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DoofQuest- a Disney Villains Victorious CK2-Style Quest

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TheGleeman said:
Even so, the sheer time and money involved in having to "battle" that claim in the first place would be quite the drain on our economy.

And Resin-whatever is essentially the Big Bad Grandpa of Capsaicin in terms of spiciness (which technically is *not* a flavor at all, but instead your pain receptors going "don´t eat that, you idiot").

Also, US courts just laughing off frivolous claims is *Not* the impression I am getting from US law as a German at all - quite the opposite, in fact.

But that would lead too far into political territory even without dragging up the old "McDonalds Hot Coffee is too hot" case that wasn´t even half as frivolous as the media likes presenting it as...so let´s just stop, ok?
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Handling the legal stuff wouldn't be a significant drain on our economy. If it was the US wouldn't have restaurants selling stuff like freaking ghost pepper ice cream (which apparently also hurts coming out). We can get legal waivers to make sure the customer knows about the risks and accepts liability.

The dose makes the poison and resiniferatoxin can be diluted just as capsaicin can (People aren't served pure capsaicin). People consume chilli, coffee, tobacco, alcohol and various other legal substances that have bad health effects.

To win you need to convince the judge (and jurors) that your claims have merit. Frivolous lawsuits can and do get dismissed.

I don't know why you even bring up the hot coffee case as evidence toward frivolous lawsuits in the US considering as you mention it wasn't really frivolous when you look into the facts of the case.

If we use enough pure resiniferatoxin that customers just trying to eat get third degree chemical burns over their skin, throat and the inside of their mouths and need major surgery then that would be negligent and we could be sued. We don't have to be that stupid.

Posting an argument and then going "Let's agree to disagree" at the end to try and get the last word in is bad form.
 
MrCogmor said:
If we tried to pay our employees with it instead of real money then the feds (and our employees) would be mad at us, but promotional vouchers and gift cards aren't illegal.
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Certainly, but the line of discussion started in crypto and passed through 'let's make a new currency' on the way. Tokens issued by companies or local governments are usually ignored as the ultimately harmless publicity stunts that they tend to be.

When the organization that issues said tokens happens to have military forces of its own and has previously declared itself sovereign, the issue can be a mite bigger.

The issue is not in how we mean our actions to be perceived, but in how the rest of the world actually perceives them. The federal government accepts a status quo in which we keep playing Shadowrun, but trying to play Tropico strains their tolerance.
 
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Murazor said:
When the organization that issues said tokens happens to have military forces of its own and has previously declared itself sovereign, the issue can be a mite bigger.
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Very true. I'm originally from Illinois, and they still tell stories there about how Joseph Smith tried establishing his own currency, got run out of three different states, and was eventually killed in Carthage, IL while awaiting extradition to Missouri to face counterfeiting charges because he had previously made and demanded that the locals accept his own currency as legal tender.

All that to say, let's not follow his example.
 
[thread hop]

Sure sure, we make what seems like a fair and simple way to get a small amount of money, and get YET ANOTHER action sink instead! I hope we can use diplomacy to run an add campaign or intrigue to plunder a competitor's secret formula, because stewardship is hopelessly clogged and I know y'all hippies will never be convinced to deploy our mongol horde.

Sure, we could try to research stuff in Learning, but it seems that that whenever we complete a Learning action for a technology with practical application than actually using said practical application requires completing another Stewardship action, so our action economy is hardly any better off!

Sorry, I just feel cranky that it seems our plate is constantly getting stacked faster than we can eat from it. Then again, that might be a symptom of our dysfunction where we try to do everything at once instead of focusing on a single avenue for more than a turn.

...Never seen a muppet Moseby? What rock did you crawl out from?
 
General_Urist said:
[thread hop]

Sure sure, we make what seems like a fair and simple way to get a small amount of money, and get YET ANOTHER action sink instead! I hope we can use diplomacy to run an add campaign or intrigue to plunder a competitor's secret formula, because stewardship is hopelessly clogged and I know y'all hippies will never be convinced to deploy our mongol horde.

