HOME | DD

Description
It was too late, and the pistol was fired. Ortensia started to scream, but it quickly began to die, unlike Mickey. The angle of the shadow pointing a gun at his head had turned out to be a trick of the light, and Mickey was actually shooting empty bottles off the top of his desk. Mickey, sitting on his chair with his feet up on the desk, looked over at the stopped screamer. "What?"

Ortensia grabbed her chest in an effort to make her heart stop beating so rapidly. '"Y-Ye… big idiot! Ye gave me the biggest scare!" Mickey shrugged it off, and shot another bottle, shattering it into pieces. Ortensia smoothed her outfit down, and walked into the room, leaving Oswald to watch in the doorway. "What are ye doin'?"

"Shootin' bottles." Mickey felt no need to explain it any further than that. There was no hint of sarcasm or mockery in his voice. There was nothing in his voice at all, just a dead tone that elicited no emotion. He simply spoke, and that was all.

Ortensia carefully walked towards him, wincing when he fired off another shot. "… Mickey, we gotta talk. Ever since the apartment job, ye've been in a big slump. We don't even leave the docks anymore. It's been forever since ye've given anyone a job ta do. Yer worryin' the crew." He wouldn't look at her, so she put a hand on his shoulder. "Pete's been goin' on about takin' over the ship. What's gotten inta ye?"

Oswald shrugged from his place at the door. "He's probably still upset that he broke things off with Minerva."

Mickey's lip twitched for half a second, giving Ortensia confirmation. "What!" She looked back and forth between Mickey and Oswald, unsure of who to ask first, but settled on Oswald. "How would ye know about that?"

"I asked." Oswald shrugged again, deciding for Ortensia's sake he wouldn't point out the obvious fact that many of Mickey's emotions were tied to Minnie. "Besides, remember what Mirage said? As long as they were together, both of their lives were in danger. He probably ended it to keep her safe." He saw it as a noble action, but he'd need that pistol pointed between his eyes before admitting anything nice about Mickey.

Ortensia turned her attentions back to Mickey, elated by the news. "It's about time! We all knew it wasn't meant ta be. Now ye can focus back on the job, and maybe find yerself a nice lass." She leaned in close to his face, hoping he'd get the hint. "Who knows, maybe she's closer than ye think."

Mickey still kept his eyes straight forward, shooting one more time. "… I'm outta bottles."

Faced with his stoicism, Ortensia threw caution, and a good part of her dignity, to the wind. She sat down on Mickey's lap, and threw her arms around his neck. "I know it hurts now, Mickey, but you'll get over her. Ye need a girl who understands ye." She laid her head on his chest, purring to his heart. "Someone who's on yer side. Someone ye've always known. Someone who will always be there for ye." Oswald could easily see all of the flirting, but he wasn't as jealous as he used to be. By now, he understood Mickey and Ortensia's unusual relationship, and knew Mickey could only see her as a sibling and nothing more. There was nothing to be jealous over. It was just a matter of waiting for her to give up.

Mickey pulled the trigger on his gun only to hear empty clicking. "… I'm outta bullets."

Ortensia ground her teeth, and glared up at Mickey, her nails beginning to dig into his clothes. "Have ye been listenin' to a word I've said?"

Even Mickey's blinking looked forced. "… I'm outta rum."

Ortensia's hissed through closed teeth, sitting up straight and looking Mickey directly in the eyes. "Ye… Ye… big, stupid…" If Ortensia joining the crew didn't work, if pretending to like Oswald didn't work, and if straddling him and saying lines that were too cheesy for a harlequin romance novel didn't work, then Mickey was giving her very few options to work with. Years of rejection and frustration with obliviousness burst inside of her, and in a move that she knew she would regret later, she grabbed him by the jacket and forced her mouth on top of his.

Oswald knew he had nothing to be jealous about, but just because you know something doesn't mean you have complete control of it. "Hey, hey, hey!" He speedily ran into the room with the intention to rip Ortensia off of Mickey, but he didn't have to go so quickly. In that same shocked instant, Mickey's eyes regained their lively color, and he fumbled to take her by the arms and push her off. Startled, Ortensia haphazardly fell backwards and off the chair, right into Oswald's open arms.

Mickey scrambled to get out of his chair, and as he wiped his mouth with the back of his arm, his voice was rife with emotions once more. "Wha… what was that?!" Emotions such as confusion and disgust, for example.

Ortensia didn't know which was more insulting – that Mickey was so shocked, or that he kept rubbing his mouth over and over as if Pete had just tried to lay one on him. "Whaddya think! I… I love ye, Mickey!" She shoved Oswald away for her, able to stand on her feet and proudly proclaim her affections. "I've always loved ye, Mickey! Ye should've been with me all this time, I'm the one who really cares about ye!"

Mickey began preferring being heartbroken and acting on the smallest of thoughts than to be faced with this out of nowhere proclamation. "… What? Really?" It was unfathomable. Ortensia was talking nonsense. She was his sister, she couldn't possibly love him more than as a brother. It didn't make any sense at all. Why should she feel any different than he did to her?

"Why do ye think I've been lookin' fer yer ship all the time?" Ortensia balled up her fists, demanding that Mickey understand and accept her feelings. "Why do ye think I hate Minnie so much? All those times I followed ye around, sat in yer lap, call ye sweet names, and crawled inta yer bed, what did ye think I was doin'?"

"Quick question," Oswald interrupted, lightly tapping Ortensia on the ear. "Why is it whenever I do any of those things, you call me a stalker and slap me?" Judging by Ortensia's raised hand, she was ready to do exactly that.

"Aye, what about him?" Mickey pointed his empty pistol towards Oswald, eyebrows raised as the contradictions piled up inside his head. "Thought ye were marryin' Oxford over here?"

"Oh come on, now you're not even trying to get my name right!"

Ortensia jabbed her elbow into Oswald's ribs in an effort to shut him up. "I was only doin' that ta make ye jealous! Ye've always been the one fer me, Mickey!"

"But…" Mickey felt dizzy, and went to his bed to sit down. This was too much for him to take all at once. He was now forced to look at every moment he had with Ortensia in a new light, and it made him deeply uncomfortable. She was trying to ruin the family he had always assumed would stay the same. "But yer me sister…"

"Not by blood!" She tried to approach the bed, but Mickey jumped up, and began backing away further. Ortensia's despair at his horror made her temper reach new heights. "Yer actin' like I got a disease! Can't ye at least gimmie a chance?"

"A course not!" Mickey leaned back on his headboard, creeped out by the idea that Ortensia might try to kiss him again. "This is… it's just weird! It ain't right! It's like Oswald kissin' his brothers!"

"Thanks for that image." Oswald mumbled, still reeling from his aching ribs, kneeling on the floor.

