A Home for Heroes

[Mickey Mouse]

Rarely in the Omniverse had Mickey met someone smaller and more agile than he; but he had to give it to this monkey, it best him on both counts.

The sack of gold wrapped up in its grimy little paws, it sped through the streets of Nippur, weaving between the legs of the cityfolk and sliding around corners with incredible ease. After keeping chase for a while, Mickey finally felt himself begin to actually get tired—this little guy was making him sweat!

The monkey turned into an alleyway, crossing between buildings and then slipping between the ankles of a man and disappearing into a crowd of people gathered in some sort of large, open area. Mickey prepared to follow after him when suddenly, above the heads of the desolate masses, he saw an all-too-familiar shade of blue speechifying to the people. He rolled his eyes and ducked behind a nearby crate.

Kopaka.

"Oh, brother," the mouse exhaled as his gargantuan ears perked up to listen to the Toa's monologue. It seemed, by all accounts, that the creature was still after him to cash in on the Empire's bounty—even after his crew had mopped the floor with him in the Hero's Graveyard. The mouse had half a mind to reveal himself and challenge the Toa to settle his grievance, once and for all... but that urge quickly died as he once again remembered Blues was nowhere to be found. Could he beat Kopaka without the Proto Mouse? Possible. Did he want to risk it? No.

Unfortunately, the cyborg had already derailed his plans. The monkey had disappeared—

"Ow," Mickey clutched his head, glancing down at the piece of fruit that had just smashed into it. His glance tracked it back to its origin: the chimp, clad in a cute little purple vest and fez cap, sitting on a third-story windowsill across the street. Out in front of him he dangled the bag of cpins, taunting the King.

Mickey's first full glance at the little guy awakened a curiosity. Where had he seen him before? He looked suspiciously familiar, now that the mouse had taken a moment to survey him. But before he had time to think further on it, the monkey had turned and clambered up onto the rooftop, and with no other options but traveling right into Kopaka's clutches, Mickey followed, scaling the side of the building with less ease than the tinier primate.

They played cat and mouse across the rooftops of Nippur, but not for long; eventually, Gilgamesh's golden palace rose into view, and the chimp leapt off the building and over the stone walls surrounding the castle. Mickey leapt off the building, trying his best to reach the other side, but just barely missed, sliding onto the sandy ground just outside the gates. At the sight of his diminutive form, one of the guards perked up.

"Hey," he called out, alarming the mouse, "What the hell are you up to, little guy?"

"I—"

"Guard," a slimy voice called from across the road, "Is that how you treat an esteemed guest of Nippur?" Mickey glanced over his shoulder to see the same red-robed man from earlier, this time a collection of his own golden-armored bodyguards surrounding him.

"Jafar," Mickey nodded, keeping his head low and pulling his hood further over his ears. "Good to see you, sir."

"Hm, funny," Jafar smirked, "I seem to remember you struggling to communicate with my gate guards. Where's your interpreter now? Have you been practicing since we last met?" The tall, lanky man leaned over and met eyes with his much shorter conversation partner.

Mickey remained silent. He didn't know where Mireya was, truly. And he couldn't cover this up with Jafar. The jig was up and already escape plans were boiling in his head.

The guard stepped back into the discussion. "Esteemed guest, sir?"

"My guest, guard," Jafar turned his glance to the bulkier man, "and one you'll let inside the castle walls with haste. I was so hoping you would accept my invitation to come visit, little man." Mickey nodded, following Jafar's sweeping robes into the palace courtyard.

Outside the walls of Gilgamesh's not-so-humble abode, the desert was in full view; the streets were flooded with sand, and hot, arid air put an abnormal amount of sweat on the brows of the gilded king's subject. But behind these inner gates, life flourished. Greenery decked the walls and all sorts of flowers and small ponds littered the grounds. The mouse had never seen two such starkly different biomes so strikingly close to one another.

"Welcome to the palace, Mickey Mouse," Jafar smiled, gesticulating grandly at the rich structure that rose before him. At the mention of his name, the fur on the back of Mickey's neck stood up and he froze.

"You know me?" the mouse asked, fearing the worst.

Jafar chuckled. "Of course I know you," he shrugged as if it should be obvious, "You're quite the big name where I come from."

Mickey contorted his face in slight confusion before the realization dawned on him. "Oh," he said, brushing his hood down so his ears popped to life once more, "You're from the Disney Realms."

Jafar grinned. "Quite. From Agrabah."

"Are you a prime, too? Like me and Minnie?" the mouse asked.

"Ah—no," Jafar frowned, "Interesting to hear that Omni brought you and the Queen here, I hadn't heard of her arrival. But alas, he did not bring me. I'm simply a secondary, the product of someone else's creation... perhaps even yours."

