~Well. . . I guess this is it. I don't know whether to be more happy or sad, relieved or proud. I hope you all like, and HUGE THANKS to everyone who's read and reviewed. You know who you are. ;) And I'm grateful.~

Weird Curly Megaquack had never believed in fairy tales. But she did believe in happy endings.

The first thing the VP did after he was teleported back to Sellbot Towers was tug that old creaky cage down, thump it in front of the Toons, and say, smiling the whole time, "Well, I guess I won't be using this anymore." It took Bankjob, Bouncer, and Franz Neckvein and all the guys from his gym to carry the thing to Toon Hall – with Curly, Lefty, and Violet bringing up the rear, moving in a crazy-joyful ring-around-the-rosy all the way.

"We're going to have to draw up some truce conditions – the sooner, the better," Flippy said pretty soon after they 'ported the CFO back to the Cashbot Vaults.

With a gulp, Curly nodded. Even now that they could be happy, Glitched Cogs were still Cogs, still so different from bouncy, trouncy, fun-fun-fun-fun-fun Toons. It was a gap that no one in Toontown had ever been able to close – the carefree little animals and the businessmen.

Curly threw a glance over her shoulder. Scrooge McDuck was holding Gyro's CALL away from his head as somebody with a lisp squawked through the receiver, "Mr. McDuck?! Blatherin' blatherskite – where've you BEEN?"

"Now, calm down, Crackshell –" Scrooge began.

And Curly didn't catch the rest. She was too busy thinking.

Toon. Businessman.

Bingo.

And so Scrooge McDuck became what he called the "go-between" in the Toon-Cog peace talks. He could see things from both sides and was full of helpful advice for the Cogs.

"Ya see, if you think you can run a business better than the man who's currently runnin' it," he told them one day, "you talk to him about an acquisition or a merger. You don't barge in there, kick him out on the street, and forcibly convert his shop."

Curly had never heard so many metal voices all go "Ohhhhhhhhhh…" at the same time before.

The eventual conditions of the truce were less formal than the Cogs would've liked and more formal than the Toons preferred, which told Curly they were probably just about perfect. Cogs who wanted to were free to live among Toons, provided they stuck to the rules – no taking over buildings, no harassing Toons on the streets, and no stealing Toon stuff. Since they were still obsessed with following rules, Curly figured that wouldn't be much of a problem. It was whether or not they would want the Toons' company that was a sticking point for her.

The Cogs who weren't crazy about being around Toons could choose to stay in their HQs and not make trouble. Telemarketers had to abide by those "do-not-contact" lists, and battle mode had to be deactivated on all the Goons, which turned them into the cuddliest little critters-without-fur ever. But they never had to peek their faces out into all the bright colors of Toontown's streets if they didn't want to.

Most of the Cogs opted for that, and it woulda been mega-discouraging if a bunch of them hadn't added, "For now." There were enough open to the idea that some of the Cashbots got together with Scrooge and the lisping accountant he'd been talking to over the phone and started to piece together a Cogbucks-to-jellybeans "converter." Basically like the machines Curly had seen at the Duckburg Airport for whenever you were about to fly off to some other country.

So far, most of the Toons Curly knew were still carrying their Gag bags around – though maybe not quite full. Curly had vowed seven or eight times not to let that get her down. The hatred between Toons and Cogs had been pooling for even longer than the rust had built up in Sellbot Headquarters before they'd cleaned it. It wasn't gonna disappear overnight.

Cogs that DID break the conditions of the truce would "face consequences," as Flippy put it. On the flip side – pun always intended – a Toon who attacked a Cog without being provoked would ALSO have some consequences comin' their way.

The rule-breakers would be punished by a panel of the fairest Toons in town. Flippy stunned them all by saying it was his goal for the jury to someday include Cogs that had proven themselves to be trustworthy. It was the first time Curly had ever seen the Chief Justice's constantly-in-a-scowling-V eyebrows lift.

Flippy had also said it wasn't fair to hold the Cogs "legally responsible" for whatever they'd done before they had the Glitch. Not guilty by reason of being a machine, in other words.

Since the Cog Bosses had always had free will, they were a whole other story. The Toon Council unanimously decided – no matter how loudly Curly made her "no"s – that the four Bosses should be put on trial for their actions against Toontown. She was about to start sweating ink when Flippy put up a hand and announced that, as the Council's unofficial Boss Observer, she was going to be a character witness.

For all four of them. Her only real job was to tell the truth.

Truth Curly had been waiting to tell everyone within a hundred miles for a loooong time.