Ortensia could have kept screaming about her love for Mickey, and she could have listed all the lifetime examples in which the love should have been obvious. Yet as she watched his eyes and saw nothing of her reflected in them, she knew any further fighting was pointless. Minnie or not, Mickey couldn't see Ortensia as anything but his little sister. She had even managed to blur that precious line, and changed the way he understood her. She had longed to make him think differently of her, and now she had gotten it in the worst way. Tears altered her vision, and a lump in her throat made it difficult to lash out her typical insults. "Stu… Stu…" She couldn't finish it, for Mickey wasn't being stupid. It had been her, all along.

Thoroughly embarrassed and humiliated, Ortensia fled the room, covering her face with her hands to hide herself from the rest of the crew. Oswald mentally made a note to himself to check on her in a few moments, once he was sure she wouldn't stab him. He stood up and watched Mickey climb off of the bed. "Feeling better now?"

Mickey didn't answer him because he wasn't sure. It would be easy to slip back into the nothingness and let apathy control him, but thanks to Ortensia's announcement, his emotions were dominant. "I dunno." He scratched his head, and caught sight of Oswald's sympathy. It irked him to have pity, and he held his head high. "… I mean... I'm fine. I can get over her. No, I mean, I am over her. Definitely." He crossed his arms and tapped his pistol to his side. "Everyone wants me ta be captain again? I can do that. I'm all ready. We can set sail right now."

Oswald's skepticism dripped as he spoke. "Is that so? What's the next job?"

Mickey said the first name that came to mind. "Mortimer Rodawn." He paused, and then nodded, deciding that was as good as anybody. "We're gunna go ta his place and rob him until there's nothin' left."

"Minnie's fiancé." Oswald felt he needed to state the obvious, since it was looking like the obvious was not Mickey's specialty. "We're going to go rob the guy who is marrying the girl you just dumped. That's not getting over her."

"Sure it is." Mickey refused to change his mind, and marched toward the door, ready to announce the plans to the rest of the crew. "I can still hate him." He didn't need to love Minnie to still want to drive Mortimer to the depths of poverty. Why, they were totally disconnected things. The fact that if they took every single coin away from Mortimer would mean her parents would no longer want Minnie to marry him was just a coincidence. He would take no satisfaction in driving those two apart and laughing in Mortimer's face. By the way, he felt like he was forgetting something important. Wait…

Oswald rolled his eyes once he made sure Mickey couldn't see it. Times like this made Oswald feel like he was the smartest person on this ship. But a blow to his ego came when a literal blow to his head occurred, when Mickey threw his gun at Oswald. "When did ye crawl inta Ortensia's bed?!" Mickey's announcement to the crew would have to wait until after he was done chasing Oswald all over the ship.

~*~

Summer was taking its leave, and fall brought an early chill. Donald shivered as a cold wind blew, but he did his best to put the weather out of his mind. He needed all of his concentration to scale this building and dying due to shivers was the last thing he wanted. In his continued investigation of Magica and her company, he decided to explore the angle that money could buy. Perhaps money could pay these groups to look the other way when she did illegal activities, or even worse, bribe them to help her. Everyone knew that both the A.R.M.Y. and the N.A.V.Y. owed a lot to the richest members of society, and that they obeyed more orders to the highest bidders than to the government. Donald needed to see if Magica had ever stuck her fingers in either group, just so he could make sure his loved ones were in less danger. That night, with a worn out rope, he was climbing up the N.A.V.Y. headquarters, a tall blue building that commanded respect to anyone who gazed upon it.

It probably would have helped his search if he knew where they kept their financial records. As it was, he was playing guessing games by peering into the darkened windows. Darkwing Duck may have been a master sleuth, but PK the Avenger was still trying on the ropes, both figuratively and literally. He could feel the rope giving way, and if he didn't want to become a stain on the sidewalk, he would have to make a choice of window to enter right then and there. After a quick game of Eeny Meeny Miney Mo, he chose the window in front of him. Darkwing had taught him about the important of a utility belt, so Donald managed to extract a tiny glass cutting knife from his belt, and cut out a circle large enough for him to fit through.

When the cut was finished, he lightly tapped on the circle, and it fell through. He managed to catch it before it could hit the ground, and then carefully slid himself into the room. He placed the glass circle aside on the floor, and let go of the rope. The room's lights were off, so it wasn't easy to tell what kind of room he was in. He could faintly make out desks and stacks of papers, so his first guess was an official office. It wouldn't be a stretch to say that financial records could be found in a place of paperwork like this, so Donald felt proud in his decision.

Reading any of these documents would be impossible in this darkness, so Donald began fishing in his belt again. He knew he had packed a tiny flashlight in there, but unfortunately had also packed more than a dozen other tiny items in there as well. He quietly grumbled as he pulled things out, unable to remember why he put most of them in there in the first place. "Glasses… quills… abacus… dog food… gosh darn it, where's the light?" The second he uttered his grievance, the lights came on in the room. "Oh, that's much better." It only took him the next second to realize someone must have turned them on.

There in the doorway, out of all the women in the N.A.V.Y., was Daisy, her finger on the light switch and one hand on her pistol, ready to draw it out of its holster if necessary. Donald's breath froze in his throat, and he wondered why fate continued to use him as a punching bag. Neither duck said a word, and as more seconds ticked away, Donald understood that she wasn't going to shoot him. Perhaps she was intrigued by the mystique of a masked man. This could work out for him. Maybe, like Darkwing, he could use the charms of a vigilante hero to woo the beautiful civilian.

He could already see the future in his mind. He'd give her his name, and then gallantly leave through the window, leaving her in surprised awe. She'd try to figure out the identity of her masked hero, and they'd have many sordid meetings as they worked together to solve crimes. Her heart would be torn between choosing her fiancé, and choosing this dashing rouge. He remembered reading about a girl making out with a masked hero while he was upside down, and pondered if he could give that a shot. Then eventually, perhaps on the day of their wedding, he would reveal his identity, and she would be overjoyed to see that the two loves of her life were one and the same.

"Donald Fauntleroy Duck, what in all the seven seas are you wearing?!"

So much for that flight of fantasy. Donald fumbled, dropping everything in his hands to the floor. "What… how did you know it was me?"

Daisy pointed at his eyes, storming into the room and not letting go of her gun yet. "Your mask isn't covering anything, I can still see you! Now answer the question, along with this one – what are you doing here?"

This would be the last time Donald took fashion advice from a guy who thought being purple would scare villains. "Ummm…" How could he answer in a way that would leave him out of trouble, not enrage his girlfriend, and keep the Justice Ducks out of danger? This couldn't be solved with Eeny Meeny Miney Mo. "It's not what it looks like."

"Try again." Daisy now stood in front of him and despite being about his height, she somehow gave enough intimidation to look like she was leaning over him and glaring down at him. "You won't get a chance for a third strike."

Unable to see a way out of this sticky situation without lying to her, lest he lose a limb, he heavily sighed. "… All right, listen… have you ever heard of the Justice Ducks?" He saw a flash of recognition flicker in Daisy's eyes. "I've become a member, and I'm helping the group expose corporate corruption. I came here to make sure the N.A.V.Y. isn't involved in any suspicious money work."

