. We've only got one more chapter, folks!

"Your highness… he says it's urgent, and you must be there at once. What will you have us do?"

"Prepare for travel. We should be able to arrive by nightfall."

When handsome people commit atrocious acts, they gain an inherent ugliness about them, even if they never gain a wrinkle or nothing on their face is out of order. It was the same with the following morning, as the sun cast kind and warm glows upon a beautiful day that was rife was ugliness. More than half of the city's populace was gathered at the police quarters, standing before the wooden stage that held the foreboding guillotine. Only the harshest of crimes warranted a beheading, and the highest of them all was treason to the crown. Uniformed officers stood before the stage, preventing the crowd from coming any closer.

The final arrivals to the show came by carriage, and Duke Fantome couldn't have looked any happier as he stepped out into the light. The crowd, composed of poor and rich alike, murmured uneasily as Duke Rabbit followed suit, joined by Shyster, Roxanne, and Katarina who was dressed as elegantly as any noblewoman. Daisy shrieked among the masses, trying to claw her way at the cat, only stopped by Donald holding her arms back. "You!" Daisy continued to fight in Donald's grasp, hissing and spitting as Katarina calmly walked around the line of officers. "You were the traitor? How could you!"

Katarina giggled, stopping for a moment to indulge Daisy's anger. "Careful what you say, or you might join your friend. But, let's say, hypothetically, I was a part of something…" She leaned in, sneering so devilishly that Donald was sorely tempted to let Daisy go to have her way with the feline. "It still would have been your entire fault. You and your silly ideas of family… you were all too trusting. The only one you can ever depend on is yourself. Let this be a lesson to all of you." She walked away to join her higher-ups, feeling the hot glares of many within in the crowd.

"You horrid witch!" Daisy continued to yell, even when it looked like Katarina was no longer paying attention. "After all we did for you! After all the risk Peg took for us, and for you! Go to her and look her in the eye, you traitor!" Only at the mention at the owner of the winery did Katarina stop walking again. Peg's eyes were downcast, and while she wanted to join in the insults, she knew they would do no good. Katarina had made her choice about where she belonged.

Roxanne had clearly been crying nonstop, much to her father's sadistic enjoyment, and when she managed to spot Goofy in the audience, she fled from her father's side. "Mister Geef!" Her father was shouting her name, demanding for her not to shame him, but she paid him no heed as she took Goofy's arms. "Isn't there anything we can do?"

Goofy said nothing, his equally red and wet eyes speaking of the hopelessness they had all entered into. He quietly drew the younger girl into a tragic hug, and she sobbed into his chest, and soon tears were dotting the eyes of many in the public. Roger twisted his ears into knots, frightened of what he was bound to see, while Shyster took solace in the fact that once the boy was dead, his daughter would have to obey him again. Donald could find no way to bring Daisy comfort, and though he had touched his pin over and over, there had been no word from Gyro and Ludwig. Was there nothing the geniuses could think of?

The front doors to the police quarters opened, and all eyes were on Pete as he pushed the handcuffed Max towards the stage. Upon seeing his child again, Goofy plunged forward in the crowd, hollering Max's name. "Lemme go! Lemme go! Max, I'll say it! I'll say I did it! Don't take my boy away! Please! Max!" It became Horace's reluctant duty to force him back, though at least he only used brute force and not any of his weapons, as Pete had nonchalantly told the officers they were allowed to use if the public got 'upset'.

It was going to get a lot more than upset, Donald judged, surveying the faces of the crowd. The lower class were grinding their teeth and clenching their fists, on the tipping point of complete fury and outrage. He held Daisy closer to him, fearing for her safety and understanding what was about to come. Even those who weren't members of the revolution were disgusted by this act, and many were seeing it as the final straw. The death of a commoner child would ignite their passionate anger, and cause them to react violently at once. No doubt that's why the officers were around, so the important people, such as Fantome, would get away unscathed. Just like for the Second Bloody Sunday, the death of a clearly innocent youth would be the beginning of a bloodbath. The pent up frustrations were made clear in the eyes of many, and each step Max took towards the guillotine echoed a death knell.

