Return of the King... of Pals (Quest)

[Mickey Mouse]

“I’ve got to reiterate that this is a bad idea.”

“And that’s why you aren’t goin’, pal,” Mickey Mouse shrugged, tugging the brown robe’s hood over his head. He scowled for a moment as he fussed to get his ears to fit beneath it, then turned back to Blues. The sight of the preteen machine — still torn up and pretty dang broken — shot a pain through the mouse’s heart, which was why he was super glad he had other business to attend to.

After the death of the parademon, Mickey and his whole crew had been picked up by a neat-looking periwinkle helicopter claiming to be emissaries of the Wondertainment Toy Company, and then that same helicopter pilot had agreed to come on temporarily to pilot the Spaceboat Willie to this weirdo desert disc planet. The mouse king had seen their ads around the Imagen Nation, and remembered the wild errand they sent him off to deliver the Squee Squee practically across the galaxy. He felt like he was understandably wary of them, despite feeling pretty thankful that they’d managed to snatch them out of the Uncanny Valley in a pinch.

That said, in this moment, he had to find an ally, and someone he couldn’t fully trust was a risky endeavor. He still knew diddly squat about Darkseid — other than his penchant for sending creepy, slime-mouthed parademons to the various planets of the Crossroads to impose his bidding — but he knew the fella was trying his darndest to spread darkness over the galaxy, and well… he couldn’t have that. So in the absence of someone with resources he trusted on Nos’talgia, he’d turned to the next obvious source.

Blues had not been pleased.

“Okay, well, when the people of Uruk run you out of there with torches and pitchforks, don’t come crying to me,” the cyborg boy quipped. He tried to shrug, but his busted up joints betrayed him. He winced in pain as they sparked and surged, forcing him to lay back down on the workbench.

“Don’t worry,” Mickey frowned, “I won’t.”

The pair exchanged a glance, and both knew this was just the further widening of the rift between them. Despite everything they’d been through together in the old place, Mickey still desired, above all, to trust people. Since Dante’s Abyss, his tendency to trust others until they gave him a reason not to had only grown, boosted in no small part by the mistakes he’d made previously in this area. It was only after sitting down and talking to the gilded king of Uruk, getting to know him on a level that he’d never even considered, did he find out he’d been wrong not to trust him in the first place. He’d sworn to himself to try to approach everyone he met with that same kindness -- and if, then, they betrayed it, he’d deal with them as necessary.

The door to the rinky-dinky Karim repair shop they’d ended up in swung open, bell dingling to announce the entrance of Argyle. The mouse king and his cyborg compatriot turned their gazes to her, awaiting her update.

“You’d be surprised,” she started, “at how difficult it is to find a hospital here that doesn’t look like it’s breaking about a thousand health and safety regulations.” She adjusted the goggle-glasses on her noses and huffed a bit. “Nevertheless, everyone is accounted for. We found a place to patch up Crush and the Sarge.”

Mickey smiled; some good news, finally. The weird flying alien dude -- a Toy-something or other -- that had agreed to work on Blues’ injured exoskeleton and make sure his mainframe was up to snuff had been sketchy enough. He was glad they’d managed to stumble upon some sort of place that could help the Sqwid Sqwad get back in working order, and soon. “So I guess that means you’re with me?” the mouse asked with a grin.

“Me and Orphie,” the Inkling nodded, smiling. “They’re waiting outside with the two speeder bikes we rented out.”

“Nice,” Mickey flashed two thumbs up, “we should get goin’ then, huh?”

The hooded mouse swept past Argyle and out into the bustling streets of Karim. What passed for the ‘capital’ of this planet, Mesa Roja, greeted him with overwhelming heat and a sense of crowdedness and claustrophobia that deeply unnerved him. This place wasn’t as upbeat or happy as most of Nos’talgia, for sure. On the baseline, Mesa Roja seemed much more down and dirty, much more entrenched in some sort of under-the-surface warfare that Mickey couldn’t quite suss out. It was clear none of the fellas on this planet had any plans to let Darkseid supersede whatever issues they were already trying to work out.

Then Gilly’s my best bet, Mickey knew, pulling his tiny magic mirror from the inside pocket of his robes and summoning the King of Heroes’ message up onto the surface: Of course, you are welcome to visit my grand city of Uruk whenever you are available.