Mickey didn't understand—how could he bring Jafar here if he hadn't meant to? Could secondaries just pop up if you thought about them enough? But then, he hadn't even thought about Jafar in particular. He barely remembered the guy, a minor noble from Agrabah. He had thought often if the desert city during he and Proto Man's first trip here, but did that mean he had thought enough to summon Agrabah's citizenry? If that were the case, where was the Sultan? And Princess Jasmine? The people he'd actually known.

Still, despite the hazy logic surrounding his existence, Jafar was a welcome sight. Good to have friends in a cutthroat place like the Omniverse, no matter how distantly acquainted they were. Mickey glanced up at the vizier, shooting him a smile.

"I must know what you've really returned for, Your Majesty," Jafar inquired, crossing his arms. "It can't be safe for you here—so what is it? Lose something while you and your big Prime friends were trashing the city?" That stung just a bit, and Mickey's face wrinkled a little bit at it. "Oh, no offense intended of course, Your Majesty," the vizier raised a hand defensively, "I'm merely speaking truthfully. The city is in disrepair since the Proto Mouse deposed King Gilgamesh."

"And what state was it in before?" Mickey bit back reflexively. "Gilgamesh was a tyrant who had to be stopped," the mouse argued, though in this moment he wasn't sure he believed that. He took a deep breath, trying not to get flustered. "That's why I'm here, anyway. To help the people of the city get back on their feet."

"Hard to do from your position," Jafar observed, "Seeing as you're one half of their own personal nightmare. Where is your partner in crime, anyway? He was with you at the gate."

Mickey frowned. "I don't know—"

"Sir," a guard called from inside the palace, "They're back! Heading to the roof!"

Jafar scowled. "Well, seems I have some business to attend to," he hissed, "Join me, your majesty?"

Hesitantly, Mickey pulled up his hood and followed Jafar up the steps and into the palace.

The scene inside was pure chaos. Mourners scattered about, screaming bloody murder as a pair of humanoid figures—and a miniature chimpanzee—were backed into a wall by a contingency of guards. The young boy at the front, wielding a scimitar and wearing only a purple vest, a fez to match the monkey's and puffy pants that made Mickey giggle. Behind him was a man that vaguely reminded the mouse of Blues—except with a much darker color scheme. And body type. And... well, he was pretty different.

"Jafar!" the boy called out, reaiming his sword at the vizier.

"Street rat," Jafar growled, lifting up his staff. Red magic began to swirl around the end of it and Mickey suddenly realized there must be some personal connection between the vizier and this boy. Could he hail from Agrabah, too?

The mouse didn't have time to wonder. He lifted up a hand to stop Jafar's killing strike and strode toward the trio of thieves. He could see now what their prize was—Gilgamesh's red, glowing sword, in the hands of the robotic man standing behind the 'street rat.' Ea, right? That was what the blonde man had called it?

Mickey glanced back at Jafar, who had lowered his staff. "What's going on?" the King asked, breaking through the crowd of guards to speak to the thieves. Slowly, he dropped his hood.

"Your Majesty," the boy recognized him, dropping to a knee, "Honor to meet you. I'm Aladdin, from Agrabah."

"Up, please," Mickey insisted, holding out a gloved palm. "The sword, Aladdin."

Aladdin's face grew puzzled, and his companion leaned forward. "What's going on? You said he'd help us take it."

"He will, he will," Aladdin muttered. "Your Majesty—you're not with these guys. They're the bad guys. Your—you've just gotta help us get out of here."

Mickey was confused. These thieves expected him to help them just because the kid had gotten down on a knee and called him 'Your Majesty'? He glanced back at Jafar, scowl still plastered on his face, and then at the crowd of mourners who had gathered to watch the commotion. They wept. They reached out for Ea. And these kids... they were taking it.

Aladdin looked like a nice kid. He looked like he had something to say that he couldn't—but these days, intention wasn't enough to win the mouse's heart. He had become a proponent of actions.

He extended his fingers and the whole crowd watched as slowly, a Key blade materialized. After a few moments, he tightened his grip. Aladdin's face grew pale.

"I can't help you," Mickey shook his head. "These people... they need that sword. Haven't they been through enough?"

"Your Majesty—we need you to come with us," Aladdin said. Mickey sighed.

The other guy reached out and placed a hand on Aladdin's shoulder. "Plan B," he said simply, and he yanked Aladdin away, leaping out the nearby window and pulling the boy with him. Mickey and the contingent of guards raced over, looking down to see the trio of thieves—along with Ea—flying away on a magic carpet.

"I'll get them," Mickey waved the guards away, flipping out of the window and aiming his Keyblade at the ground. He shot a Pearl, and the recoil sent him hurtling just far enough so one of his gloved hands could wrap around the carpet's corner tassel.

Aladdin glanced down, and for a moment, Mickey could see the hesitation as he thought about helping the mouse king up. But before the boy could do anything, his chimpanzee buddy had bitten down on Mickey's fingers and the rodent had released the carpet and begun to plummet down to the streets below.

The fall stopped suddenly as the mouse crashed into the greenery of the palace courtyard, disappearing into the vines and into unconsciousness.