Max was forced to kneel before the guillotine, and he laid his head in the wooden plank. He kept his eyes closed, unable to bear the anguish spilling from his father and lover. It was probably better this way. Goofy could live his own life, without an arrogant son to protect. Roxanne would find a boyfriend who could keep her safe and was worthy of her status. He had done nothing but bring them both trouble, and never showed any gratitude for the sacrifices they went through. He hadn't deserved them, hadn't deserved the friends he made in the revolution, hadn't deserved his brilliant mind – they were all precious gifts and he had squandered them, figuring that his mere existence had made them worthy of his company.

Pete lit a fresh cigar in his mouth, unafraid of all the hate that was leered towards him. "Maximillon Geef. You have been charged with the crime of treason against the crown. You were the one behind the planned revolution, and the plot to rob Scrooge McDuck's vault! How do you plead?"

"Guilty." Max mumbled, barely audible, barely caring. Maybe now he would see his mother again. She would be disappointed in him, but he would have eternity to apologize to her for all he had done. Even the smartest person in France could be so very, very stupid.

"Then by the power invested in me…" Pete blew out of a hefty cloud of smoke, and placed his hands on the rope pulley, ready to give it the final yank to end the judgment. "I hereby sentence you to death." He pulled –

Daisy buried herself into Donald's body so she wouldn't have to look – a new body ran throughout the crowd - Roger was too fixated in fright to move – a figure in red shoved others aside - Peg lost all strength in her legs – static entered Donald's microphone pin- Roxanne howled – Goofy made one last attempt to reach out – Horace lost his hold on Goofy – Shyster watched the blade – someone jumped on stage - Fantom watched the crowd – Max shouted his chosen final words, "Dad, I'm sorry!"

The blade came to a sudden and complete halt upon meeting a sword. When Daisy didn't hear the sickening combination of metal meeting flesh, she lifted her head to see what had happened, and she joined the united shock of seeing The Scarlet standing on the wooden stage, holding out his sword to prevent the blade from coming any closer. His arms were shaking, unable to keep this up for much longer.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, nephew!" Donald's pin crackled to laugh, as Ludwig grabbed a hold of small lever back in the lab. "But our officers here have been letting criminals go all night, no doubt to keep our boy here distracted… but this is where the real show starts!" He yanked the lever forward, amplifying the sword's strength in his owner's hands. With one grunt, Mickey heaved upwards, smacking the blade up and out of the guillotine, spinning in the air for a few faint seconds, and then it plummeted back down to earth, nicking the end of Pete's cigar as it crashed mere inches in front of his feet. Only a miracle kept the Chief of Police from fainting.

The Scarlet pulled Max back, and sliced through his handcuffs, and had Max not been rightfully stunned by this chain of events, he would recognized such feats of technology as ones he had designed. The hero then pointed his sword out to the crowd, commanding their attention. "Why in the name of Queen Nobella was this boy apologizing? It's all of you who should give your apologies to this boy! You are all outraged by what was to happen to him, but I see only his father going forward to save him! Would you all wait for his life to end before speaking up?" As Max staggered and stood, the Scarlet took his hand, and raised it as high as he could. "What will it take for you to step up and say what's wrong? There is no use in waiting! If you want to prevent this from happening again, then open your mouth!" Max felt himself being gently pushed , and taking the cue, awkwardly stepping off the stage, the sea of people parting as before him.

"Max!" Now nothing could stop the father from reaching his child, and only frozen hearts could not be warmed by the sight of their entwining arms, Max apologizing over and over while Goofy's tears continued on in his son's salvation. Roxanne joined in, and nothing less than the pull of a deity could separate the new family.

Pete had begun to recover his wits, and now the only glare left at him was the one he never wanted – Fantome's. He knew the punishment that would follow if the execution wasn't carrying out, and he spit out his destroyed cigar. "H-Hold on a minute! He admitted he was guilty! He's a member of the revolution!"