Mickey couldn’t wait to find out if Uruk was really as ‘grand’ as his new buddy described… and to be honest, if he’d be allowed in at all. He knew they’d jumped dimensions since the Proto Mouse had wreaked its havoc on the last city, but who was to say whether everyone in the new Babylonia would be as forgiving as their king was?

He shook his head. No reason to stress about all that now. There were more important things happening in the universe than the squabbles and disputes that riddled his history with the people of Uruk, so even if they didn’t want to see him, he would do what he could to make amends and make this shiznit work. And with that determination burning his little mouse noggin, he jumped onto one of the speeder bikes and revved it up. The Squee Squee chirped as it skedaddled out of one of his pockets and took a seat on the front console of the vehicle.

Onward, to Gilgamesh!

Quest: The Greatest Show (Babylonia Faction Quest)
Mickey Mouse
Post WC: 1005 (according to Google Docs)
Quest WC: 1005/5000 (according to GDocs)

 

[Mickey Mouse]

Uruk appeared on the horizon within a matter of hours, and with it, memories flushed back into Mickey Mouse’s noggin about his last excursion to one of Gilgamesh’s city-states.

In the grand scheme of his very long life, it hadn’t been altogether that long since he and Blues had scurried through the streets of Nippur, trying in vain to atone for the pain they had unwittingly caused the city and its residents. The Proto Mouse team reckoned for a long time with the implications of their actions whilst under the manipulation of the sinister Sinestro; in some ways, Mickey felt he still had much work to do in that regard. Even as he and Gilgamesh’s relationship had begun to repair itself, visions of their climactic battle above the crumbling, golden city replayed again and again in his mind -- along with more than one nightmare about the twisted, demonic King of Heroes that had emerged from banishment, a punishment he’d handed out with his own, gloved fingers.

Even here, in this new universe, the mousy hero felt the twinge of obligation to make up for these past mistakes. He knew, deep down, he would never be perfect, and to wish upon a star for that would be a wasted wish. Nevertheless, he’d truly never seen his own power utilized in such a destructive way before the Battle of Nippur, and when he’d seen what state he’d left the Babylonians in, he’d made a vow never to harm a community like that again. He would be more discriminating in his actions, think longer and harder about what to do.

At least, that’s what he promised himself. He knew he still had the tendency to be impulsive, but at least now, with that experience coded into his very essence, he felt like his radar for what the ‘right thing to do’ was had significantly improved. And the sight of a new city like Uruk, still in the midst of being born, signified an opportunity to really, really try again -- and be better this time.

The city itself left him speechless. Even though its incredibly high walls eclipsed most of Uruk’s actual interior, enough seemed to still be in the midst of construction that he could peek at the extravagance. As he, Argyle, and Orphie slowed their speeder bikes and approached the gates, he chuckled a bit; this level of opulence and strength was exactly what he’d come to expect from the King of Heroes. Certainly, Gilgamesh hadn’t disappointed when he’d put the… Syntech contractors to work building this city.

The mouse’s brow scrunched a little as he noted the purple-uniformed construction workers piddling around the outer gates of the city. He supposed he didn’t have much room to talk, seeing as he was bopping around the galaxy in a spaceboat constructed with Karl Jak’s blood money, but he nevertheless hoped the insidious producer wasn’t planning on ever using the city’s construction against his new pal. Galaxy to galaxy, universe to universe, the one consistent thing Mickey had found was that Karl Jak was always up to something sneaky, and just the sight of the Syntech logo set off plenty of alarms inside his head.

Nevertheless, even he had to admit that Karl’s resources might be useful in these circumstances, if the purple-suited player was even aware of Darkseid’s invasion of the Crossroads. He’d file that away for later, though, because now, the front gates to Uruk were upon them.

“So, your friend lives here?” Argyle said, sidling up beside the mouse king as they parked their speeders just outside the gate.

“Not just lives here,” Mickey replied. “He’s, uh… kinda the ruler. The king, y’know.”

Argyle turned toward the diminutive leader of their trio, eyes a little bit wider than normal beneath her goggle-glasses. “Really?” she asked, and Mickey nodded. “Wow, shoot. That’s neat. And you think he’ll help us out with Darkseid?”

