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Emerald and Brian were still searching the grounds. Their conversation had picked up after it turned out that they were following the wrong Mickey Mouse – as they’d quickly learned, there was more than one Mickey wandering around the park at any time. Emerald found herself even more amazed at how much of a gentleman Brian was as they continued to talk, but after they had gone some time without noticing any suspicious activity, she began to wonder if they were even looking for the right sort of behaviors. That was, until they found themselves in the middle of Adventureland.

“Hey,” she said to Brian as she stuck out her arm to stop him mid-stride. “Check that out.” She nodded towards Jafar, who was shouting at a few children who were tugging at his costume.

“Get away, you little brats!” Jafar shouted, one hand on the parrot on his shoulder and the other swiping at the children at his feet.

“Jafar in Adventureland?” Brian questioned. “You’re right, that is suspicious.”

“Hmm, I was actually just gonna say he looks like he’s too short for his costume, but I like your answer better,” Emerald replied as they made their way over to Jafar.

Dr. Rough, still frustrated by the crowd of children screaming at him, looked up as Dr. Twitches squeaked frantically on his shoulder. He saw Donald and Daisy Duck pushing through the crowd to get to him and quickly shoved away the two children tugging at his arms and darted off.

“Looks like he’s definitely making a run for it,” Emerald confirmed, pulling out a gun she had concealed and beginning to fire at Dr. Rough.

“What are you doing?!” Brian shouted as Emerald’s bullets narrowly missed the innocent tourists.

“I’m trying to stop the bad guy from running away, so we can catch him easier!”

“Well it’s not working!” Brian countered. “All you’re doing is putting everyone in danger!” Just then, he spotted a ride he knew they could use to their advantage. Luckily, their “Jafar” was heading straight for it. “Come on, I have a plan.” He nodded towards the ride and pulled Emerald along with him so they could approach it from the other side.

Dr. Rough laughed to himself as he looked back and noticed he was no longer being chased, not realizing he’d been pushed into the middle of the line for one of the most popular rides in Disney World: The Mad Tea Party, commonly known as the “spinning teacups.” He tried to move against the crowd and escape, but it was no use as he was forced onto the ride and landed himself in one of the teacups, next to a couple of young children.

“Are you sure this can work?” Emerald said as they heard the ride operator instructing the ride’s passengers on the safety rules.

“Only one way to find out…” They hid near the control panel, waiting until they heard the ride operator return and the machinery spark to life before they set to work. Emerald helped Brian open the back of the control panel, then leapt up to try and distract the ride operator with small talk, pretending to be one of his coworkers, all while Brian plucked a few wires out of the control circuit and rearranged them in what he could only hope were the correct places he needed them. Peering up to watch the results of his work, Brian saw that it was a success.

Dr. Rough screamed at the top of his lungs as the ride moved faster and faster. It didn’t help his nerves that the children sitting next to him were shouting and laughing and using the pole in the middle of their teacup to make the ride spin more and more. He clutched Dr. Twitches tightly as his stomach churned wildly, and the ride continued to pick up speed.

“So, when did you say your break was again?” the ride operator asked Emerald with a wink. Before she could come up with an answer, though, his expression turned serious, and he began to fumble with the controls in front of him. “That’s not right… The teacups are moving three times as fast as they should be! No wait, four times as fast as they should be! I need to stop this ride right now and call maintenance…”

Emerald took the opportunity to sneak away from him unnoticed, as she was sure he would call security once he saw that the back of his control panel had already been opened and the wires were tampered with. She found Brian waiting on the other side of the ride, watching closely as people exited the ride. “That kid’s gonna figure something out soon; we better go before we get busted,” Emerald reported.

“But he hasn’t gotten off the ride yet,” Brian replied.

“He will, but we can’t catch him if we get caught first, so come on!” she urged, pushing Brian to move through Fantasyland.

Moments later, a nauseated Dr. Rough emerged from the ride and immediately ran towards the nearest trash can, pushing the headdress of his costume higher on his head as he practically threw himself inside of the trash can to throw up.


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Donnie adjusted his costume as he stared up at Space Mountain. The helmet was a little too much for his shoulders to carry comfortably. And earlier, some children had popped the metal wings from his back and asked if he was going to try flying. It was a nerve-wracking experience!

He started wringing his hand nervously. This was his chance to show his master that he really was trustworthy. He alone was the best guard for the bomb – and he would make sure Dr. Rough knew that.