"Then you will have to arrest everyone here, sir." The Scarlet jumped down from the stage, returning his blade to its scabbard. "A revolution occurs when change is wanted. I know that is what this entire city is coming to see. For every worried and frightened face you saw as you tried to kill this boy, you saw someone wanting change. I stand in front of an entire population desiring change! We are all the revolution!"

What was once guilt became inspiration, and Peg sprang up from behind her friends, throwing a fist into the air. "Revolution! Revolution! Revolution!" Daisy dried her eyes, and held up her fist as well, as well as Donald, and it contagiously spread, more poor and rich arms coming together, yelling together, "Revolution! Revolution! Revolution!" It was a unanimous cry for justice, a bellowing apology to those they had almost helped kill, a unification of classes that wholly identified one another as living people. "Revolution!"

Fantome bit his lip hard enough to taste blood, and he stepped back, ready to return to his carriage with the other elite. Yet Roger went the opposite way, and he knew Fantome was staring at him in disbelief. Roger stood by the crowd, glancing back at the man he was still frightened of. "… I'm still afraid of you, Fantome." He answered the question hanging in the air. "… But I'm more afraid of what I'd b-be if I didn't stand up for what's right." His fist joined all the others, and the cry was that much louder with one more voice.

Pete was losing control of the situation quickly, and Fantome was heading for his carriage, Katarina and Shyster following. He stumbled on the stage, trying to get off. "H-Horace, arrest that kid! He's guilty, get him!"

Horace had a pistol and a nightstick, but as he watched and heard the crowd, he didn't touch either weapon. It would have been easy to obey those orders, and he was no doubt in deep trouble if he didn't. He rolled up his sleeves, the scars from Clarabelle's near death experience still healing. She was at his home, unable to leave his bed as she cried for hours. It was this system that had put her there, and if nothing changed, then she might still go running back to Fantome. Goofy had tried to make a difference, tried to save his son's life, and in the end he hadn't been able to do it. Yet he had still tried, knowing the possibility of failure.

Horace turned around, looking his superior directly in his stubble dotted face. "No."

This was not happening. Pete was choking harder than anytime he had ever smoked. "What? Didn't you hear me? I said arrest-"

"I heard ya loud and clear!" Horace grabbed Pete's police badge and ripped it off. "I've been hearin' the worst orders from ya and that lousy Duke, and I ain't ever said a word about it! But now I've got somethin' to say!"He held the badge aloft in the air, and echoed the sentiments for himself. "Revolution!" There would be no Bloody Sunday here, not with this tight knot of togetherness, not when so many wanted the same thing, and to Pete's growing fear, the officers that weren't simply standing by uneasily were joining Horace's side, joining the cry.

"Revolution!" They would be silent no more! "Revolution!" They would speak up for the change they wanted! "Revolution!" This was truer and purer than Daisy's flimsy ideas of revenge, and she and Donald held hands, chanting with the others, as the Scarlet kept his eyes on Pete, daring him to try and stop anyone. Pete was drowned out in their cries, and with no one to obey him, his fear escalated, and he scrambled to get into Fantome's carriage. The door slammed shut, taking away the host of villains whose plans had been changed once more.

But the celebration was not meant to last. The Scarlet and Donald were instantly alerted to Gyro's voice, invested in panic. "Guys, we've got more problems! The Rodawn Theater's been set on fire… and he's got the Duchess inside!" He knew he didn't have to give Mickey any instructions, as the mere mention of her title had already sent him running. "Donald, you've got to get the fire fighters, alert everyone! If it's not stopped soon, it's going to spiral out of control!"

Donald didn't need to be told twice, and he too began to run, dragging a startled Daisy off with him. "D-Donald, what are you doing?"

"If we're all ready to work together, there's stuff we need to work on right now!"

What a dismal day. Fantome smoothed out his thin mustache, still able to taste blood on his lip. He didn't like it when he lost his composure. It wasn't the act of a gentleman. Every plan he had come up with was falling apart, but it couldn't be because the Scarlet was smarter than him. He only had a few more cards left to play in his deck, but they would be the ones to bring the Third Bloody Sunday. He would not accept anything else.