Mickey sighed. He truly didn’t know the answer to that one. He trusted that this new Gilgamesh, the one he’d gotten to know all too well on Karl Jak’s island, would be able to see the greater good here -- would realize that the safety of the galaxy and everyone in it, including the people of Uruk, depended on this fight. He depended on the King of Heroes to know that this battle was more important than any they’d fought in their long, long lives. But he also knew that the blonde young man sometimes had more trouble grasping the big picture than he himself did.

It was fair -- since he’d been snatched over the old place, Mickey had hardly had actual responsibilities weighing on him. Sure, he sometimes felt like the fate of the universe rested on his shoulders, but that was a far different feeling than being directly responsible for the well-being of a freakin’ city full of people. Gilgamesh had real, tangible things he had to worry about every day, and the mouse king knew from his own experience lording over a realm how that could cloud the ol’ noggin.

Nevertheless, he hoped and prayed Gilgamesh would see this big picture. This was too important.

Mickey turned to Argyle. “He has to.”

Quest: The Greatest Show (Babylonia Faction Quest)
Mickey Mouse
Post WC: 864 (according to Google Docs)
Quest WC: 1869/5000 (according to GDocs)

 

[Mickey Mouse]

“Not here?! What the heckskies do you mean he’s not here?!”

The shimmering gates to Gilgamesh’s palace rose behind a member of his kingsguard who stared down at the diminutive monarch with an apologetic but largely sour expression. The majesty betrayed Gilly’s brilliance for design, but learning that he was absent ignited a frustration inside the mouse king he didn’t often let shine through. Noting their captain’s decided shift in mood from the perennial optimism he usually displayed, Argyle and Orphie shifted uncomfortably behind Mickey Mouse as he stepped back, slightly aghast, from the golden-armored guard.

Mickey took her in. She was, all things considered, exactly the type of protection he assumed Gilly would afford himself. She stood almost twice the mouse king’s own height -- short compared to the other guards perhaps, but nothing to shake a stick at. Blonde hair cascaded out of the golden circlet wrapped around her head, not tied in any particular fashion but free-flowing for the most part. She seemed equal parts gorgeous and badass, and somewhere deep inside his noggin, Mickey could tell this woman would probably be an absolute monster on the battlefield.

“Yes, I’m afraid His Majesty is… unaccounted for at the moment,” the muscular woman continued, with a nod. Mickey’s face grew visibly impatient. He didn’t have time for Gilly to be ‘unaccounted for’, goshdangit!!

“Unaccounted for?” he gaped. “As in you don’t know where he is? What type of royal guard are ya, pal?!” The mouse was fully aware that he must’ve sounded like he was trying to exert authority he didn’t have here. Still, as someone who had been a king for quite some time, he felt like he had some knowledge of how, exactly, a king’s guard was supposed to conduct themselves.

That being said, he also knew that he himself had absconded more than a couple of times right under his protectors’ noses. The very last time, in fact -- the fateful journey into space when he’d been knocked off course and squarely into his first alternate dimension -- he’d left with no warning, leaving just a small note for Donald and Goofy to find. He was sure Minnie hadn’t taken that well, just as he wasn’t taking the absence of Gilgamesh from his throne room well. He resolved to calm the heck down.

“I…” the guard stammered, wholly unsure of how to respond to the two-foot-three affront to her authority. Down below, Mickey swallowed his pride.

“I apologize,” he bent his head in a small bow, “that was uncalled for, pal. Could ya do me a solid and let His Majesty know I was here, seeking an audience, when he happens to return?”

The guard’s shoulders seemed to relax at this. “Of course, Master Mouse. I’d be glad to.”

“Nice,” Mickey forced a smile, “and please let him know that it’s pretty heckin’ urgent. Like, galactic safety style urgent, okay?” He quirked a brow at the guardswoman, who nodded back her understanding.

And just like that, he was turning to go. He wondered if his frustration truly was evident -- he didn’t want to wait to talk to Gilly about this. After all, he already felt like time was against them. Even now, as he putted around the streets of Uruk trying in vain to find the King of Heroes and enlist his assistance in seeking out and putting down further parademons… he knew Darkseid wasn’t just waiting around. He knew the evil guy must be slinking around the shadows, gathering forces and preparing for further, even bigger assaults on the Crossroads.

He’d managed to put a pause on those plans on Nos’talgia, but for how long?

Just as he reached Argyle and Orphie and made to disappear back into the crowd, a hand on his shoulder stopped him in his tracks. He turned to look up at the now kneeling guardswoman. “Master Mouse, I just have to say,” she started, “it’s quite an honor to meet you, and I will do my best to deliver your message.”