Daisy furrowed her brows as memories pushed themselves forward. "Justice Ducks… I remember them from the newspapers!" Donald's heart swelled with joy, deeply relieved that he had gotten out of trouble. "They're that sexist group with that stupid Darkwing Doofus who keeps insulting the N.A.V.Y.!" Donald's heart sank and began to drown in fear. "You're mixed up in that idiotic vigilante group? Are you out of your mind?"

Despite Donald's well deserved fear of her temper, he still felt justified in his quest, and knew if he could just explain things properly, Daisy would understand. "Okay, Darkwing's views on girls aren't exactly up to date, but he's a good guy, and this is a good group! We're doing the work you can't. You wouldn't believe some of the stuff we've already uncovered."

"You're right, I don't believe it." Daisy began poking him in the chest with every word, almost sending him backwards. "Do you understand how much trouble you put yourself in? If anyone but me found you, you'd be arrested! Do you know what that would do to your family?" Then her pokes became harder as she understood past grievances clearer. "Is this why you've been canceling our dates?!"

"It was for a good cause!" Donald tried to move away from Daisy's finger as he was starting to get the feeling she was bruising him. "This is the only job I've ever been good at! You'll see, in a little while we're about to expose-"

"Stop it!" Daisy grabbed Donald by the wrist to keep him in place. "This isn't a job! This is… madness!"

"Madness?" Though Donald loved Daisy dearly, his pride was just as important as she was, and she was startling to trample on it. "This… is… my life! I know what I'm doing! I'm helping people, I'm doing the things you can't!"

"Because the things you're doing are illegal! And I'm not going to have my fiancé breaking into buildings just to make himself feel important!" She made a grab for his mask, and tried to yank it off. "Now go home and don't you ever do this nonsense again!"

He could only be pushed so far, and without making a conscious thought to do so, he suddenly smacked her hand away from his mask. "And since when do you care what your fiancé' does?" His anger overrode his sense, and in an effort to salvage his pride, he turned defensive and offensive at the same time. "You're on some other guy's arm every other weekend! Your room is filled with gifts from men! Am I just supposed to ignore it all? It's not fair!"

Daisy's cheeks grew hot from humiliation and embarrassment. Much like Donald, she refused to admit her own faults, and went on the attack instead. "That's… that's completely different! Don't change the subject!"

"Stop telling me what to do! You lost that right when you started seeing those men!" As his temper flared, Daisy lost her power of intimidation over him, and now they both glared at each other with previously untapped resentment. "This is my life, and I'll do what I want! You can't just start suddenly acting like you care about me when your precious reputation is in danger!"

"It's not every girl's dream to marry a criminal!" It was taking all of Daisy's strength not to pull out her pistol. "You can't talk to me this way!"

"Maybe you don't have to worry about marrying a criminal anymore!" Donald whipped around and began heading back to the damaged window, reaching out to grab the rope.

"Fine with me!" Daisy stomped her foot on top of the glass circle, smashing it into pieces. "I hope you get arrested! Maybe Donna will bail you out, but I won't!"

For the shortest of moments, Donald stopped when he heard that. Rope still in his hands, he glanced back at Daisy, wondering why she had said that. Love briefly flickered in his heart, wanting to clear up any misconceptions she had about his relationship about Donna. However, seeing hate still erupting in her eyes, the flicker was snuffed out, and he resumed climbing out of the window. He'd hold off trying this investigation path, as he knew his anger wouldn't allow him to concentrate. It was best to go home and stew over what had happened.

Daisy continued to glare at the space where Donald once was, almost wishing he was still there for she still had much more to yell at him about. It wouldn't be until much later that night, far long after she had cleaned up the glass and replaced the window before anyone could find out what had happened, that she truly understood what she had yelled at him. Often in the worst fits of anger, things are said without meaning in order to get the most pain out of the one angered at. When she realized the power and implications of what she had screeched, she fell to her knees, and sobbed long into the cold night.

~*~

A few days after seeing Horace in the hospital, Minnie, Clarabelle, and Daisy met with Amelia to discuss what had happened. Amelia admitted that she had ordered the girls to look into Mortimer's finances, but so far they had found nothing unusual. Minnie was slightly upset that she hadn't been a part of the search, and insisted that she try and confront Mortimer personally about it. She felt that maybe Mortimer would be more open to his fiancé. Amelia allowed this, but also ordered that Clarabelle go with her should things get hostile.

As the two headed to Mortimer's mansion, Minnie longed for a chance to be promoted to a higher rank more than ever. Walking in a skirt in cold wind was sure to lead to catching a cold. She tried to distract her mind from the cold, nearing Mortimer's mansion as she and Clarabelle were on the sidewalk. She looked up at her taller friend, and once more tried to step on unwanted territory. "So… are we still not going to talk about you and Horace?"

Like every other time Daisy and Minnie had prodded Clarabelle about this subject this week, Clarabelle's chin went straight up and her limbs became mechanical, moving slowly and with the least amount of motion. "There is absolutely nothing to talk about! Except the fact there's nothing to talk about. Do you want to talk about nothing? Because we can talk about nothing. Nothing is grand. I like nothing." And just like every other time the girls had brought him up, Clarabelle had wound up talking complete babbling nonsense.

Still, Minnie gave the talk her best effort, opening the large black gates that stood before Mortimer's home. "This wasn't the first time we all thought Horace wouldn't recover, but you didn't act like this when his back was injured at the royal wedding. What makes this different?"

"Nothing makes it different!" Clarabelle looked like a windup toy soldier as she kept her arms and legs impossibly straight as she walked. "Horace and I are still the same! Nothing's changed! Our friendship didn't change! We're the same as ever! I like the same things! Aren't same things wonderful? Same is a great word!" Minnie thankfully gave up any further attempts when they reached his front door. Minnie needed Clarabelle to act professionally, instead of the disturbing doll she was so intent on becoming.

Minnie only needed to ring the doorbell once before the door opened. Typically one of Mortimer's many butlers would have greeted them and allowed them inside, so Minnie was faintly surprised to see Mortimer standing there instead. "Welcome, ladies! Always glad to see you stop by." He stepped aside to let them in, and closed the door once they entered. Minnie found the house strangely quiet as typically there was the hustle and bustle of servants or his snobby rich friends parading around. Mortimer took Minnie by the arm and walked further into the house with Clarabelle following. "I admit, I was surprised to get that call from your captain. She must really be bored if she needs to look through my boring paperwork."

"She's just doing her job." Minnie said gently, knowing she needed to play up to Mortimer but at the same time couldn't let Amelia go without defending her. "And it probably won't take long at all. Better safe than sorry."

"What a job!" Mortimer shook his head, and clicked his tongue to his large teeth in disapproval. "Married, and with a kid on the way, and she's still working for the N.A.V.Y.? What kind of woman is that? You got to feel bad for that husband of hers. If I were him, I'd take some command over my wife, let her know who wears the pants in the family."

