The Great Mouse Detection

Chapter Three

At the track and field, Danger Mouse kept a sharp and beady eye on the Colonel as he stood a few meters away from him, pistol in hand, raising it high into the clear air.

"On your marks" he began, tightening his hold on the trigger of the pistol.

DM placed one leg forward, another to the back.

He leaned forward; his one free eye focused and trailed across the scope of the circular track spread out before him.

"Go" the Colonel uttered.

The pistol went off. And so did DM. Off like a shot.

Dashing at impeccably swift speed across the track, DM achieved several laps in mere minutes, impressing a passionate and swarming crowd of deer leaders (that's deers holding pom-poms), as they encouraged every sprint made across the track and field.

In his series of sprints, DM tallied up the number of times he had completed the run in his head, projecting a specific number.

With each successive run around the perimeter, that targeted number came ever so closer to being reached

And then he stopped dead in his tracks. Dead on the track.

"DM? Why the long pause lad?" asked the Colonel.

"Colonel, can I ask you something?"

"Ask away DM"

"Do I have everything figured out? Truly?"

"You've always paid attention to the details DM"

"I feel like I'm missing some. I spoke to a 'friend' earlier today, she said she'd been speaking to someone that reminded her so much of me...I told her he'd probably be a good fit for her, but I can't shake the feeling that if she's looking for more of me in people she socialises with, why can't she settle for just me?"

"This friend of yours...how would you describe her?" the Colonel asked, already knowing the answer but opting to humour DM, almost daring him to come clean, for they both knew exactly who they were talking about.

DM obliged.

"Incredibly selfish, spoiled, talented but far too entitled, doesn't appreciate the legal hoops we leap through to try and keep her out of trouble, always doubles down on her mischief making, ought to act her proper age, but I'm in no position to tell her that when I scarcely act it myself"

"I'm certain it'll Dawn on you" assured the Colonel.

DM appreciated the joke, even if he'd never been comfortable with his close relations to Dawn being sussed out a long time ago by almost everyone at the agency.

The world's greatest secret agent was never that good at concealing matters related to his own heart.

At the nearby mall, inside one of many luxurious clothing stores, Mr. Snuggles checked his watch as yet another hour of indecision came to a close and a fresh one was just about due to start.

Dawn just could not pick out anything she felt could stand out.

She had changed her look and age several times over in a bid to compliment everything she was trying on, and yet nothing seemed to appease her.

She threw back the curtain of the changing room, a towel wrapped around her body, holding a pair of high heels in her hand, and tossed them at the clothing store manager.

"Nobody tell Prince Charming to pick these for Cinderella" she bellowed, before heading back towards Snuggles, seated on the floor, and collapsed exhausted into his warm felt lap.