Sure, we could try to research stuff in Learning, but it seems that that whenever we complete a Learning action for a technology with practical application than actually using said practical application requires completing another Stewardship action, so our action economy is hardly any better off!

Sorry, I just feel cranky that it seems our plate is constantly getting stacked faster than we can eat from it. Then again, that might be a symptom of our dysfunction where we try to do everything at once instead of focusing on a single avenue for more than a turn.

...Never seen a muppet Moseby? What rock did you crawl out from?
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I don't think he was surprised at Kermit being a Muppet, he was surprised at him being a FROG Muppet, given that he's the spokesman for...Ya know...A Fried Frog Legs chain.
 
General_Urist said:
[thread hop]

Sure sure, we make what seems like a fair and simple way to get a small amount of money, and get YET ANOTHER action sink instead! I hope we can use diplomacy to run an add campaign or intrigue to plunder a competitor's secret formula, because stewardship is hopelessly clogged and I know y'all hippies will never be convinced to deploy our mongol horde.

Sure, we could try to research stuff in Learning, but it seems that that whenever we complete a Learning action for a technology with practical application than actually using said practical application requires completing another Stewardship action, so our action economy is hardly any better off!

Sorry, I just feel cranky that it seems our plate is constantly getting stacked faster than we can eat from it. Then again, that might be a symptom of our dysfunction where we try to do everything at once instead of focusing on a single avenue for more than a turn.
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Personally I think dominating a second industry to be a worthwhile action sink, one I'd be willing to focus on for a turn or two. The added revenue would make other actions in the future so much easier after all.
 
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Mr. Moseby's Second Day on the Job
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    • Mr. Moseby's Second Day on the Job​

    Doofenschmirtz Evil Incorporateeeeeed~!

    "Hey, Moseby, just checkin' in!" you say, with a bright smile, as you pass by Mr. Moseby in the lobby. "Wanted to see how things're hangin', here in the neighborhood! And by 'neighborhood' I mean the front doors. And by 'things' I mean your apparent rivalry with Tobe and the gang. And by 'hangin', I mean, it looks like Binggure's transformed himself into a pig and is hanging precariously from the rafters that weren't there when we closed up shop yesterday."

    "SQU-SQUEAK!" the pig in question, bedecked in clown makeup, squeals, its three unroped legs flailing wildly in mid-air. "REEEEEEK!"

    "OH, that," Moseby adjusting his tie, something of a smile on his face. "Allow me to clear up the misconception, sir. That's, ah, not Binggure."

    "Really," you say, surprised.

    "Lipstick on a pig," Moseby chuckled. "Let loose, to cause havoc, general panic, untold calamity, and perhaps a touch of mayhem. Unfortunately for it, corralling such tomfoolery is not only something with which I have untold experience, but also..." If the smile the man sends your way is slightly smug, well, hey, who can blame the guy? "...in my job description."

    "Well, lookit you!" you declare, hand on hips. The pig sways, pendulum-like, in a nonexistant breeze. "Frog legs, pig legs. All kinds of legs! You know, back in Drusselstein they would've accused you of animal community and tried you for witchcraft!" You sip at your coffee. "Trust me, the guy raised by ocelots would know. But, ah-ah-ah-ah, that's neither here nor there. Point is, geeze louise, talk about overperformance!"

    "Oh, pish, not even the beginnings of a big deal." Moseby is recovering nicely, for someone who had to visibly recover from most of what you said. Most people do, after the raised-by-ocelots thing. "Took a little elbow grease, is all."

    "That right?"

    "Wrangled it right up with a good old-fashioned rope snare!" He sighs, eyes drifting to the ceiling in what you recognize can only be a Flashback. "Just like momma used to make."

    "Pulled pork?"

    "The Moseby sauce has won awards. Second place at the county fair!" Moseby preens, then seethes. "Even if Mrs. Milforshore's slop was more fit to be fed to pigs than used to cook them." Moseby shakes himself, presenting himself, prim and proper, to the present day. "I do apologize. That was entirely unprofessional of me."