Minnie and Clarabelle exchanged a look of distaste, but by this time Clarabelle had managed to get her act together. "If we could stick to the subject at hand, please? We just need to look over everything you've purchased this past year, and how your income is working."

Was it Minnie's imagination, or was Mortimer sweating? With such cold weather these days, he didn't have a physical need to be. Come to think of it, the house was chilly on the inside too, as if he hadn't put the heat on. "Why don't we have some lunch first? I just got some tea imported from Japan, great stuff."

"Maybe later." Minnie squeezed Mortimer's arm in a small sign of discipline, hoping she could make it clear that they wouldn't be swayed from their task. "We really need to see your finances first."

"Oh, relax, we'll get to it, eventually." Mortimer tried to lead Minnie toward one hallway, but Minnie had been over enough times to know that wasn't where his office was. "You should come and see these new paintings I got, all the way from America."

Minnie tugged Mortimer the correct way, knowing where his important papers would be held. "Mortimer, we can look at them later, we really need to do our job right now!"

Mortimer reluctantly allowed Minnie to drag him the right way, but he wouldn't go down quietly. "What's the big deal? You don't need to do it perfectly, you'll be leaving it soon enough. Then you can relax here with me. You can take care of the kids, and rub my back after I've had a long day. Isn't that better than running around after pirates and going through boring paperwork?"

It physically pained Minnie to not roll her eyes. If Mortimer could learn to keep his bigoted opinions to himself, maybe he could be easier to tolerate. She and Clarabelle bit their lips in order not to bait him any further. When they reached his office, Mortimer broke off his hold with Minnie, and stood in front of the door, blocking them from entering. "Do we really have to do this right this second? It's… a real mess in there."

"Mortimer, I've had enough stalling!" Minnie put her hands on her hips, and Clarabelle smirked to see Minnie taking charge. "This is official N.A.V.Y. business, and if you have a problem with it, you're free to take it up to one of our Captains. But right now, we can't go back and tell them we didn't do our jobs because of a dirty office. Now, please, step aside so we can get this over with."

Mortimer could see no way out of this. Swallowing hard, he took his time to twist the doorknob, and carefully glance inside. His eyes widened, and then he slammed the door, clutching his chest in fright. "You can't go in there."

"What's the problem this time?" Clarabelle stood by Minnie's side, matching her crossed arms and annoyed expression. "Too many dust bunnies? I'm sure we can leave that out of the report."

Mortimer shook his head rapidly, trying to keep his voice in a low whisper. "Pirates."

"For goodness' sake!" Minnie headed for the door, shoving Mortimer aside. "That's the silliest excuse I've heard yet. We're going through your finances thoroughly whether you like it or not!" She grabbed the doorknob, and slammed the door open. His office was very dirty and disorganized, and she could spot a few dust bunnies here and there. There were also pirates from Mickey's crew tearing the place apart in order to find anything of value. At the same time, she could hear Mortimer's windows shattering, and could feel the rumbling of footsteps, signaling that even more pirates were invading the house to rob it. Minnie stood there, watching the chaos unfold. "… My apologies, Mortimer." She slammed the door closed, trying to form an idea. "Clarabelle, get Mortimer out of here, call for back up, and I'll go find Mickey to put a stop to this!"

Ignoring the fact that Mortimer had already started running for his life and abandoning the girls, Clarabelle began reaching for her pistol. "Are you nuts? Don't you remember what Captain Amelia said? If you go after Mickey again, she'll throw you out of the N.A.V.Y.!"

"She's not here." Minnie decided to take out her sword instead. "Just trust me."

"Minnie, have you noticed that every time you try to use a loophole, it doesn't work out?!"

Actively avoiding Clarabelle's common sense, Minnie opened the door yet again, and closed it behind her. She quickly locked the door to prevent Clarabelle interrupting her, and she then shouted the name of the first pirate she recognized. "Peggy Sue?"

Peg had been tipping over Mortimer's gigantic desk when her despised full name was used. "It's Peg! Just Peg!" The tactic worked, getting her attention, and she looked down at the little private. "Oh, it's you, the Captain's…" She paused, remembering the rumors had gone throughout the ship. As far as everyone knew, she was no longer Mickey's anything. "… Yer the little private."

"Minnie." She pointed her sword at Peg, threatening her directly. "And I demand you capture me and hold me hostage aboard your ship!" This got the attention of the rest of the robbers, staring in bewilderment at the odd demand.

Peg blinked, unsure if she heard correctly. She looked to her fellow pirates, who merely shrugged. "… Never a dull moment when Mickey's in charge, I'll give him that."

~*~

That same time, another moment lacking dullness was occurring at Magica's home. Her three remaining scientists were huddled around her closed bedroom door, not knowing what to make of the situation. They were the Fearsome Four, though with the death of Bushroot they had spent a good portion of time trying to come up with a new nickname for themselves. The best they had come up with so far was the Terrible Trio, and it just didn't carry the same sting.

"What if she dies?" The one who asked that, Elmo Sputterspark, didn't sound at all concerned with his employer's mortality. Another balding scientist, his concerned was with where his money and projects would go if he had no order to give him orders anymore. "What do we do? We were on the edge of some real breakthroughs, and then she collapses? The nerve of some people."

"Knowing that greedy old witch, she probably didn't think to leave anyone in her will to inherit this place." This one was named Quackerjack, and only Quackerjack, as he refused to answer to his given name. His eccentrics were allowed due to all the great work he could bring to the table. "But you have to admit, it was pretty cool the way her eyes glowed purple and she fell over in a screaming heap." She grinned with teeth too large for his beak, and twisted his fingers against his head. "Maybe she's lost her last marble!"

"Three out of three scientists agree!" Bud Flood was the youngest of the geniuses, but was in some ways stranger than the rest of them. Due to a longing for media spotlight, he typically spoke in advertisements, and many employees placed bets to see how long someone could talk to him before they felt a need to tell him to stop doing that. "When maniacal business women glow purple and faint, it's a sign that something big is going down. Could it be related to the crystal? Stay tuned to find out!"

"Stop doing that!" Elmo had lost five Euros in saying that but it was worth it."And of course it's related to the crystal, they glowed the exact same color. I was the one who told her that using it too much would warp her mind, but why listen to me? I'm just a brilliant scientist!" He would have loved to rant and rave about how he was right and everyone else was wrong, but the door began to creak open. All three men jumped in their shoes, and felt a flood of fear as Magica stood in the doorway.

They should have felt relieved when they saw she didn't look angry. Yet their terror still remained, as instead of anger, there was a distorted pride shining in her eyes. Add in the fact that her eyes were literally shining, and they found themselves drenched in worry. With a wild grin, Magica spoke calmly to them, raising a beckoning hand towards them. "Gentlemen… I know exactly what destiny has laid out before me."

End Of Chapter Twenty-Six.