"I'm very disappointed, Pete." He spoke with calm disdain, altering the other worried patrons of the carriage. Katarina was unable to get the image of Peg starting the crowd's unification, the same kind woman who had often pet Katarina in between the ears and lovingly accepted the unknown cat as one of her own. Shyster was unconsciously hoping there was still a chance for the Third Bloody Sunday to happen, and get lucky enough to have Roxanne killed during the riot so her stain on his family's name would lift. Pete felt a dangerous fateful dagger approaching the place where his badge used to be, knowing that whatever Fantome had in store was going to hurt. "I had already called up the Queen's men before I came out today. You couldn't even shoot the boy."

The carriage slowed down at its destination. The Rodawn Theater's windows were billowing black clouds of death, but the driver wasn't stupid enough to question why his master wanted to stop here. The four stepped out, already feeling the heat from the inferno within. "Shyster." Fantome commanded without looking at his banker. "Go set the preparations. I'll join you momentarily." Shyster gulped as he faced the theater, and then reluctantly went past the front doors to fulfill his orders. "As for you two…" The driver had taken off, which meant the cats were stranded with their superior. "Katarina has already served her purpose, and with the Scarlet's continued interference, I need less people tied to me. So, Pete, I'll give you a choice." He reached over, taking out Pete's gun, and placing it in the police chief's hand. "Kill Katarina."

The uncle and niece wore matching expressions of horror. Though they carried black hearts, they were still hearts beating the same blood as each other. "W-wait a minute!" Katarina stepped forward, hands out, pleading her case. "Uncle Pete called me out here to help you! Y-You can't toss me aside like this! I'll still work for you, give me another chance!"

Fantome wouldn't even look at her, waiting on Pete. "Your hesitation is telling, Pete. You kill her, or I'll have you killed."

There was not a doubt in Pete's mind that Fantome meant every word. He wondered why he was surprised by this command, though. Ever since he had first met Fantome, he knew the dog cared for no one and was willing to get rid of them without a second thought. Pete had always known this, and he'd brought his niece into the scheme anyway. She was beautiful and smart, of course she'd be a great asset. He'd taught her how to act when blending in with the common crowd, and he'd been so proud of her. The two of them, Pete and Katarina, they'd never fail Fantome. They were invincible, they were immortal. Now he was holding his silver gun, fingers trembling as they touched the trigger.

"Un… Uncle!" Katarina began to back away, remembering what she had told Daisy. The only family you could count on were the ones you were born from. Now her family was aiming at her. "Uncle, please! I-I'll do better! I'll really get the Scarlet next time!" Why wasn't he lowering his arm? No, no, if she had to die, then not like this! "Uncle Pete! Please, don't!"

Pete didn't want to do it, didn't want to see it, he was so sorry – and a shot did fire, but not from him. He yelped in pain, dropping the gun as he clutched his wounded hand. A rubber bullet rolled on the stone ground, and the trio of darkness gained a fourth player as the Scarlet walked into the scene, gray wisps leaving his pistol. "That's enough. No one is dying today." He shoved his pistol back into its holster, taking careful steps forward. "The power this man has over the both of you is astounding. You would sacrifice anyone close to you to see that he isn't angered. You can't think of doing something other than his commands. I wonder how you even remember to eat breakfast in the morning if he's not there to tell you. And yet, while you were hesitating to hurt your niece, it never once occurred to you…" He kicked the dropped gun away, disappointment in his inflection. "… That you could shoot Fantome?"

Pete was shot by the gross realization of his own incompetence. Why hadn't he thought of that? Why had he automatically assumed he had no choice but to do as the Duke said? When had he lost all functions, and the ability to think for himself? He thought that by working for Fantome, he could become more powerful, but it was the exact opposite – he had become the weakest man in France. He wasn't even worthy of the Scarlet's eyes, and Katarina was equally swallowed up by the disgusting force she had become. "You haven't had an original thought for a long time," The Scarlet finished as he approached the doors. "Except when it came to your niece. She was the first time you thought outside of Fantome's orders, and you were about to get rid of your last chance to be your own man again."