Donnie then ducked behind a post just as some children passed by. Now was not the time to risk socializing with children. He turned his head slightly and saw a nubile girl poke her head out of the nearby entrance to the Utilidors. He gave her a wink.

The young actress tossed her red hair slightly and smiled back at him.

Donnie turned his head back to Space Mountain. This was his chance to prove his worth to his master! ... But this girl….

She winked at him.

“Spread out! We’ll keep them from getting close to it!”

Donnie turned to see more of Dr. Rough’s minions nearing the ride. Well, if they were there, perhaps it wouldn’t hurt…

He strolled over to the Utilidor entrance. “You know, it’s dangerous for Disney princesses to be in Tomorrowland…”

The redhead ran her hand over her shell bra. “Wouldn’t you like to show me Prince Charming of the future?”

A large grin spread across Donnie’s face. He turned back toward the door and then slipped his hand around the girl’s waist.

“I hear there’s a grotto with your name on it, Mr. Lightyear.”

A smile crossed Donnie’s face again. Let the lesser minions guard the bomb; women were the perks of being a top-ranked minion.


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Only the security cameras wired among the bare pipes and fluorescent lights that ran along the ceiling of the Utilidors saw a disoriented Jafar stagger down the steps, into the stark, gray world of poured concrete built beneath the Magic Kingdom – and no one was monitoring those.

No, security in the Utilidors was the last in the long list of concerns which had been growing over the last couple of days. Disney’s behind-the-scenes personnel were too preoccupied with puzzling over the disturbing weather patterns – which followed no logical pattern at all – and the sudden surge of energy being burned by Space Mountain. Even the reports of strange behavior by Mickey Mouse were, for now, being cast aside; after all, they had no way of knowing which Mickey was acting up (there were so many of them!), and probably it was just a disgruntled employee releasing some pent-up rage over spending forty hours a week in a giant mouse costume. Once the strange weather stabilized and they sorted out the electrical problems in Tomorrowland, they would turn a watchful eye upon Fantasyland. Even then, no eyes would be watching the activity in the Utilidors too closely.

And so, no one noticed as Dr. Rough leaned back against the concrete wall, his hand pressed weakly to his churning belly, Jafar’s turban leaning crookedly upon his head. Even after throwing up, he still felt nauseous, too nauseous even to feel enraged that he had been forced onto a teacup that spun too fast by a couple of cartoon ducks, who were not what they seemed. He knew by the way Daisy Duck had wielded that gun that she was no Disney cast member. She and her partner were agents, like the others his minions had alerted him to. Agents of what? The FBI? No... an FBI agent would get canned for firing a weapon in the middle of a crowd at Disney World, especially without being attacked first. Only agents of Himitsu Takana would be that reckless, that daring, for they didn’t have the U.S. government to answer to.

HimTak. Could it be? Had the meddlesome agency really tracked him here, to Disney World, where he had tried so hard to stay undercover? The thought made him even more nauseated.

“They won’t stop us,” he whispered to Dr. Twitches, petting the quivering ferret in maniacal strokes. “If they try, I’ll have Donnie detonate the bomb early. They will be too late, and it will be all their fault. Their fault…” His spastic eye fluttered as he struggled to regain his composure. He would need to have his wits about him, a clear head, if he was to change plans and strike early.

But first, he needed to sit down. There was no furniture in the Utilidors, not even concrete benches, but there were a couple of battery-powered carts parked here. They looked something like golf carts, but the Disney people called them pargos. He climbed into one of them now and slid down in the seat, resting the back of his head against the cool plastic.

He shut his eyes for a moment. His stomach was beginning to settle now that he was resting, here in the quiet, air-conditioned sanctuary of the Utilidors. He would be content never to see Fantasyland again, with its bright light and unbearable heat, its shrieking brats, and those ungodly spinning teacups. He would give the order to detonate the bomb from down here, watch the park’s destruction on the security monitors, and emerge only once his work was done, when there were no more HimTak agents or children to get in his way.

The thought had no sooner crossed his mind than he felt Dr. Twitches’ body stiffen upon his shoulder, the ferret’s claws digging into his flesh like needles. He winced, then tensed himself, as he heard the doors to the Utilidors open and two pairs of footsteps descending the concrete steps. He shifted silently in the seat, reaching for the gun stowed beneath the folds of his black robe.