Description
It was too late, and the pistol was fired. Ortensia started to scream, but it quickly began to die, unlike Mickey. The angle of the shadow pointing a gun at his head had turned out to be a trick of the light, and Mickey was actually shooting empty bottles off the top of his desk. Mickey, sitting on his chair with his feet up on the desk, looked over at the stopped screamer. "What?"

Ortensia grabbed her chest in an effort to make her heart stop beating so rapidly. '"Y-Ye… big idiot! Ye gave me the biggest scare!" Mickey shrugged it off, and shot another bottle, shattering it into pieces. Ortensia smoothed her outfit down, and walked into the room, leaving Oswald to watch in the doorway. "What are ye doin'?"

"Shootin' bottles." Mickey felt no need to explain it any further than that. There was no hint of sarcasm or mockery in his voice. There was nothing in his voice at all, just a dead tone that elicited no emotion. He simply spoke, and that was all.

Ortensia carefully walked towards him, wincing when he fired off another shot. "… Mickey, we gotta talk. Ever since the apartment job, ye've been in a big slump. We don't even leave the docks anymore. It's been forever since ye've given anyone a job ta do. Yer worryin' the crew." He wouldn't look at her, so she put a hand on his shoulder. "Pete's been goin' on about takin' over the ship. What's gotten inta ye?"

Oswald shrugged from his place at the door. "He's probably still upset that he broke things off with Minerva."

Mickey's lip twitched for half a second, giving Ortensia confirmation. "What!" She looked back and forth between Mickey and Oswald, unsure of who to ask first, but settled on Oswald. "How would ye know about that?"

"I asked." Oswald shrugged again, deciding for Ortensia's sake he wouldn't point out the obvious fact that many of Mickey's emotions were tied to Minnie. "Besides, remember what Mirage said? As long as they were together, both of their lives were in danger. He probably ended it to keep her safe." He saw it as a noble action, but he'd need that pistol pointed between his eyes before admitting anything nice about Mickey.

Ortensia turned her attentions back to Mickey, elated by the news. "It's about time! We all knew it wasn't meant ta be. Now ye can focus back on the job, and maybe find yerself a nice lass." She leaned in close to his face, hoping he'd get the hint. "Who knows, maybe she's closer than ye think."

Mickey still kept his eyes straight forward, shooting one more time. "… I'm outta bottles."

Faced with his stoicism, Ortensia threw caution, and a good part of her dignity, to the wind. She sat down on Mickey's lap, and threw her arms around his neck. "I know it hurts now, Mickey, but you'll get over her. Ye need a girl who understands ye." She laid her head on his chest, purring to his heart. "Someone who's on yer side. Someone ye've always known. Someone who will always be there for ye." Oswald could easily see all of the flirting, but he wasn't as jealous as he used to be. By now, he understood Mickey and Ortensia's unusual relationship, and knew Mickey could only see her as a sibling and nothing more. There was nothing to be jealous over. It was just a matter of waiting for her to give up.

Mickey pulled the trigger on his gun only to hear empty clicking. "… I'm outta bullets."

Ortensia ground her teeth, and glared up at Mickey, her nails beginning to dig into his clothes. "Have ye been listenin' to a word I've said?"

Even Mickey's blinking looked forced. "… I'm outta rum."

Ortensia's hissed through closed teeth, sitting up straight and looking Mickey directly in the eyes. "Ye… Ye… big, stupid…" If Ortensia joining the crew didn't work, if pretending to like Oswald didn't work, and if straddling him and saying lines that were too cheesy for a harlequin romance novel didn't work, then Mickey was giving her very few options to work with. Years of rejection and frustration with obliviousness burst inside of her, and in a move that she knew she would regret later, she grabbed him by the jacket and forced her mouth on top of his.

Oswald knew he had nothing to be jealous about, but just because you know something doesn't mean you have complete control of it. "Hey, hey, hey!" He speedily ran into the room with the intention to rip Ortensia off of Mickey, but he didn't have to go so quickly. In that same shocked instant, Mickey's eyes regained their lively color, and he fumbled to take her by the arms and push her off. Startled, Ortensia haphazardly fell backwards and off the chair, right into Oswald's open arms.

Mickey scrambled to get out of his chair, and as he wiped his mouth with the back of his arm, his voice was rife with emotions once more. "Wha… what was that?!" Emotions such as confusion and disgust, for example.

Ortensia didn't know which was more insulting – that Mickey was so shocked, or that he kept rubbing his mouth over and over as if Pete had just tried to lay one on him. "Whaddya think! I… I love ye, Mickey!" She shoved Oswald away for her, able to stand on her feet and proudly proclaim her affections. "I've always loved ye, Mickey! Ye should've been with me all this time, I'm the one who really cares about ye!"

Mickey began preferring being heartbroken and acting on the smallest of thoughts than to be faced with this out of nowhere proclamation. "… What? Really?" It was unfathomable. Ortensia was talking nonsense. She was his sister, she couldn't possibly love him more than as a brother. It didn't make any sense at all. Why should she feel any different than he did to her?

"Why do ye think I've been lookin' fer yer ship all the time?" Ortensia balled up her fists, demanding that Mickey understand and accept her feelings. "Why do ye think I hate Minnie so much? All those times I followed ye around, sat in yer lap, call ye sweet names, and crawled inta yer bed, what did ye think I was doin'?"

"Quick question," Oswald interrupted, lightly tapping Ortensia on the ear. "Why is it whenever I do any of those things, you call me a stalker and slap me?" Judging by Ortensia's raised hand, she was ready to do exactly that.

"Aye, what about him?" Mickey pointed his empty pistol towards Oswald, eyebrows raised as the contradictions piled up inside his head. "Thought ye were marryin' Oxford over here?"

"Oh come on, now you're not even trying to get my name right!"

Ortensia jabbed her elbow into Oswald's ribs in an effort to shut him up. "I was only doin' that ta make ye jealous! Ye've always been the one fer me, Mickey!"

"But…" Mickey felt dizzy, and went to his bed to sit down. This was too much for him to take all at once. He was now forced to look at every moment he had with Ortensia in a new light, and it made him deeply uncomfortable. She was trying to ruin the family he had always assumed would stay the same. "But yer me sister…"

"Not by blood!" She tried to approach the bed, but Mickey jumped up, and began backing away further. Ortensia's despair at his horror made her temper reach new heights. "Yer actin' like I got a disease! Can't ye at least gimmie a chance?"

"A course not!" Mickey leaned back on his headboard, creeped out by the idea that Ortensia might try to kiss him again. "This is… it's just weird! It ain't right! It's like Oswald kissin' his brothers!"

"Thanks for that image." Oswald mumbled, still reeling from his aching ribs, kneeling on the floor.