    "Eh, don't tell Binggure that I thought he was sus, and I think we can call it even."

    "'Sus', sir?"

    "Yeah, a member of the Sus domesticus family. Y'know, the common pig?"

    "Oh, well, now, don't be embarrassed, sir. I was fooled at first, too!" Moseby's smile is perfect. Like, teeth-whitening commercial perfect. How does he- wait, you're getting sidetracked. Employee talking. Gotta listen! "But no. Spotted Binggure and his, erm, clique watching from the potted plants. What we're witnessing is a completely normal pig, perhaps purloined from some poor farmer at market, and splattered with clownly makeup, as a cunning ruse. We're looking into where the poor thing could have been snatched from."

    There is a silence. Well, silence, except for the continued squealing of Piggy the Clown, of course.

    "It is an odd environment, where one of your coworkers transmogrifying himself into a swine seems the likeliest option, in a scenario."

    "Eh, to be fair, this particular revenge scheme is only about 85% kooky." You squint up at the pig, then nod, certain of your estimations. "Th-th-they usually operate in, IIiii'd say the high nineties?"

    "So I'd gathered." Moseby says. "You know, at the moment of this pig's capture, Tobe actually jumped out from the plants, screaming at me?"

    "Swore revenge for a second time, huh?" you sympathize. "Yeaaaaaah, he... he kinda does that."

    "Burst into tears, actually." Moseby shakes his head. "Loudly lamented the loss of 'an esteemed member of the proud shinobi arts'. Crying, on his knees, mourning a pig - a still-living pig." Another chuckle. "I must reluctantly admit, it was quite an endearing display."

    "Ninjas," you commiserate, toasting your coffee cup. "They sneak their way right into your heart."

    "All too true! But whatever the case, the situation is settling, now. And to answer your original question, sir..." Moseby smiles once more. Seriously: like the sun. Your mentor would've punched this guy in the mouth the moment he met him. "I am settling, as well."

    "Great to hear!" you attempt enthusiasm and sincerity. They chafe at your joints like an overstarched tuxedo, but they also make you look good, so. "I was pretty worried, after some of the reports I was getting, yesterday."

    "Well, sir, if I have done something to offend somebody, I can only wholeheartedly apolo-"

    "Nothin' like that," you wave him off. Enthusiasm drained, but... the sincerity is starting to bubble up? Weird feeling. "It's more, ah... well, I've never been the best at, at picking up social cues, y'know, but er..."

    "...the sweat?"

    "The sweat," you confirm. "You're not in trouble! Promise! I just..." Well, in for a loose screw, in for a doomsday device, right? "I've made some mistakes with my employees, in the past. Smothered them with company culture, didn't pay attention to their wants and needs, sent them on globe-trotting trips to gather magical artifacts after they specifically told me they didn't want to go..."

    "Max had mentioned."

    You smile, which hopefully eases up the flinch Moseby had made at his own words. Either his own words or that especially loud, honk-like squeal from above you. "Max is one of the people I've let down the most." Hego is another. Him, maybe even more. "I-I-I like to think of myself as. Well. More, I like to think of DEI as a place where people who don't, ah. You know. Fit. Um."

    ...maybe this "sincerity" thing is a load of bunk, after all.

    "I just thought I'd better follow up," you finally say. "Make sure the bumps were being smoothed over, for ya, if we could. And, you know, I don't, I don't wanna sound too pessimistic or anything, but if you're just not feelin' the place, no hard feelings! I'll even be a reference on your-"

    "Mr. Doofenschmirtz." You sense how it hurts his sense of professionalism, which makes it all the more impactful when Moseby places a gentle hand on your shoulder. "Your company is a profound departure from what I am accustomed to. But that is hardly a terrible thing! Why, Doofenschmirtz Evil Incorporated is a more perfect place for me than I could have ever asked for."

    You blink. "Seriously?" Even the pig's stopped making noise; you can only assume he, too, is staring. "That, uh, wow. That was not the vibe I was gettin' from ya, yesterday." Or the vibe that Kermit got, or the vibe that Max got, or the vibe that Tobe and the gang got, or...