The Scarlet and Fantome looked at one another, and the Duke smirked, gesturing to the doors. "Your lady love awaits inside."

"And when she is safe," The Scarlet pulled on the door, welcoming the waves of heat upon him. "I'll be coming for you."

"I wouldn't expect any less." The two parted ways, leaving the cats to stare at one another, lost in what could have been.

The fire had started from the curtains, if the hero had to guess. It was spreading throughout the theater, devouring seats and causing old wooden stairways to fall apart. The stage was intact for now, and carrying the most important players. Mortimer rose to attention, grasping a fanciful sword and climbing down to meet his opponent. The Duchess, in the same nightgown s the night before, was still on the stage, ropes binding her ankles and wrists, and there was a swell of pride in Mickey's chest as he saw she had not been crying. She was relieved to see him, and he met her smile with one of his own. "I'm here to escort you home, most precious."

"You'll have to get through me first!" Mortimer charged forward, sword out. "The insurance for this theater will make me richer, and I'll have a gorgeous bride to boot! Say your prayers, Scarlet!"

Mortimer lacked the skills and strength to make this an equal fight by any means, but he had an ounce of cleverness to him by setting the theater on fire. In addition to dodging Mortimer's strikes, the Scarlet would have to dodge flames, smoke, and keep an eye on Minnie as she was in plenty of danger with the fire escalating. Planks from above tumbled down, and with these cheating advantages, Mortimer was able to get a slice or two in. Ludwig and Gyro were speedily telling Mickey fighting tips, where to duck and where to blow, but during the fight, Gyro let out a surprised gasp.

"Gyro, what's… what in the world?" Ludwig blabbered into the microphone, and to add onto the problems, his voice was fading in and out. "Our cameras are being attacked! How is this even possible? No one even knows… We might lose communication with you, just hang -" The sentence was cut off by a harsh sounding buzz, making the Scarlet visibly wince. Shaking his head, he managed to successfully block Mortimer's blows as they came. Though the rat was taller and had slightly more muscle to him, the vigilante had considerably more skill and determination. It was only a matter of time before the obvious victory, but with the fire continuing to build, time was something he couldn't afford.

"You just don't know when to give up, do you!" The classic cheesy line was growled by the taller one, gripping both hands on his sword, as both blades were now locked together, both men pressing hard against each other. "If you give up now, I won't even tell that you ran away with your tail between your legs!"

"You're not even worth my time!" The Scarlet shot out his leg, kicking Mortimer hard in the stomach, and sending the taller one flat on his back. "I'll only leave you be when you swear to leave the Duchess alone!" It was difficult not to fall into his usual dialect with the heat and exhaustion growing around him, but this would be an awfully bad time for his identity to be revealed. If Mortimer just gave up now, everything could go a lot smoother. A promise, a swear, that was all Mickey needed, and would be satisfied with that alone.

So he thought, until a piercing scream hit the both of them.

Both male heads turned toward the stage, where the fire had now completely engulfed the acting arena. The floor beneath Minnie's feet could no longer support her, and in a devastating crash, it collapsed beneath her, and she fell downward, vanishing before their eyes. Before the horror of that could even begin to sink, more planks of the ceiling tumbled down, falling into the hole, possibly crushing whatever lay beneath there. Not even her screams could be heard anymore, over the roar of the flames and the continued collapse of the building.

Not even Mickey's scream could be heard, as he scrambled towards the destroyed stage, ignoring whatever fell onto his path and ignoring the burns that would appear on his body. He managed to climb onto the ruins of the stage and look down the hole… but there was only sheer darkness. No basement, no lower portion of a hidden stage, no trap doors… just a bottomless hole that could go on forever. That was where his Minnie had fallen.

Mortimer, however, had no such fears or concerns, beginning to get back on his feet. Only now had he realized the danger he had put himself in since he had set this blaze, and looked around for an escape. To his fortune, he could see past the burning chairs that the doors were still intact. With relief, he began to run up the aisle, glad he would soon be able to put this whole day of humiliation behind him.