"They are confined to their Headquarters," Coach Zucchini said – and Curly held herself back from questioning whether or not they could even GO anywhere else with the teleport system disabled. Like, did they even fit through the doors? "And no one" – his words grew extra-crisp – "is to assist them in leaving."

All heads swiveled in Curly's direction. It's like they actually expect me to try and hide the VP under my bed.

Dr. D, on the other hand, as the one who'd ultimately brought down the Chairman, was granted a full pardon. Lil Oldman was still keeping a close watch on him, but every week he reported to the Council that he couldn't see any signs of Dr. D defecting to "the other side."

And if it was good enough for the strictest Toon around, it was good enough for Curly.

Not that there was much of an "other side" to join anymore. Even the Bosses had rules to live by while they waited for their trials – and not just your standard leave-Toons-alone rules. Nope, they actually had some pretty firm guidelines about how they were supposed to behave with their own Cogs. If they kept treating them like trash, their "authority would be revoked," Flippy said.

It wasn't intended to turn the CEO's eyes into pits of fear again – in plain ol' English, it just meant that their Cogs would be taken somewhere else and the Bosses wouldn't get to be in charge of them anymore – but everyone would've been lying if they'd said they weren't relieved by how quickly it got him to agree.

The Beagle Boys headed back to Duckburg with their jellybean rewards. "Have you ever thought of…doing something different?" Curly had asked Bigtime right before they left. "Like – you could move here and not have to be crooks anymore."

Bigtime let his smirk grow until it was a genuine, semi-honest smile. "Well," he said, "it's a thought."

Then he tipped his cap at Curly and was gone.

Curly had learned to live for those little moments of progress. Like that time she was sunning right there on a fishing dock on Alto Avenue – same as she had the very last day of the old normal – and saw a cat skip down the street and cross a Bean Counter's path in the process. The kitty stiffened a little, but she didn't instinctively pie him in the face.

The Bean Counter gave her a good-manners nod, backed up a few steps to let her pass, and then went on his stiff-legged way. Curly knew she was glowing as she watched, and it wasn't from the Melodyland sunset.

That night, she stayed up WAY too late flipping through the notebook where she'd jotted down the serial numbers of every Cog who'd ever grazed her attention for longer that it took to drop an anvil on them. Her finger trailed down the list as she mouthed combos that all started to sound the same – until she landed on 18-407-B.

Him.

Curly shoved the book back under her pillow and fell into the best sleep she'd had in weeks.

The next morning, she was up and had run all the way to 14 Carat Goldfish with the smell of toothpaste still fresh on her breath. Sharkey Jones gave her a you-HAVE-gone-loco-haven't-you look when Curly told him what she wanted, and it took a pinkie-promise that she'd have to check regularly if it was working out before he'd surrendered one of his prized goldfish to her.

She thanked him about thirty-two times and took off for Bossbot Headquarters.

It wasn't really a place Curly had ever gone before if she'd had a choice. She squared her shoulders as she marched back the barebones trees that were still creepy but didn't have the power over her that they used to, around behind the Banquet Hall where a run-down castle lurked in the gray. Flippy and them had discovered it somewhere in the middle of all the post-truce chaos – a hangout for the Bossbots who were at home and too puny to work a shift in the Golf Courses.

A Micromanager met Curly at the door, tapping a pen against the clipboard in her other hand. "Can I ask why you're here?" she said. Curly could just imagine the gears clicking away in that organized mind almost too big for her square little head.

Curly glanced at the spot on her glove where she'd scribbled the serial number this morning. "Flunky 18-407-B," she said. "Was he ever rebuilt?"

The Micromanager didn't need to think about it for longer than a few seconds. It was one of the neat things about them. "Yes, he was. Would you like to speak with him?"

"Yeah – please – if it's not too much trouble."

The Micromanager kinda looked like Curly had just awarded her with a promotion and ushered her down the hall like she was a member of the Chairman's Board. Bossbots – they still weren't used to politeness.

Flunky 18-407-B was sitting at a small desk, behind a computer monitor, playing a game of Solitaire. When he saw Curly – and what she was holding – his already-bulgy eyes threatened to topple right out of their sockets. "What – what is that?" he asked.

Curly parked her elbows on the edge of his desk and grinned at him with all the Toon-spirit she figured the little guy could handle. "Ah, come on," she said. "Don't you know a goldfish when you see one?"

The Flunky's forehead wrinkled all the way up his baldness. He didn't move a sprocket until Curly nudged the fishbowl across the desk and guided his hands to cup the thing. "I know you wanted one," she said.

There was an itsy-bitsy nod as the Flunky watched the goldfish, who looked back with an identical deer-in-the-headlights gaze. "Did you steal this?" he asked, his voice hushed.