± ± ±


Donald Duck held hands with Daisy as he pulled her down into the Utilidors. As soon as the door had shut behind them, he dropped her hand and pulled off his own head, and then he was Agent Brian Littrell again, sighing as the relief of the air conditioning met his perspiring skin.

Emerald may have spent most of her time in the desert of Nevada, but he wasn’t used to the sweltering heat, and the drifts of unnatural snow on the ground were useless. The snow wasn’t even cold. He would know: he had scooped up a handful to shove down the front of Emerald’s costume, once they were safely hidden from the teacup ride operator. She hadn’t even winced, just smacked him. Thankfully, her Daisy Duck gloves were good and padded.

She removed the gloves and her mask as well, shaking out her mane of dark hair. “Whew,” she sighed. “There may be snow out there, but it’s as hot as a fucking crotch. And humid too. Ick.” She drew her hand across her sweaty forehead, then wiped it off on her costume. “And let me tell you, those stupid gloves make it pretty damn hard to pull the trigger on a gun.”

“You shouldn’t have pulled the trigger at all!” Brian exclaimed, looking at her incredulously, as his mind rewinded back to the scene in Fantasyland. He had blocked it out until now, when they were alone and could talk freely. “What were you thinking, firing your gun in the middle of the Magic Kingdom?”

“I was thinking a bullet to the leg would take ol’ ‘Jafar’ down, and then we could get to the bottom of the freaky shit that’s been happening at this place. That’s what I was thinking,” Emerald fired back hotly.

“I understand, but… someone could have been hurt. Or killed! A child could have been killed!” He could feel his eyes bugging out of their sockets as he stared at her. Even flushed and wearing a giant duck suit, she was a beautiful woman – beautiful, and a little frightening. Now that the adrenaline had retreated from her system, didn’t she feel some remorse over her rogue actions?

“Chill, Donald.” No. No, she didn’t. She was being sarcastic again. “I’m a far better markswoman than you know. I wouldn’t have hit a kid, even with those stupid gloves on. I would’ve gotten him, if you hadn’t interfered.”

“Emerald!” Brian paused, frowned, and cocked his head at her. “Say, what’s your real name, anyway?”

“Summer.”

“Really?” That surprised him. “You don’t look like a Summer.”

She shrugged. “Hence why I’m called Emerald Ecstasy.”

“Yeah, that name does suit you better.” He swallowed, tearing his gaze away from her green eyes. “But…” He refocused. “Summer! You didn’t hit him, and you almost hit a bunch of tourists. I had to do something!”

“All you did was let him get away. Though I will say, watching him spin around on those teacups was pretty funny.” Her mouth twisted at the corners. A smirk. She was amused, not irritated. The look on her face was infectious, and he cracked a smile too.

“It was pretty good,” he admitted. “His face was turning green.”

She laughed. “Don’t worry, Rok, we’ll find him. There can’t be nearly as many Jafars running around this park as there are Mickeys. Especially not little shrimpy ones like him.”

He joined in with her laughter as they rounded the corner… and stopped dead in their tracks.

Brian’s heart sank as he looked into the barrel of the gun pointing straight at him. How could he have been so stupid? He had forgotten the first lessons he’d learned in his weapons training, how to navigate corners and cover himself and his partner, and now they were both about to die for it.

The dark eyes behind the gun were fixed and crazed. One of them drooped slightly. Brian stared into those eyes, frozen in horror, and knew he was about to take a bullet for the first time.

When the gun fired, he blinked and flinched away instinctively, reaching for his own weapon, hoping he could get in a good shot before he was rendered incapable. He expected to feel the bullet tearing through his flesh, but there was no pain, and when he raised his gun to aim, he saw that his nemesis had ducked, disappearing behind the hood of the motorized cart.

The smell of gunpowder was coming from the smoking barrel he now recognized out of the corner of his eye, and he looked over in astonishment at Emerald, standing fiercely with her gun still trained on the cart. There was a small, round hole through the back of the driver’s seat.

He had to give her credit: she was a far better markswoman than he’d known. A second sooner, and her bullet would have ripped straight through Jafar’s chest. A second later, and his bullet would have discharged first.

And in the current second, he saw the barrel of the villain’s gun appear over the hood of the cart. This time, he was able to react. He grabbed Emerald, yanking her out of the way just as the gun fired. She fired another shot over her shoulder as they leaped into the other pargo.