    "I will speak honestly, sir, as you have done with me. Man-to-man." Moseby speaks with the utmost openness, and yet, the utmost dignity. "When I applied for this position, I outlined the ideal job for myself in my cover letter. Professional, straight-forwards, composed. Focused in its single-mindedness, each worker a cog dutifully turning the machinery of progress. The very model of a modern major corporation."

    "That, uh, doesn't sound like..." you wince, even as you say it.

    "Not a thing in common with our work environment, no," Moseby's calm, in his agreement. A slight frown, one side of his mouth, as he shakes his head. "DEI has not presented me with the job I wanted. But..." the frown shifts. Suddenly, a smile. Even a slight chuckle. "This company has given me the job I needed."

    "...really?"

    "You know, it's almost nostalgic," Moseby steps way from you. Breathes in the stale lobby air. He gives every indication that he is looking around, content and proud, as though a king surveying his kingdom. "The mayhem. The chaos. The lack of regard for proper rules and regulations. The everyday extraordinary. The vim and the vigor. The connection! Why, even the frustration!"

    He laughs, and turns back to you, crossing in a single step to a professional speaking distance. "I had missed it all. So dearly. And I didn't even realize, you know? Not until I saw those four hooligans unleash that beast upon our freshly-waxed floors, and found myself thinking: Ah! Finally."

    "Old habits die hard," you toast once more, beneath memories of fedoras and the color teal.

    "Indeed." An outright smirk. Heavens! "It had been so long since I, ah... broke out Mama Moseby's rope-tying technique. If you catch my meaning."

    A finger comes up, sharpish, and he leans in close to whisper.

    "But if you let on to those riotous ronin that I feel that way, sir, I will deny it to my dying day, you hear me?"

    "Loud and clear, boss," you wink back at him.

    "I'm pleased to see that you are able to keep things so professional," Moseby nods, that smile from before reduced to only a hint of upwards motion.

    "Professional?" You scoff. "Look who's talkin'! Only the guy who, correct me if I'm wrong, managed the buyout of all of Doc Hopper's in a single day? Get outta town!"

    "Oh, it was hardly a challenging prospect, sir! Aside from, ah, erm, well..."

    "The car."

    "The car, yes. To say nothing of the attached..." Huh. You've never seen a non-toon turn quite that shade of red, before. Honetly, it's even more impressive considering the guy's complexion. "Kerfuffle."

    Apparently, some shenanigans are too much even for a shiny new outlook on life. Then again, considering the width and depth of nonsense yesterday in particular threw at you all... "But hey! I hear tell you and Juniper were able to hit it off! Managed to salvage something outta that whole mess, huh?"

    "She is a magnificent dancer," Moseby is briefly taken aback by memory, eyes slowly closing. "I've never seen anyone so fully committed to the art of the Crazy Legs."

    "It's shocking how good she is, isn't it?"

    "Oh, come now!" Moseby waves you off in a 'get-outta-town' sort of gesture. "Still, the car and the attached, ah, hootenanny were only connected with my homecoming. The only odious part about the job itself was the kidnapping!" He pauses. "Kermit is rather, ah...I'll just come out and ask, if you don't mind?"

    "Go for it."

    "Doc Hopper is an admitted frognapper and slaver. What exactly is the over-under on us being able to report the lout to the proper authorities?"

    You snap your fingers. "The proper authorities!" A bark of laughter. "That's what was nagging at me! Totally forgot that was an option." Doy, seems to say the dope slap you give the side of your own head. "Here I was, thinkin', thinkin' we'd have to, I dunno, form some kind of mercenary squad? Kidnap him, and keep him in the basement, or whatever, let Kermit have his revenge on his own time. Telling the cops would be way easier!"

    "...right," Mr. Moseby's smile suddenly seems strained. You can't imagine wh -

    "QUEAK! SQUE, SQUEAK, SKWEEEEEEE!"

    "Ah, there goes that dang not-Binggure pig again," you grumble, casting your eyes to the ceiling.