"No," Curly said. "I bought it. With my own money – err, jellybeans."

The bug-eyes went back to Curly. "Wait – you bought it – but it's for me?" His little metallic whisper was Flunky-timid, like the answer to every question he'd ever asked had been a snapped-out, "No!"

Curly was beyond happy to tell him, "Yep. It's called a gift. You give it to someone to show that they mean a lot to you."

"Why?" the Flunky said.

And Curly was forced to do it again – rummage around for words to explain something that she'd totally taken for granted as far back as she could remember. "Because," she said slowly, "you wanted a pet. Which means you wanted to take care of someone besides yourself. That's good. That's what we've been looking for all along. It should be encouraged."

The Flunky smiled with the same heart-stopping sweetness Curly had first seen on ACE. She'd already decided it was something she'd never get tired of seeing. "Well – I – that is to say – I mean – thank you," he finally said. "Thank you very much."

"You're welcome," Curly said, and every word sizzled true in her heart. "What'll you name him?"

The Flunky's brow pulled in again. "Name him? How can I name him? I don't know his serial number."

A groan took shape in Curly's chest and then burst apart into the laughter she pretty much hadn't stopped laughing since the VP's return. "We can work on that later. Now…" she pulled a container of Fish Flakes from her hammerspace and plunked onto the desk beside the bowl. "You feed him this food once every day, and sometime every week, you'll need to change the water in his bowl…"

Though the Flunky's face fell back to its trademark stare, at least he nodded with SOME degree of understanding every time Curly wrapped up a sentence. He raised his hand to ask the occasional question – like, where did he put the fish while he was changing the water? – and Curly answered them as gently as she could. You had to be gentle with a Flunky.

She left them looking unblinkingly at each other, with the promise that she'd be back in a few days to check on them. The Flunky brightened like he'd been plugged in and waved goodbye to her. He seemed happier already.

Well, no kidding. He has two more friends than he did ten minutes ago.

How more ideas kept coming, Curly couldn't explain. She would've thought her brain had exhausted its supply by now. Heck, it had never done her half this much good when she was stranded with a single 50-Laffer during the VP Skelecog round.

But an idea wisped its way into Curly's head anyway, tickling like the feather Dr. D had used to prove himself Toon Enough. It stayed too vague to grab onto, but it was enough to propel her across the CEO's dead lawn without a goose bump in sight.

"And, once again, I have nothing to report," Lil Oldman said as he folded his hands in front of him.

Silly Street's Toon HQ came out of that reluctantly-respectful silence they always fell into when the infamous bunny was talking. "I just can't even believe this," Samantha Spade said, adjusting the pencil stuck in the crease of her reporter's hat. "The Cogs aren't even making trouble?"

"Not yet," Flippy said – cautiously – from his spot at the head of the table. His lips did turn up when he glanced Curly's way, though. "So far, our little experiment's going very, very well."

"Much better than the time we tried to use gorilla-power instead of electricity," Professor Prepostera added.

That WOULD explain that crazy hole in the wall.

"And not that I'm not grateful," he continued, "but why in the world has this gone so well?" He glanced at Lefty and pressed his fingers into please-explain-this peaks.

"Because the Cogs did what they did for the Chairman," Lefty said, with an eye-flick Gyro's way to make sure she had the details right. "He was, like, breathing down their necks all the time – virtually, of course. Once he was shut down, that little voice in their heads was gone. All of a sudden, their programming didn't have a – a greater purpose, I think was what Gyro said?"

"Quite right, Lefty." Gyro rested one finger against his beak. "The Cogs still had the basic command to fight Toons left in their programming, but with nothing more specific than that to go on, they were floundering. When the Glitch took effect, they were essentially starting over with as close to a blank slate as possible. And, given that they were given all the same advantages any other new Toon would receive – the promise of safety and friendship – "

"And since most Toons turn out nice," Dr. D piped up, with more than a hint of sheepishness.

"Okay, that makes sense," Barnacle Bessie quacked. "But there's one last thing I don't understand about the Glitch. Didn't the Chairman say that it was worse in Bossbots? I mean, wasn't it the same Glitch for all the Cogs?"

Lefty got up from her seat and gave everyone a bow, arms Delighting in Curly's direction. "Take it away, Curly," she said.

Curly stood up, too, and cleared her throat to give the explanation she'd puzzled out pretty soon after the truce. "It was the same for each of them – free will. But the Bossbots were more likely to rebel. For the first time in their lives, the Cogs had a choice whether or not to follow orders and obey their Bosses. Now, see, for Sellbots, you could hardly tell they had the Glitch – the VP had always been nice to them, so they wanted to keep helping him. But if the Bossbots suddenly had a choice between the CEO and freedom…"

She didn't have to actually say the rest. It sort of lingered knowingly in the air.