"Ludwig, what's going on?" Gyro couldn't look for himself, his fingers flying over dozens of keyboards, doing his best to get the cameras alive. Something had attacked one of their cameras, and when it had infected one, it had infected them all. Only one screen was working, and was on the scene in the theater Yet he had heard the Duchess screaming as well, for although they could not communicate with Mickey, with electronic waves blocking both sight and sound, they could still hear and see everything that was going on within the theater. Gyro couldn't afford to look up for even a second for sake of missing a keystroke.

With some foreign swearing under Ludwig's beak, the duck was beating on another keyboard, while also pulling and pushing on a joystick, while slamming the button for the microphone over and over again. The dozens of screens above their heads flashed different angles of the burning theater one at a time, unable to properly focus, and Ludwig rapidly looked from each one to the next, his arms blurring over all the different tasks he was trying to do. "That was the Duchess! The theater's collapsing, and it took the girl with it!"

"Is she all right?" Any other time, Gyro would have realized this was a stupid question, but his mind was barely in the conversation.

"I can't tell! I can't find her!" Not for lack of trying, as Ludwig tried to move the cameras with the joystick as best he could. "And I still can't talk to the boy! He's…" It was then that his attention was back to the boy in question, and although Gyro couldn't see it, Ludwig's already white feathered face began to pale further. "Oh… no."

Gyro nearly threw a keyboard in his agitation, snapping harsher than he meant to. "What in the world is going on, Von Drake?"

Getting out of Ludwig's momentary stupor, he shook his head, and nearly yanked the microphone out of its place. "Mickey! Mickey, stop!" Gyro immediately knew the seriousness of the situation, using the Scarlet's real name over the communication lines, despite the risks involved. The inventor looked up at the screens for the slightest of moments to see what the terror was, as Ludwig continued to uselessly yell at the top of his lungs. "Mickey, you'll kill him!"

In the few minutes that the birds had been talking to each other, Mortimer had been heading for the doors, when a sudden hot pain struck at the back of his left leg. It wasn't the touch of fire, but the slicing open of a sword wound. Mortimer had fallen, yelling as he clutched his leg, but the attacker didn't wait for him to recover before creating another slice along his back. The rat quickly rolled to a side before being struck for a third time, and as he now laid on his back, he used his blade to block a fourth blow. Standing over him was the Scarlet, his clothes burnt, his body covered in sweat and soot…

And his eyes without a single shred of mercy.

The mouse struck again, and again, and again, not giving Mortimer even a fighting chance to stand back. Mortimer could tell now that this fight was rapidly different from the one sheer moment before. Then, the Scarlet was trying to inflict the least amount of wounds, was playing fair, and was even allowing Mortimer to run away unscathed. Now?

Now, Mortimer realized in the pit of his stomach, the Scarlet was trying to kill him. The rat forced himself to speak, begging to high heaven that reason would save his life. "H-Hold on! You've never killed anyone before! You're not supposed to!" It wasn't working, because the blades still danced, with the Scarlet not even flinching as he got cut as well. Once more, their blades were locked, but this time, much to Mortimer's dread, the Scarlet's 'push back' was far, far stronger. The hero wasn't holding anything back this time, and hadn't said a single word. His mouth had been closed since this revenge had begun, with not even a bite of the lip or grinding of the teeth.

"I'll turn myself in!" Mortimer tried to get his voice was loud as possible, as if volume was the problem. He cried out when his sword was forcibly yanked out of his hand, and tossed aside along with the Scarlet's. "I swear, I'll even tell them to give me a huge sentence! A hundred years! It was all Fantome's idea! I'll tell you everything you want to know about him!I'll do anything you want!" The pleas went unheard, as the hero's gloved hands now clung to Mortimer's neck, pinning him down, getting tighter and tighter with each beating second. Mortimer struggled to claw at his attacker, but it didn't stop the fingers pressing into his throat.