    "That it does," Moseby sighs, pressing down his suit once more. "Sadly, life is not some kind of sitcom, where after a heartfelt talk about one's feelings, all the issues that have been plaguing one simply seem to solve themselves."

    "Would be a lot easier, huh?" You drain the rest of your coffee, then throw the cup away. "So, gonna work on getting the poor thing down, huh?"

    "Oh, already on it," Moseby assures you. "I'm simply waiting on my volunteer assistant to come back wit-"

    Doofenschmirtz Evil Incorporateeeeeed~!

    "Heya, D the Doctor!" Janna stands in the doorway, having appeared as if... well, by magic. "And Mr. Mystery himself! Got the goods, no need to thank me."

    "Ms. Ordonia," Moseby chides, before you can say anything. "Come now. Surely you can remember that my name is Marion Moseby, not Marion Mystery?"

    ...although, come to think of it, his "chiding" sounds fairly not-chideful. Almost... teasing? Also he's. Smiling.

    "Hey, it's not my fault you're pullin' off that suit so well," Janna smirks. "Got ourselves a regular secret agent workin' at the Tri-State!"

    "Oh, you!" Moseby steps around a very confused, ah, you. Indicates Janna. Smile gets bigger. "Mr. Doofenschmirtz, I've sure you've had many occasions to speak with Ms. Ordonia, but on the slim chance you haven't -"

    "Ah, the boss man knows pretty much everyone here," Janna shrugs. "Never get him to admit it, but I think he thinks that when you're at DEI, you're family. Also? Pretty sure I'm his favorite kid."

    Moseby... laughs at that? "With good reason! Mr. Doofenschmirtz, I cannot stress how magnificently helpful and hard-working this young woman is! Why, without her ability to summon ropes from thin air, I dare say I'm the one who would've been in a bind, today!"

    "I'M the one who summoned the rope!" Felldrake grumbles. "Oh, but to hear her tell it, it was her idea to etch the runes into the weave to triple the cord's meager strength. Please."

    Janna laughs. "You're just mad we didn't take your suggestion to blast the poor porker until it was crispy bacon."

    "I know for a FACT you humans eat those creatures!"

    "He was wearing clown makeup," Janna shrugs. "Betcha he would've tasted funny."

    "...I despise you for how good that is."

    "Ms. Ordonia has a wonderfully whimsical sense of humor," Moseby splays his hand over his heart. "Why, it almost overshadows her astounding list of accomplishments! Today alone, she's helped me sweep and wax the floors, arrange the furniture, polish the tables, clean all the windows in the building..." He leans in, faux-conspiratorial. "I don't know how much my opinion on the matter matters, but if you're looking to hand out a promotion or two, you might consider..."

    "It's no big deal," Janna shrugs. "I'm the one with all the magical shortcuts, and this guy -" Despite the lack of mouth, you somehow get the sense that Felldrake was interrupted just before he started talking, "- is the one who does all the heavy lifting for me. You're the guy who managed to polish the tables better than literal, actual spellwork could, Mr. Mystery!"

    "What do I have to do to convince you not to call me that?" Moseby asks, faux-exasperated.

    "Psah, easy! Drop the Ms. Ordonia thing, is all. Just call me Janna!"

    "You know," there's a twinkle in Moseby's eye, "You almost have me convinced."

    "Alright, okay, hang on, hold up, that's it," you step between the two. "This is, what, what would you kids say, wiggidy wack?"

    "Smiggidy-smack," Janna corrects you.

    "See?" Moseby indicates her once more. "She's so helpful."

    "Smiggedy smack," you acquiesce. And then firm up: "Who are you, and what have you done with Janna?"

    "Oh, please," Felldrake scoffs. "It's no wonder my apprentice can manage to seem hilarious, on occasion, if this is her competition. And on the off-chance that you aren't actually joking: please. You think I haven't been around the magical block a multitude of times?" He doesn't move, of course, but somehow, he rolls his eyes. "Even if somebody managed to slip a shapeshifter past me, their magical signature would be entirely different from Janna's! I've been with the girl for over a year, you think I don't know her by now?"