Quiet took over for a record-breaking minute before Violet squealed, "I can't believe we actually did it!" She was glowing so brightly you coulda seen her in a blackout.

"And I believe that deserves a celebration," Flippy agreed. He snagged a scrap of paper from his hammerspace and unfolded the edges of its more-or-less-a-rectangle. Curly couldn't name the Toony, loopy shapes, but their bright sizzles of color put a sizzle in her chest, too.

"What are those things?" Lefty was leaning across the table, propped on her elbows, to get a better view.

"Trampolines," Flippy said proudly, flicking at one drawing with a finger. "Cannons. A Tug-of-War area. A Party Clock. In other words – Toon Parties."

"Sounds like fun!" Clerk Clara said.

"Yeah, I've had this planned for awhile now, but in all the middle of all the Field Office hoopla, we never got around to implementing it." Flippy's eyebrows wiggled at each member of the group in turn. "But maybe it was better to save it for the ultimate victory."

"Victory Parties!" Good Ol' Gil Giggles was all over it.

"Exactly!" Flippy shot him a thumb's-up, and Curly felt like that included them all, too. Especially when he added, "And we could sure use some posters to get the word out, so if any –"

Flippy was interrupted by a knock on the door – which promptly swung open to reveal a squad of Sellbots.

Every Toon in the room who wasn't Curly or Gyro went for a Gag immediately, Lord Lowden armed with a particularly nasty-looking Fire Hose that somehow pointed between all the Cogs' eyes at once. Curly herself flashed a bit of panic, before she really saw the scene. A Mover & Shaker strolled to the front of the group, the happy ends of his mustache perked up.

She could've guessed his serial number without needing to consult the back of his suit.

"Don't squirt!" Richter raised his arms above the head he shook. "We don't intend to attack. We come in peace."

Curly noticed – as if from far away – that Toon arms relaxed and the Gags lowered, though Lil Oldman kept his legendary Hypno-Goggles within grabbing range. She was more interested in what the rest of Richter's Name Dropper and Glad Hander friends were carrying. It almost looked like another Cog, a big one, only its boots were disconnected from its body and it didn't have a head.

Richter cleared his throat, reached into his crisp pocket, and produced a cue card he stared at for a long, long second. "On behalf of the entire Sellbot division, I, Mover & Shaker 11-12-97" – warmth gathered in the voice that was firm and formal as always – "otherwise known as Richter, would like to extend our most sincere thanks to Miss Weird Curly Megaquack for her efforts in restoring our boss."

The rest of the Cogs stepped forward like they'd been summoned with a Chief Justice reward, resting the whatever-it-was on the floor. Curly thought she recognized it now – maybe – but she couldn't let herself guess. She was almost afraid of her own joy.

"As a token of our gratitude," Richter went on, "we wish to award her the highest honor we can bestow." He gave the thing a gentle push toward Curly. "A Level 50 Mr. Hollywood suit – and an Executive Washroom Key, which will allow her to visit the Senior Vice-President whenever she wishes."

Oh. My. Gosh.

Toon HQ came alive with whistles and cheers, whinnies and quacks and cries of, "Whoa!" and "Holy Birthday Cakes!" They all sounded like they came from deep space to Curly. She could only stare at that suit, with the hole where her own little Toon head would poke through, until she was sure her eye-bugging would put a Flunky to shame.

The sticky-fingered little 'bots knew how to give now.

Curly's hand flew to her muzzle, and she heard herself gasp. A few tears – somehow fiery in a good way – licked at her bottom lashes and dribbled out onto her cheeks.

Richter looked, well, shaken. "Um, did I just make her go Sad?" he asked, poking a finger at Curly. "Because I didn't mean to do that."

"Nah. She's just happy." Dr. D grunted contentedly. "I don't understand women either."

It was amazing how much things had changed, the Senior Vice President decided one day.

He could see the change – the Glitch, they called it – in his Cogs already as they went about their daily duties with a little more spirit and a little more spunk. Their smiles, always quick and bright and eager, were somehow more…real. Their walks were a bit less stiff, and their voices were lighter when they told him, "Yes, sir." They had been faithful helpers from Day One, but the fact that their loyalty to the VP was now a fully conscious choice was like a fresh scrub of oil on his creaky old gears.

The VP didn't have a lot of experience with these kinds of things – but if this were what the Toons called joy, he could see why they'd fought so hard to keep it.

There was certainly no danger of the Toons running short any time soon. So many times he watched them travel down the sidewalks in huge bounds that should have, by the VP's estimation, rocketed them straight up into the sky.