Ortensia could have kept screaming about her love for Mickey, and she could have listed all the lifetime examples in which the love should have been obvious. Yet as she watched his eyes and saw nothing of her reflected in them, she knew any further fighting was pointless. Minnie or not, Mickey couldn't see Ortensia as anything but his little sister. She had even managed to blur that precious line, and changed the way he understood her. She had longed to make him think differently of her, and now she had gotten it in the worst way. Tears altered her vision, and a lump in her throat made it difficult to lash out her typical insults. "Stu… Stu…" She couldn't finish it, for Mickey wasn't being stupid. It had been her, all along.

Thoroughly embarrassed and humiliated, Ortensia fled the room, covering her face with her hands to hide herself from the rest of the crew. Oswald mentally made a note to himself to check on her in a few moments, once he was sure she wouldn't stab him. He stood up and watched Mickey climb off of the bed. "Feeling better now?"

Mickey didn't answer him because he wasn't sure. It would be easy to slip back into the nothingness and let apathy control him, but thanks to Ortensia's announcement, his emotions were dominant. "I dunno." He scratched his head, and caught sight of Oswald's sympathy. It irked him to have pity, and he held his head high. "… I mean... I'm fine. I can get over her. No, I mean, I am over her. Definitely." He crossed his arms and tapped his pistol to his side. "Everyone wants me ta be captain again? I can do that. I'm all ready. We can set sail right now."

Oswald's skepticism dripped as he spoke. "Is that so? What's the next job?"

Mickey said the first name that came to mind. "Mortimer Rodawn." He paused, and then nodded, deciding that was as good as anybody. "We're gunna go ta his place and rob him until there's nothin' left."

"Minnie's fiancé." Oswald felt he needed to state the obvious, since it was looking like the obvious was not Mickey's specialty. "We're going to go rob the guy who is marrying the girl you just dumped. That's not getting over her."

"Sure it is." Mickey refused to change his mind, and marched toward the door, ready to announce the plans to the rest of the crew. "I can still hate him." He didn't need to love Minnie to still want to drive Mortimer to the depths of poverty. Why, they were totally disconnected things. The fact that if they took every single coin away from Mortimer would mean her parents would no longer want Minnie to marry him was just a coincidence. He would take no satisfaction in driving those two apart and laughing in Mortimer's face. By the way, he felt like he was forgetting something important. Wait…

Oswald rolled his eyes once he made sure Mickey couldn't see it. Times like this made Oswald feel like he was the smartest person on this ship. But a blow to his ego came when a literal blow to his head occurred, when Mickey threw his gun at Oswald. "When did ye crawl inta Ortensia's bed?!" Mickey's announcement to the crew would have to wait until after he was done chasing Oswald all over the ship.

~*~

Summer was taking its leave, and fall brought an early chill. Donald shivered as a cold wind blew, but he did his best to put the weather out of his mind. He needed all of his concentration to scale this building and dying due to shivers was the last thing he wanted. In his continued investigation of Magica and her company, he decided to explore the angle that money could buy. Perhaps money could pay these groups to look the other way when she did illegal activities, or even worse, bribe them to help her. Everyone knew that both the A.R.M.Y. and the N.A.V.Y. owed a lot to the richest members of society, and that they obeyed more orders to the highest bidders than to the government. Donald needed to see if Magica had ever stuck her fingers in either group, just so he could make sure his loved ones were in less danger. That night, with a worn out rope, he was climbing up the N.A.V.Y. headquarters, a tall blue building that commanded respect to anyone who gazed upon it.

It probably would have helped his search if he knew where they kept their financial records. As it was, he was playing guessing games by peering into the darkened windows. Darkwing Duck may have been a master sleuth, but PK the Avenger was still trying on the ropes, both figuratively and literally. He could feel the rope giving way, and if he didn't want to become a stain on the sidewalk, he would have to make a choice of window to enter right then and there. After a quick game of Eeny Meeny Miney Mo, he chose the window in front of him. Darkwing had taught him about the important of a utility belt, so Donald managed to extract a tiny glass cutting knife from his belt, and cut out a circle large enough for him to fit through.

When the cut was finished, he lightly tapped on the circle, and it fell through. He managed to catch it before it could hit the ground, and then carefully slid himself into the room. He placed the glass circle aside on the floor, and let go of the rope. The room's lights were off, so it wasn't easy to tell what kind of room he was in. He could faintly make out desks and stacks of papers, so his first guess was an official office. It wouldn't be a stretch to say that financial records could be found in a place of paperwork like this, so Donald felt proud in his decision.

Reading any of these documents would be impossible in this darkness, so Donald began fishing in his belt again. He knew he had packed a tiny flashlight in there, but unfortunately had also packed more than a dozen other tiny items in there as well. He quietly grumbled as he pulled things out, unable to remember why he put most of them in there in the first place. "Glasses… quills… abacus… dog food… gosh darn it, where's the light?" The second he uttered his grievance, the lights came on in the room. "Oh, that's much better." It only took him the next second to realize someone must have turned them on.

There in the doorway, out of all the women in the N.A.V.Y., was Daisy, her finger on the light switch and one hand on her pistol, ready to draw it out of its holster if necessary. Donald's breath froze in his throat, and he wondered why fate continued to use him as a punching bag. Neither duck said a word, and as more seconds ticked away, Donald understood that she wasn't going to shoot him. Perhaps she was intrigued by the mystique of a masked man. This could work out for him. Maybe, like Darkwing, he could use the charms of a vigilante hero to woo the beautiful civilian.

He could already see the future in his mind. He'd give her his name, and then gallantly leave through the window, leaving her in surprised awe. She'd try to figure out the identity of her masked hero, and they'd have many sordid meetings as they worked together to solve crimes. Her heart would be torn between choosing her fiancé, and choosing this dashing rouge. He remembered reading about a girl making out with a masked hero while he was upside down, and pondered if he could give that a shot. Then eventually, perhaps on the day of their wedding, he would reveal his identity, and she would be overjoyed to see that the two loves of her life were one and the same.

"Donald Fauntleroy Duck, what in all the seven seas are you wearing?!"

So much for that flight of fantasy. Donald fumbled, dropping everything in his hands to the floor. "What… how did you know it was me?"

Daisy pointed at his eyes, storming into the room and not letting go of her gun yet. "Your mask isn't covering anything, I can still see you! Now answer the question, along with this one – what are you doing here?"

This would be the last time Donald took fashion advice from a guy who thought being purple would scare villains. "Ummm…" How could he answer in a way that would leave him out of trouble, not enrage his girlfriend, and keep the Justice Ducks out of danger? This couldn't be solved with Eeny Meeny Miney Mo. "It's not what it looks like."

"Try again." Daisy now stood in front of him and despite being about his height, she somehow gave enough intimidation to look like she was leaning over him and glaring down at him. "You won't get a chance for a third strike."

Unable to see a way out of this sticky situation without lying to her, lest he lose a limb, he heavily sighed. "… All right, listen… have you ever heard of the Justice Ducks?" He saw a flash of recognition flicker in Daisy's eyes. "I've become a member, and I'm helping the group expose corporate corruption. I came here to make sure the N.A.V.Y. isn't involved in any suspicious money work."