    "Yeah, well, I know her too!" you barely spare Felldrake a glance. "And unlike you, I know her well enough to know everything I've been hearing about 'Ms. Ordonia' today is totally in-character. And by totally in-character, I of course mean COMPLETELY OUT-OF-CHARACTER!"

    "Aw, come on, doc," Janna says, before Felldrake can say anything, looking awfully sincere for somebody who's lying through her teeth. "I'm just trying to help Mr. Mystery-"

    "Janna."

    "Mr. Moseby get settled in, is all." She chuckles. "See, that wasn't so tough, was it?"

    "You win this round," Moseby points, all-too-severe. By which, of course, you mean...

    ...you can't even finish the second iteration. "No, no, no, this is totally abnormal behavior!" And you're actually a little concerned, not that you let it show. "Where are the flying monkeys? Where's the ghost ship trying to park on top of the building? Where are the curses that turn everything a person drinks into spicy noodles? Where are the whoopie cushions?!"

    "Toldja the Doc had a wild imagination," Janna says to Moseby, apparently unconcerned.

    "She's got you there, sir," Moseby's eyes sparkle. Sparkle.

    "This is starting to feel an awful lot like something I swear revenge on everybody for after it's over," you squint, suspiciously.

    "Nah, nothin' like that, promise. Seriously. Nothing nefarious. I'm just tryin' to do my job, just like everyone else here," Janna says. It would be reassuring, if you didn't know her. "Ah, speaking of, I was comin' back to tell Mr. Moseby about the results of that tracking spell?"

    "Ah, good!" Moseby claps his hands, lightly, then turns to you. "You see, sir? She volunteers her unique abilities, and then, without hesitation or delay, does things that no one else could! Janna is a true wunderkind of lobby management."

    "Hey, that's the job," Janna shrugs. "Anyway. Pig belongs to a tourist, actually. Just a couple blocks down from here. He seemed pretty upset that he and 'Barnacles' weren't able to tour Danville like they were supposed to be."

    "Then by all means," Moseby rolls up his sleeves. "Let's get this poor piggy, wee, wee, wee, wee, all the way home!"

    "Hah!" Janna laughs, even as she summons up a ladder. "And you said I was the funny one!"

    "Because you are," Moseby assures, nodding. "Now, hold this ladder steady, will you? I'll need both hands to keep... Barnacles?"

    "Barnacles."

    "Barnacles from running off on us."

    "You got it," Janna gives off a lazy salute, tucking Felldrake into the crook of her arm and grabbing the ladder with both hands.

    You watch Mr. Moseby climb for several moments, judging to about where he's about of hearing range. Finally, you lean in and whisper to Janna, "I know what you're up to."

    "Uh, I think you're confused, Doc," Janna gives you the least most innocent look you've ever seen. "Mr. Moseby's the one who's up right now. We're both down."

    "Curses!" Felldrake breathes. "Another good one."

    "You're trying to pull a prank on Mr. Moseby," you cut through the nonsense.

    "Whaaaaaaaat?" Correction, this is the least most innocent look you've ever seen. "Nooooooooo. I would never."

    The squealing of the pig increases in volume and frequency. Up above, in the rafters-which-weren't-there, you hear Moseby saying soothing words, and the rustling of fabric.

    "You're lulling him into a false sense of security," you say.

    "Perish the thought!"

    "Ingratiating yourself to the most professional and uptight member of our entire organization, at the moment of greatest vulnerability."

    "You're imagining things."

    "And then, once he's let his guard down, you plan on some kind of masterstroke. Something that'll undo every good thing you've done today, and worse."

    "My man, you have climbed out onto the world's longest limb, here."

    "Don't play coy!" You accuse, pointing. "I'm onto your little act. You're going to prank poor Mr. Moseby out of his wits, or my name isn't Heinz Doofenschmirtz!"

    "Seriously, dude," Janna laughs. "I'm totally not pranking Mr. Moseby!"