Tighter and tighter and tighter… As she had fallen further and further… His hopes, his dreams, the reason why he had donned the mask, why he had fought to live… Maybe, if one rotten life was taken, a pure one could return… Tighter… tighter…

That harsh buzzing sound came again, followed by " – alive! She could still be alive! The girl could still be alive!"

The fuse of the Scarlet's rage was doused, as he suddenly sat up, eyes wide, loosening his hands. "Huh?"

Ludwig's voice was back, and speaking as rapidly as he could make it. "Mortimer built his theaters over old canals! There should be miles of running water underneath there! If she landed in the water, she might be okay!

Mortimer was instantly forgotten, and the boy broke into a sprint, racing back towards the gaping hole in the stage. Without a second thought, he jumped right into the hole, paying no attention to Mortimer, who had begun dragging himself out of the theater now that he could breathe again.

Mortimer's life was spared, but that didn't mean they were out of the woods yet. The microphone was still going in and out, and now many of the cameras had been shut out completely. "Someone is shutting down all of our electric signals!" Gyro was out of his seat, slamming his hands futilely down on the keys. "We can't help Mickey out if this doesn't stop! Who could be doing this?"

"There's only one man I can think of who would be capable," Ludwig continued trying to maneuver any controls he could touch for any response. "But he's dead!"

Gyro's stomach plummeted as dots connected, each one worse than the last. "… So are 'we'."

The landing in the water was rough, but Mickey had far gone past caring about pain. The canal was long, dark, and deep, with the only light coming from the planks in the water, some of which still burned brightly. It was thanks to this light that Mickey, when he had swum to the top of the water and stuck his head out to breathe, could see a stone floor to climb on top of. It appeared that this used to be a casual canal in which people would stop by to get a wooden boat ride on, but the theater had been built over it when better boats had come along. There on the stone floor lay Minnie, lying on her belly, breathing quietly in her fatigue, worn out from the day's events.

Flooded with joy, Mickey swam to the stone surface, climbing out of the water and kneeling beside the small maiden. "Minnie." He breathed, scooping her up into his arms, and pressing his face into her hair. She was okay, and all was right with the world. For the life of him, he couldn't remember what happened in the last five minutes before this moment, but it was probably unimportant. All that mattered now was hearing her breathe, hearing her heart beat, feeling her move in his embrace.

As for the duchess, she weakly opened her eyes, vision blurry from her weariness. In that blurriness, she couldn't entirely make out who she was being held by. Yet she could faintly make out his eyes, tearing up in pure love, solaced in the knowledge she was all right. The eyes seemed familiar to her, even if she couldn't make out color or shape… just the very feel of their gaze on her was recognizable, somehow. Mustering up what little strength she had left, she put her hand to his cheek, for if those eyes belonged to who she thought they did, she wanted to comfort him. It pulled him in, and both pairs of eyes closed for the kiss that was to come.

It wasn't a strong kiss, or even a very passionate one, due to both ends being in deep fatigue. However, it conveyed exactly what it needed to, that each party was okay, and that was all that mattered. Minnie couldn't even last for too long of a kiss, and sighed, resting her head on his shoulder. Almost passing out, she heard the one carrying her say a few words and she smiled in imagining who they could have come from.

"Je t'aime, ma petite duchesse." I love you, my little duchess.

There was a glow about her, almost heavenly, and Mickey ran his fingers down her cheek, only to stop when he realized the light wasn't coming from her, nor from the burning planks out on the water. They weren't alone in the canals. Mickey lifted his head, seeing Fantome holding up a lit lantern, joined by Shyster, Don Karnage, and other beagle faced goons and thugs he had defeated before. "So, she's alive?" Fantome held up the lantern to see Minnie clearer. "Maybe I did steal Gladstone's luck. This is going to make everything so much easier."

Fantome's shadow swallowed up the mice as he held the lantern up to his face, feigning calmness as beads of sweat rolled down his face. "Rodawn almost lost my last playing card… and I've still got one last move to make."

End of Chapter Fourteen.