Mickey blinked. “An honor to meet me, pal?” he squeaked. “You know who I am?”

“Oh, yes, of course,” the woman nodded excitedly. “I mean -- not many here in Uruk know of your exploits with the king on Dante’s Abyss,” she started. “Mesa Roja is… not a world known for its widespread wealth, so access to the types of devices that carried that programming was limited. But I come from better stock, and I watched every moment of your adventures on the island with His Majesty. You’re a true hero, Master Mouse, and I couldn’t be more pleased to make your acquaintance.”

This time, a real smile curled onto the mouse king’s face and he reached out and placed a gloved hand on this woman’s shoulder in kind. “Pleasure’s all mine, pal,” he grinned with a wink. “What’s your name, bud?”

“Oh, my name?” the guard chuckled a little. “I’m Gaga.” She flipped her hair ever so slightly, and Mickey giggled along with her.

“Well, Gaga, it’s been swell,” he said. “I have no doubts that you bring much honor to yourself with your protection of the King. Give our message to Gilly -- er, His Majesty?”

“Of course, sir,” she replied.

And with one last smile, Mickey Mouse spun on his heel and motioned to Argyle and Orphie. With the two Inklings close behind, he disappeared into the crowd, leaving Gaga to only watch behind them in awe. As he wove through the legs of the people of Uruk, he knew what she said was true: few people in this city had any clue who he was. Surprisingly enough, he found himself marginally thankful for that; at the very least, he’d have an easier time maneuvering here than he did in Nippur, where it seemed like everybody and their brother not only recognized him but also wanted his head on a spike.

Nevertheless, the anonymity did little to solve his current problem: galvanizing the galaxy to fight back against the Fallen Arbiter. That conundrum would require… well, it’d require some thinkin’, to be sure.

He thought and thought and thought about it as he and his squidly compatriots made their way back to the small inn they’d rented a room at for the evening. He didn’t plan on staying in Uruk long, but he also wasn’t trying to take speeder bikes back to Karim after dark -- there was no telling what types of nasty folks crept through the desert at nighttime. If this place was anything like the last one, he had a feeling they’d be unsavory characters at the very least.

As they neared the humble establishment, the sky turned a blistering burnt orange, and shimmers of sunlight reflected off the Syntech-branded scaffoldings embracing a building just across the street from their temporary abode. The purple-and-silver metallic skeleton encased what, otherwise, seemed to be a pretty blank wall, on a pretty nondescript building. The mouse king idly wondered if Gilly had any plans to adorn other buildings in Uruk with as much splendor and spectacle as the palace was destined to have.

He lifted his head up and blinked.

Maybe good ol’ Gaga had sparked a little idea in his ol’ cranium after all.

Quest: The Greatest Show (Babylonia Faction Quest)
Mickey Mouse
Post WC: 1204 (according to Google Docs)
Quest WC: 3073/5000

 

[Mickey Mouse]

For a few hours, Mickey Mouse and his squidly compatriots simply rested their laurels inside the Babylonian inn. He would’ve liked to have seen the sights of Uruk, but his sentimental side hoped to save the grand tour for a time when he could be shown around by the King of Pals himself. Wherever Gilgamesh was, it just didn’t feel right to Mickey to be touring his city without the gilded king by his side.

But besides that -- though he was, indeed, very sentimental and felt very strongly about getting Gilgamesh to show him around, like true buds would -- fighting a parademon made a mouse tired, and he still hadn’t exactly caught up on his sleep. And if he was planning on being up the majority of the night to put this idea into motion, then he’d need to catch some zzz’s now instead of later. Luckily, the inn’s room was perfectly set up for a little afternoon snooze, and so he managed to get a few hours clocked in before, at last, it was time to wake up and burn the midnight oil.

He awoke with a start, still buzzing about the little idea that had bitten him hours before, and rushed to get dressed again and wake up the members of the Sqwid Sqwad that had joined him in Gilgamesh’s city. Orphie had always seemed the night owl, so they didn’t make much of a fuss, but Argyle found herself embittered by the idea of being up so late from the moment she’d been woken even into the midst of the work itself.