    "You can say it as often as you-"

    Suddenly, she leans in close, expression triumphant, dropping to a whisper. "I'm pranking you."

    "...wait, what?"

    "I think I've got a handle on our - ah, hey now! - on our barnyard companion, here," Moseby calls from the top of the ladder. "Janna, it occurs to me that you haven't had a break all day, have you? Why don't you go ahead and take your lunch."

    "Awww, but Mr. Moseby," Janna calls back, very nearly simpering. "I'm having so much fun working with you!"

    "Before we cut down the tree, we must sharpen the saw," Moseby calls back. "Go on, now. Skedaddle. Rest is important, and you've done more than enough."

    "But this is like the boss-employee relationship I've never had," Janna continues talking to Moseby, while sending you a positively evil smile.

    "Go on, get!" Moseby suddenly shrieks. "Oh - not you, Barnacles! You stay!"

    "Well, okay," Janna says, "reluctantly", "If you're sure you've got things handled here! And you too, Heinz Doofenschmirtz?"

    "Curse you, Janna the Teenage Girl."

    "Here's your wallet back, by the way," Janna says, oh-so-casually, as Felldrake's laughter fills the room. "Didn't take anything, don't worry. I did put a picture of myself in there, though. Y'know. Since I'm your favorite, and all."

    She winks.

    She walks off.

    You watch her go.

    You open your wallet, and see a photo of Janna, doing bunny ears behind you at an important company meeting.

    You think your blood may literally be boiling.

    "Clever girl."

    You look up. Moseby is sitting atop the ladder, using one hand to steady himself and using the other to...

    ...huh. Is he fashioning the rope into some kind of pig-carrying papoose? His mama really was good at ropework.

    "Young woman, really," he continues. "But a quicker mind than women twenty years her senior. She'll go far, no matter what she decides to do."

    You sigh, and put another mark under Janna's name on the scoreboard you keep inside your head to keep track of the ongoing prank war between you. Janna one hundred and fourteen, Heinz 1. "Yeah, Janna's... really something."

    "Indeed." Moseby ties off the papoose -that pig looks weirdly comfortable - but doesn't come down. Instead, he just sits. Looks at you. "You have a daughter, am I correct, Mr. Doofenshmirtz?"

    "Oh, that's right!" Talking about Vanessa always perks you right up. "She, ah, went off to college recently. Feels like just yesterday. Heck, with the On-Ice-inator and all, it kinda was!" You chuckle. "But yeah, she's studying psychology. Wants to help people, y'know? People who can't help themselves. Yeah, I miss having her around, but -" The grin overtakes you. "She's my greatest invention! I couldn't keep her all to myself. Vanessa Doofenschmirtz had to be unleashed on the world! I'm too proud to do anything else."

    Moseby nods. "I know the feeling." Looks off after Janna. "I don't have children, myself, but... well, I played a large part in..." He smiles, and shakes his head. "Ah, look at us. Two old men, pretending like we have any say in what the younger generation does."

    "...London Tipton, right?"

    He keeps staring after her. "It isn't the same." He turns, and begins stepping down the ladder. "Ms. Ordo- hah. Excuse me. Janna is hardly a child. Not to mention, I've just met her! But old men like us can't help ourselves."

    You reach out to steady the ladder, as he descends. "I have to stop myself from calling Vanessa. Three or four times a day, I look down, and bam, I've already got the phone in my hand, ready to dial." You pause. The next part comes out quieter. "I keep making two meals, every night at dinner."

    "Mmm." Moseby comes to the bottom of the ladder, but doesn't yet step off, even as you step away. "It is not about them, after a certain point. It's more about us, isn't it?"

    "Filling the void."

    Moseby takes the last step without taking it, hopping down with a small flourish. "I try and keep it in check. I don't wish to use her - use anyone - as a substitute for what I've had to give up, to better the world." He adjusts the papoose as he looks back once more. Janna's making faces in the elevator mirror as it closes, and possibly thinks you two aren't paying her any attention. "Still, I. I find myself worrying. Janna's a wonderfully smart girl, but the world can be a challenging place. Especially for somebody with her, ah..." he sends you a look so significant that even you can't miss it. "Unique difficulties."