Daisy furrowed her brows as memories pushed themselves forward. "Justice Ducks… I remember them from the newspapers!" Donald's heart swelled with joy, deeply relieved that he had gotten out of trouble. "They're that sexist group with that stupid Darkwing Doofus who keeps insulting the N.A.V.Y.!" Donald's heart sank and began to drown in fear. "You're mixed up in that idiotic vigilante group? Are you out of your mind?"

Despite Donald's well deserved fear of her temper, he still felt justified in his quest, and knew if he could just explain things properly, Daisy would understand. "Okay, Darkwing's views on girls aren't exactly up to date, but he's a good guy, and this is a good group! We're doing the work you can't. You wouldn't believe some of the stuff we've already uncovered."

"You're right, I don't believe it." Daisy began poking him in the chest with every word, almost sending him backwards. "Do you understand how much trouble you put yourself in? If anyone but me found you, you'd be arrested! Do you know what that would do to your family?" Then her pokes became harder as she understood past grievances clearer. "Is this why you've been canceling our dates?!"

"It was for a good cause!" Donald tried to move away from Daisy's finger as he was starting to get the feeling she was bruising him. "This is the only job I've ever been good at! You'll see, in a little while we're about to expose-"

"Stop it!" Daisy grabbed Donald by the wrist to keep him in place. "This isn't a job! This is… madness!"

"Madness?" Though Donald loved Daisy dearly, his pride was just as important as she was, and she was startling to trample on it. "This… is… my life! I know what I'm doing! I'm helping people, I'm doing the things you can't!"

"Because the things you're doing are illegal! And I'm not going to have my fiancé breaking into buildings just to make himself feel important!" She made a grab for his mask, and tried to yank it off. "Now go home and don't you ever do this nonsense again!"

He could only be pushed so far, and without making a conscious thought to do so, he suddenly smacked her hand away from his mask. "And since when do you care what your fiancé' does?" His anger overrode his sense, and in an effort to salvage his pride, he turned defensive and offensive at the same time. "You're on some other guy's arm every other weekend! Your room is filled with gifts from men! Am I just supposed to ignore it all? It's not fair!"

Daisy's cheeks grew hot from humiliation and embarrassment. Much like Donald, she refused to admit her own faults, and went on the attack instead. "That's… that's completely different! Don't change the subject!"

"Stop telling me what to do! You lost that right when you started seeing those men!" As his temper flared, Daisy lost her power of intimidation over him, and now they both glared at each other with previously untapped resentment. "This is my life, and I'll do what I want! You can't just start suddenly acting like you care about me when your precious reputation is in danger!"

"It's not every girl's dream to marry a criminal!" It was taking all of Daisy's strength not to pull out her pistol. "You can't talk to me this way!"

"Maybe you don't have to worry about marrying a criminal anymore!" Donald whipped around and began heading back to the damaged window, reaching out to grab the rope.

"Fine with me!" Daisy stomped her foot on top of the glass circle, smashing it into pieces. "I hope you get arrested! Maybe Donna will bail you out, but I won't!"

For the shortest of moments, Donald stopped when he heard that. Rope still in his hands, he glanced back at Daisy, wondering why she had said that. Love briefly flickered in his heart, wanting to clear up any misconceptions she had about his relationship about Donna. However, seeing hate still erupting in her eyes, the flicker was snuffed out, and he resumed climbing out of the window. He'd hold off trying this investigation path, as he knew his anger wouldn't allow him to concentrate. It was best to go home and stew over what had happened.

Daisy continued to glare at the space where Donald once was, almost wishing he was still there for she still had much more to yell at him about. It wouldn't be until much later that night, far long after she had cleaned up the glass and replaced the window before anyone could find out what had happened, that she truly understood what she had yelled at him. Often in the worst fits of anger, things are said without meaning in order to get the most pain out of the one angered at. When she realized the power and implications of what she had screeched, she fell to her knees, and sobbed long into the cold night.

~*~

A few days after seeing Horace in the hospital, Minnie, Clarabelle, and Daisy met with Amelia to discuss what had happened. Amelia admitted that she had ordered the girls to look into Mortimer's finances, but so far they had found nothing unusual. Minnie was slightly upset that she hadn't been a part of the search, and insisted that she try and confront Mortimer personally about it. She felt that maybe Mortimer would be more open to his fiancé. Amelia allowed this, but also ordered that Clarabelle go with her should things get hostile.

As the two headed to Mortimer's mansion, Minnie longed for a chance to be promoted to a higher rank more than ever. Walking in a skirt in cold wind was sure to lead to catching a cold. She tried to distract her mind from the cold, nearing Mortimer's mansion as she and Clarabelle were on the sidewalk. She looked up at her taller friend, and once more tried to step on unwanted territory. "So… are we still not going to talk about you and Horace?"

Like every other time Daisy and Minnie had prodded Clarabelle about this subject this week, Clarabelle's chin went straight up and her limbs became mechanical, moving slowly and with the least amount of motion. "There is absolutely nothing to talk about! Except the fact there's nothing to talk about. Do you want to talk about nothing? Because we can talk about nothing. Nothing is grand. I like nothing." And just like every other time the girls had brought him up, Clarabelle had wound up talking complete babbling nonsense.

Still, Minnie gave the talk her best effort, opening the large black gates that stood before Mortimer's home. "This wasn't the first time we all thought Horace wouldn't recover, but you didn't act like this when his back was injured at the royal wedding. What makes this different?"

"Nothing makes it different!" Clarabelle looked like a windup toy soldier as she kept her arms and legs impossibly straight as she walked. "Horace and I are still the same! Nothing's changed! Our friendship didn't change! We're the same as ever! I like the same things! Aren't same things wonderful? Same is a great word!" Minnie thankfully gave up any further attempts when they reached his front door. Minnie needed Clarabelle to act professionally, instead of the disturbing doll she was so intent on becoming.

Minnie only needed to ring the doorbell once before the door opened. Typically one of Mortimer's many butlers would have greeted them and allowed them inside, so Minnie was faintly surprised to see Mortimer standing there instead. "Welcome, ladies! Always glad to see you stop by." He stepped aside to let them in, and closed the door once they entered. Minnie found the house strangely quiet as typically there was the hustle and bustle of servants or his snobby rich friends parading around. Mortimer took Minnie by the arm and walked further into the house with Clarabelle following. "I admit, I was surprised to get that call from your captain. She must really be bored if she needs to look through my boring paperwork."

"She's just doing her job." Minnie said gently, knowing she needed to play up to Mortimer but at the same time couldn't let Amelia go without defending her. "And it probably won't take long at all. Better safe than sorry."

"What a job!" Mortimer shook his head, and clicked his tongue to his large teeth in disapproval. "Married, and with a kid on the way, and she's still working for the N.A.V.Y.? What kind of woman is that? You got to feel bad for that husband of hers. If I were him, I'd take some command over my wife, let her know who wears the pants in the family."