“So, what exactly is it you want, then?” Argyle asked snarkily, whisper-shouting down from her perch at the top of the scaffolding. From where Mickey Mouse stood on the ground below, he could clearly see the sneering scowl she threw his direction, but not much else. He placed a hand over the top of his eyes, trying to key in on the details shrouded by the shadow of the huge building before him. The moonlight blocked by the huge tower, it was honestly kinda hard for him to see what Argyle and Orphie were painting with their big ink guns -- and, therefore, hard for him to creative direct as efficiently as he wanted.

“This gun, you see, isn’t the best tool,” Orphie said from a lower scaffolding, “to create an image that’s… well… cool.” They held up their ink guitar, particularly unsuited for this sort of detail work, and shrugged.

Mickey sighed, and leapt off the ground up onto the metallic structure embracing the large tower. This side of the building was free of windows and other interruptions, so it mostly existed just as a long, blank wall, the perfect canvas to impose a mural on and really get a message across.

A message that was… well, direly important. Somehow, he needed Gilgamesh and all the citizens of this city to have some warning about Darkseid, about the parademons, about this whole… Unmaking shiznit. It wasn’t just going to go away, and although he’d managed to slay one parademon and its army of weird twisted creatures with nary but a couple of friends to help out, he knew that wasn’t going to always be the case. Undoubtedly, if Darkseid even cared enough to hear about one of his goons kicking the bucket, he would just send someone or something even stronger to Nos’talgia next time. And Gosh only knew how the other planets in the Crossroads were faring, right?

The two Inklings were right, though -- the circumstances weren’t ideal. He obviously couldn’t create any sort of masterpiece in the light of day, when Babylonians filtered to and fro through the streets beneath them. But also… this street wasn’t really well lit enough to accomplish anything in the dead of night. He pressed a gloved hand to the wall, hoping that, just perhaps, the limestone and bricks of the tower might impart some sort of plan onto him. The Squee squirmed out of his jacket pocket and leapt up onto his shoulder, staring intently at the tan structure. Mickey glanced over at the little creature, wondering if its gaze was trying to discern something that would help him, too.

The Squee was… a curious creature, for sure. It had somehow managed to remain nearby his person and remain completely unscathed during the climactic battle with the parademon, something he and Blues hadn’t even been able to manage. He supposed its small size might’ve been helpful, but even still -- Mickey half-expected it to have emerged from the conflict completely squashed. Instead, it had bounced around the actual warzone that had inflicted significant damage on the Proto Man and banged himself up pretty bad. He’d been lucky the doctors of the Imagen Nation had been able to patch him up relatively quickly!

Blues, however, hadn’t been quite so lucky. The parademon had practically ripped and torn him to shreds during the fight, and he hadn’t had a strange glowing green orb to imbue him with a mysterious, intense power and push the battle over the edge. He’d needed further help, but luckily had been able to manage while they traveled here. If Mickey could’ve healed him with the power of friendship, he certainly would have.

Wait, the mouse’s eyes opened wide as a thought dinged inside his head.

“Where’s my brush?” the little king called up.

“What?” Argyle whisper-shouted back.

“My brush! The special one!”

“Oh,” the lavender-colored Inkling nodded, reaching into the duffel bag of supplies she’d carried up the scaffolding with her. “Uh, here!”

She held the magic paintbrush over the edge, and dropped it. Mickey leaned back, stretching out his arm and barely managing to snatch the brush out of thin air. He steadied himself on the platform, and closed his eyes, thinking hard about the image that just blasted into his brain. He felt his spine shiver, and his whole being start to be enveloped in the artistic implement’s weirdo magic aura. Once again, almost as he had at the wall of the Imagen Nation and then again in the forest clearing when he’d met the Sqwid Sqwad for the first time, he almost… fell away from himself. The only thing he could feel was the brush’s tip touching the hard limestone of the empty wall.

When he awoke again, it wasn’t blank anymore.

***

The sun rose on Uruk just a few hours later, and with it, Mickey Mouse’s masterpiece was unveiled.

Citizens paused in the street as they walked to their jobs. Syntech employees, recognizable thanks to just how draped they were in Karl Jak’s signature deep purple, froze, and those who remembered the events of the summer stifled smirks and scowls at the image they saw before them.

For his part, Mickey Mouse sat on the roof of the inn, across the busy marketplace from the tower his mural now graced the side of. He took it in, truly seeing it for the first time. He couldn’t explain the strange little trance the magic paintbrush put him in, but he knew he hadn’t really been in control of the brushstrokes while he was making them. And between that hypnotic state and the dark of the night, it’d been hard to make out and judge the final product.