    You raise your eyebrows. "She told you. About her..." You look over his shoulder. The elevator door has closed. "Toffee allergies."

    "I'd wager she was trying to test my boundaries. See if I'd back off, if I knew," Suddenly, you get the impression that two people have pranked you today, even if only one person realized who all was in on the joke. Well, two people and a staff. "I should clarify. When I say I shouldn't use her to substitute for London..."

    "The payment," you echo the words from long ago, rubbing at your eyes. "Hearts, set on her cheeks."

    "Even when they're grown," Moseby's tone is dry. "Even when they aren't yours. Aren't children always giving us old men more children to worry about?"

    You think on that for a bit, tapping your wallet against your thigh.

    Out of the corner of your eye, you notice a second photograph slip out, and flutter to the floor. You bend to pick it up, turning it over to see it as you stand.

    It's another picture of Janna, looking too-cool-for-school as always. A selfie. One taken with Felldrake's reluctant assistance, judging by the lack of staff and freedom of arms the picture portrays. She has one arm wrapped around Vanessa, who looks overjoyed. The other arm is wrapped around Max, who is trying his hardest to look grumpy.

    Not as grumpy as you're trying to look, though.

    You remember this picture, now. The "Goof Troop" barged into your office, running on energy drinks and enthusiasm, interrupting some very delicate work. It was shortly after the Toffee conversation, come to think of it. Probably explains why, after the chaos and gallivanting, Janna pulled you all in for a group hug.

    Out-of-character, indeed.

    "She was right on the money, you know," you finally say.

    "Your favorite, is she?" Moseby says, with a knowing smile.

    "Yeah, one of 'em," you admit, defeated. Ignore the tiny smile. "But also that, uh. Yeah. I-I-I, do kind think of Doofenschmirtz Evil Incorporated as my family. A little bit."

    Moseby frowns, and nods. Skritches Barnacles under the chin. "...that first day, you gave me a different option for my first assignment. The interdimensional Portal Project." He looks you dead in the eye. "I reacted badly, I know. But I've had time to reflect, especially with my first major assignment wrapped up so very quickly."

    "That right?" you think you see where he's headed with this.

    "Too true," Moseby knows you know. "A portal to other worlds... why, that could be just the thing to help so many people in need." He keeps looking at you. "To find things that could not otherwise be found in this world. The perfect thing to come from Doofenschmirtz..." He laughs. You aren't sure why. "Evil Incorporated, really."

    He sighs, and there is this sense of, ah, what can you do, as he looks down to Barnacles, who has fallen asleep.

    "If you have room for me, I would appreciate being placed on that project. In whatever capacity I could help in." A smirk. "Us old guys gotta stick together, I hear."

    "Psh," you wave him off. "You're not even that old."

    "No, I suppose neither of us are," Moseby agrees, even though that's not what you said. "Well. I should get back to work. I neglected to have her tell me that tourist's precise location before I sent Janna off, but...it won't be too difficult to find him, I think. He'll come looking."

    "Well, best of luck, Marion," you imitate Janna's lazy salute.

    "Ah, Heinz, I hardly need luck, do i?" Once more, he palms your shoulder. "I'm right where I'm supposed to be, after all."

    And then -

    - he is gone. Out into the world, to find a poor lost creature its home.

    You take in a deep breath, look at the picture once more.

    Fold it up, put it back in your wallet.

    You breathe out, smiling a little.

    You're gonna be Busted! I don't wanna put the hurt on you~

    Oh, you'd recognize that ringtone anywhere! Your hands are already answering before you even finish that thought, in fact. "Hello, Vanessa! How's school going?"

    You walk further into your company, each step a new resolve.

    "Well, if that's the case, you shouldn't be calling an old fuddy-duddy like me. You should call up Janna and Max! They really miss you, I think. No, I'm not projecting, listen, you really oughta call your friends..."
     
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