Minnie and Clarabelle exchanged a look of distaste, but by this time Clarabelle had managed to get her act together. "If we could stick to the subject at hand, please? We just need to look over everything you've purchased this past year, and how your income is working."

Was it Minnie's imagination, or was Mortimer sweating? With such cold weather these days, he didn't have a physical need to be. Come to think of it, the house was chilly on the inside too, as if he hadn't put the heat on. "Why don't we have some lunch first? I just got some tea imported from Japan, great stuff."

"Maybe later." Minnie squeezed Mortimer's arm in a small sign of discipline, hoping she could make it clear that they wouldn't be swayed from their task. "We really need to see your finances first."

"Oh, relax, we'll get to it, eventually." Mortimer tried to lead Minnie toward one hallway, but Minnie had been over enough times to know that wasn't where his office was. "You should come and see these new paintings I got, all the way from America."

Minnie tugged Mortimer the correct way, knowing where his important papers would be held. "Mortimer, we can look at them later, we really need to do our job right now!"

Mortimer reluctantly allowed Minnie to drag him the right way, but he wouldn't go down quietly. "What's the big deal? You don't need to do it perfectly, you'll be leaving it soon enough. Then you can relax here with me. You can take care of the kids, and rub my back after I've had a long day. Isn't that better than running around after pirates and going through boring paperwork?"

It physically pained Minnie to not roll her eyes. If Mortimer could learn to keep his bigoted opinions to himself, maybe he could be easier to tolerate. She and Clarabelle bit their lips in order not to bait him any further. When they reached his office, Mortimer broke off his hold with Minnie, and stood in front of the door, blocking them from entering. "Do we really have to do this right this second? It's… a real mess in there."

"Mortimer, I've had enough stalling!" Minnie put her hands on her hips, and Clarabelle smirked to see Minnie taking charge. "This is official N.A.V.Y. business, and if you have a problem with it, you're free to take it up to one of our Captains. But right now, we can't go back and tell them we didn't do our jobs because of a dirty office. Now, please, step aside so we can get this over with."

Mortimer could see no way out of this. Swallowing hard, he took his time to twist the doorknob, and carefully glance inside. His eyes widened, and then he slammed the door, clutching his chest in fright. "You can't go in there."

"What's the problem this time?" Clarabelle stood by Minnie's side, matching her crossed arms and annoyed expression. "Too many dust bunnies? I'm sure we can leave that out of the report."

Mortimer shook his head rapidly, trying to keep his voice in a low whisper. "Pirates."

"For goodness' sake!" Minnie headed for the door, shoving Mortimer aside. "That's the silliest excuse I've heard yet. We're going through your finances thoroughly whether you like it or not!" She grabbed the doorknob, and slammed the door open. His office was very dirty and disorganized, and she could spot a few dust bunnies here and there. There were also pirates from Mickey's crew tearing the place apart in order to find anything of value. At the same time, she could hear Mortimer's windows shattering, and could feel the rumbling of footsteps, signaling that even more pirates were invading the house to rob it. Minnie stood there, watching the chaos unfold. "… My apologies, Mortimer." She slammed the door closed, trying to form an idea. "Clarabelle, get Mortimer out of here, call for back up, and I'll go find Mickey to put a stop to this!"

Ignoring the fact that Mortimer had already started running for his life and abandoning the girls, Clarabelle began reaching for her pistol. "Are you nuts? Don't you remember what Captain Amelia said? If you go after Mickey again, she'll throw you out of the N.A.V.Y.!"

"She's not here." Minnie decided to take out her sword instead. "Just trust me."

"Minnie, have you noticed that every time you try to use a loophole, it doesn't work out?!"

Actively avoiding Clarabelle's common sense, Minnie opened the door yet again, and closed it behind her. She quickly locked the door to prevent Clarabelle interrupting her, and she then shouted the name of the first pirate she recognized. "Peggy Sue?"

Peg had been tipping over Mortimer's gigantic desk when her despised full name was used. "It's Peg! Just Peg!" The tactic worked, getting her attention, and she looked down at the little private. "Oh, it's you, the Captain's…" She paused, remembering the rumors had gone throughout the ship. As far as everyone knew, she was no longer Mickey's anything. "… Yer the little private."

"Minnie." She pointed her sword at Peg, threatening her directly. "And I demand you capture me and hold me hostage aboard your ship!" This got the attention of the rest of the robbers, staring in bewilderment at the odd demand.

Peg blinked, unsure if she heard correctly. She looked to her fellow pirates, who merely shrugged. "… Never a dull moment when Mickey's in charge, I'll give him that."

~*~

That same time, another moment lacking dullness was occurring at Magica's home. Her three remaining scientists were huddled around her closed bedroom door, not knowing what to make of the situation. They were the Fearsome Four, though with the death of Bushroot they had spent a good portion of time trying to come up with a new nickname for themselves. The best they had come up with so far was the Terrible Trio, and it just didn't carry the same sting.

"What if she dies?" The one who asked that, Elmo Sputterspark, didn't sound at all concerned with his employer's mortality. Another balding scientist, his concerned was with where his money and projects would go if he had no order to give him orders anymore. "What do we do? We were on the edge of some real breakthroughs, and then she collapses? The nerve of some people."

"Knowing that greedy old witch, she probably didn't think to leave anyone in her will to inherit this place." This one was named Quackerjack, and only Quackerjack, as he refused to answer to his given name. His eccentrics were allowed due to all the great work he could bring to the table. "But you have to admit, it was pretty cool the way her eyes glowed purple and she fell over in a screaming heap." She grinned with teeth too large for his beak, and twisted his fingers against his head. "Maybe she's lost her last marble!"

"Three out of three scientists agree!" Bud Flood was the youngest of the geniuses, but was in some ways stranger than the rest of them. Due to a longing for media spotlight, he typically spoke in advertisements, and many employees placed bets to see how long someone could talk to him before they felt a need to tell him to stop doing that. "When maniacal business women glow purple and faint, it's a sign that something big is going down. Could it be related to the crystal? Stay tuned to find out!"

"Stop doing that!" Elmo had lost five Euros in saying that but it was worth it."And of course it's related to the crystal, they glowed the exact same color. I was the one who told her that using it too much would warp her mind, but why listen to me? I'm just a brilliant scientist!" He would have loved to rant and rave about how he was right and everyone else was wrong, but the door began to creak open. All three men jumped in their shoes, and felt a flood of fear as Magica stood in the doorway.

They should have felt relieved when they saw she didn't look angry. Yet their terror still remained, as instead of anger, there was a distorted pride shining in her eyes. Add in the fact that her eyes were literally shining, and they found themselves drenched in worry. With a wild grin, Magica spoke calmly to them, raising a beckoning hand towards them. "Gentlemen… I know exactly what destiny has laid out before me."

End Of Chapter Twenty-Six.