Before him, broken up by scaffoldings which still wrapped around the tower, a picturesque scene played out. A sundrenched forest clearing illuminated two figures sitting up against trees -- one, small, diminutive, with perfectly round ears, and the other, tall and majestic with glittering golden armor. He stared as a perfectly captured memory of he and Gilgamesh on the island watched over the citizens of Uruk, its pure detail and vibrant colors catching the eyes of any passersby. It wasn’t a flawless painting, as far as the craft itself went, and certainly wouldn’t cause much of a fuss in the town at large, but it was bright and big, and hard to miss for those in this marketplace. For Mickey’s part, he was amazed at just how accurate it was; whether or not each rock and blade of grass was painted skillfully, they were all there, exactly as he remembered them.

He wasn’t exactly sure how the paintbrush had managed it, but it was almost as if it has sucked the memory out of his noggin and just slapped it on the side of that building.

Perhaps, then… it would be enough to let Gilgamesh know that he’d been here. Maybe, just maybe, the King of Pals -- or someone, anyone in this town -- would be able to discern that once again, the mouse king was in need of his former rival’s help.

That once again, they’d have to all work together to survive this heckin’ stuff.

He closed his eyes, and let out a deep sigh. It seemed like so long ago that he and Gilgamesh had sat on the grass of the Recreation Dome, before they’d both been cast out of the old place. It seemed so long since he’d let his little tune escape his little lips, but in this moment, something compelled him to sing it again.

“When you wish upon a star…
Makes no difference who you are…”

The notes drifted out of him, high pitched but not shrill, warbling but not offkey; his heart beat fast and proud, and peeking out of his pocket, the Squee climbed up and nuzzled his neck. Even the little guy could feel the emotion swelling inside of the little mouse’s body.

Mickey didn’t notice at first, but the passersby who’d stopped to stare at the mural’s eyes had shifted… to him. They looked up at him, transfixed by the small, anthropomorphic mouse sitting on the edge of a nearby rooftop. This creature that matched exactly the one they saw now splayed across the side of a building here in their town. This… little guy. This… what was he to them? A friend? Hardly. He was unknown.

When the mouse king’s eyes opened and he saw the crowd, he felt himself shrivel. The last time he’d had the attention of any number of Babylonians, it certainly hadn’t been a good thing. He couldn’t be too careful this time, either -- he might be buddies with Gilgamesh these days, but other Babylonians still existed that hated his guts, right? Like, where was Victor Wolfy or any of the other crew that had vowed vengeance? Surely if Gilly had started his kingdom anew, they wouldn’t be far behind.

He still had a lot of work to do.

He let the song’s chorus waver away, and then smiled down at the crowd before scurrying up to the top of the roof and sliding down its other side.

Within a half-hour, he’d managed to make his way, wrapped in his hooded brown cloak, unnoticed back to the gates and his parked speeder bike. Argyle and Orphie had already taken off, back towards Karim, back towards Blues and the other Sqwid Sqwad, back towards the Spaceboat Willie and yet another adventure.

As he straddled the speeder bike’s seat, he chuckled a bit. Would there ever not be yet another adventure?

He glanced up at the great walls of Uruk one more time, then kicked his ride into gear. He may not have gotten to see his friend, but somehow, he still felt the emotional fruits of that friendship showering over him. He felt, somehow… in the midst of all this darkness… good?

With friends like his, he kind of hoped adventure would always come a-callin’.

***

He was seconds away from speeding off into the sunset when he heard his name.

“Master Mouse,” the familiar voice of Gaga called from the gates.

Mickey quieted down the speeder bike’s engine, and glanced around at the golden-armored woman. He slid off the vehicle’s seat at the sight and bobbed towards her. Shockingly enough, her formerly blonde mane was now… pink? He smiled and giggled a bit, pointing up at her. “You changed your hair!”

“And you changed a wall,” she crouched down to meet him. “It’s not polite to point, Master Mouse.”

The mouse gulped, and grinned as innocently as he could.

“...am I in trouble?”

Quest: The Greatest Show (Babylonia Faction Quest)
Mickey Mouse
Post WC: 2031 (according to Google Docs)
Quest WC: 5104/5000

QUEST DONE!