The keys were in the ignition, and Brian, in the driver’s seat, fired up the motor and shifted the cart into gear. “Drive!” screamed Emerald, who had climbed in backwards and was on her knees in the passenger seat so that she could shoot behind them. He slammed his foot down onto the pedal, and his arm thrust out to grab hers, keeping her from launching headfirst over the back of the seat with the inertia of the sudden jerk forward.

They sped through the Utilidors, and though there were no mirrors on the cart, Brian knew the shooter was following them in his own pargo. Another set of shots rang out, but Emerald didn’t fall, and neither, apparently, did their enemy. Brian tried not to think about what was going on behind him, just concentrated on driving through the tunnel with as much speed as he could get out of the pargo and prayed the FANS agent would go down before either of them did.

“Look out!” he shouted as they hurtled through the central hub of the Utilidors, passing half-costumed Disney cast members. The staff exchanged bewildered looks, but didn’t seem to recognize the danger. In this world of make-believe in which they made their living, they must have thought the guns were just props, the cart chase just a game, a fun way to blow off steam.

Brian rounded the circuit of the Utilidors, hoping he’d gained enough ground on the FANS agent to lose him. He feared that one wrong turn would run them into a dead end, and the only way out would be up, up into the park crawling with civilians, innocent families with children. He dared to look over his shoulder, and his heart sank again: the other pargo was not far behind them, the madman driving in a frenzy, his fingers gripping the wheel like claws while his free hand wielded his weapon wildly. He wouldn’t be able to steer and aim well at the same time, but if he got in a lucky shot…

At that moment, he heard a pop, and the cart took a sudden swerve to the side. It took all of Brian’s skill to steady the wheel and keep the cart from crashing into the cement wall. He realized the back right tire had blown. A split second later, a second shot, a second pop, and the back left tire was obliterated too. There was a horrible screeching sound as the pargo bottomed out, its back rims scraping against the concrete floor, spitting a shower of sparks behind it. In desperation, Brian floored the pedal; the cart’s small motor revved, but its speed was lost. The chase was over. They were done for.

Then suddenly, a chance. As their cart lurched past a door marked Lion King Green Room, the door opened, and a whole troupe of actors, fully costumed for their stage show, paraded out into the tunnel, blocking the path of the other pargo. Brian heard the cart’s horn honking for them to get out of the way and knew the diversion would give them only seconds, but that was all they needed. He leapt out of the crippled cart, pulling Emerald with him. They could hear the FANS agent roaring in outrage as they lost themselves in the safari of animal suits and raced up a set of stairs and out into the bright, open air of the park.

Brian didn’t know where they had come out, and he didn’t stop to find out. Still holding onto Emerald’s hand, he kept running, looking for cover. A shot rang out behind them, and he looked over his shoulder: the FANS agent had ditched his pargo and was still tailing them, his black robes billowing around his ankles as he ran.

“We’ve got to get him away from here before someone gets hurt,” Brian hissed to Emerald as they ran. In his peripherals, he could see children staring at them in confusion: Donald and Daisy Duck, only partially costumed and missing their heads. Knowing that a more disturbing sight was on its way – a dangerous one, at that – Brian shouted, “Hey kids, watch out for evil Jafar! Be safe and stay out of his way! Look for Aladdin instead!”

“The Hall of Presidents!” Emerald suddenly cried, pointing. “Let’s go there; no one else does!” But just as she said it, they noticed a cluster of kids in blue polo shirts and khakis being led to the attraction’s entrance. Emerald swore. “Fuck, a school group.”

“Over there!” Brian bellowed, pulling her in a different direction. They passed Peter Pan’s Flight and slipped beneath a sign that read “It’s a Small World.” The line of waiting people cried out in protest as they cut through it. “CIA!” Brian yelled, wishing he was not dressed like a duck so that he could flash his credentials at the discombobulated ride operator. “Shut the ride down; this is an emergency!”

There was no need; the gun fired again from behind, and the line scattered with a chorus of screams. The operator ducked behind his podium as Jafar darted past. The boat which had just been loaded emptied again as guests leapt out and ran in fear. Brian jumped into it. Emerald used it like a vault, springing off one of the seats and into the canal. Realizing the boat was not moving, Brian followed, and they splashed off through the shallow water, around the corner and into the ride, knowing their opponent would follow.


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