The VP glanced up at Sellbot Towers' own black sky, still smoky at the edges from the factory but clear enough that the twinkly things were still visible. Stars was the word for them, Gyro had told him recently. The VP wondered if they, too, were symbols of hope, because every time he saw one sparkle, it thrilled him.

Then again, maybe the twinkle just reminded him of the magical dust that had saved the Cogs right there in front of his eyes…

Gyro. The VP still saw him fairly often. Not quite as often as he would have liked, but things were enormously busy in Toontown and Duckburg, what with the rescue of that nice little duck who'd once defended the VP against the Chairman.

The Toons were celebrating – happiness wasn't a new thing for them, but the VP had rarely seen it this intense. The bouncy sound of their laughter filtered in occasionally from the street – Oak Street, he had just learned. And while it wasn't one of his favorite things to hear – not like the factory's rattle-and-clank or the softer-metal pitch of a Cold Caller talking – it didn't grate against his circuitry any longer.

He'd spotted one particularly joyful-looking group of Toons hanging colorful posters up and down the length of Oak Street only a few days ago. Miss Megaquack was among them, perched up in the top branches of a tree, and the VP was so busy holding his breath that she wouldn't fall, it took him several minutes to realize that this poster was different.

No, he would never be observant. But even the VP could tell that this poster was facing Sellbot HQ.

In thick sweeps of green letters, it announced, "Victory Parties!" The beginning letter of each word was supersized compared to the others, taller and wider and more noticeable.

V.P.

The VP had felt his toothy jaw drop when he finally put the pieces together. Miss Megaquack had glanced up at him, winked a brown eye, and then dropped out of sight.

He'd smiled for the next six hours. Actually, come to think of it, he hadn't found a need to use the angry face once in the last two weeks.

And his office looked so much nicer without that rust-eaten old cage swaying around.

Miss Megaquack, now she was making full use of the Executive Washroom Key the VP had instructed his Cogs to give her. She visited every chance she got.

It was surprisingly enjoyable to watch her leap across the new shininess of the courtyard. Actually, that wasn't what the VP loved to see – it was watching her interact with his Cogs, the way she would smile or wave or call, "Hey, how's it going?" She actually walked up to Glad Handers and stuck out her hand just so they could have the pleasure of almost pumping her arm off.

Today, as usual, Miss Megaquack came running in, a blur of vibrant colors and floppy ears and one lopsided polka-dotted bow. She skidded to a stop right there on the stamped Sellbot logo, rearranged the bow, and dipped into a curtsy. Also as usual.

"Hiya, sir," she said.

The VP nodded to her. "Hi, Miss Megaquack."

Talking wasn't always necessary – which was good, because the VP tripped over his own words more often than not. He wasn't accustomed to talking to Toons, especially not in a friendly way. She was so – so different from him, with her electric-blue shirt and her equally vivid red skirt, her springy walk, her easy jokes.

And her carelessness. Today, she went right over to the edge of the launchpad and squatted down on her heels, craning her neck for a glimpse into the gray wash beyond.

Fear fluttered in the VP's chest. "Hey! Get back here!" he snapped. "That drop hurts!"

Miss Megaquack did pull her head back in enough to give him an everything-will-be-all-right look, and then went right back to peering down like she wanted to see what was at the bottom. The VP could've told her – a big hollow dent of nothing, stained with dry pools of oil and littered with a few treads that had been bent beyond saving.

Before the VP could even shudder at the thought, Miss Megaquack sat back and nodded as if she had made the sale of the century. "I was just thinkin'," she said. "You're never gonna fall off there again."

The VP felt himself turning red somehow. "Well, I wouldn't say never. I can be pretty clumsy, you know."

Miss Megaquack crossed back to him and gave him a pat on one tread. "Just stay away from the edge. You'll be fine."

It was the VP's turn to sit back, on his gear-waist, and fiddle with the flatter bulb atop his head. No more Toons interrupting Promotion Day with their sneaky Cog disguises. No more cream pies sticking to his eyes and teeth until they were all he could see and taste. No more of that plummet that seemed to take both three thousand years and three seconds before he landed.

He could almost feel everything lighting up another fifty watts.

"So," the VP said, "how's everything going back in Toontown? Your parties are going well?"

Those wild things. The VP appreciated a good office party himself, but the Toons went several notches beyond that. Blaring music. Big, round, rubbery oil drums they bounced on. Cannons they launched themselves from to see how many clouds they could ricochet off. Personally, the VP never wanted to see another living being fired out of a cannon again.

"Super," Miss Megaquack said. "AND we finally got the last of those Doodles herded out of your Headquarters. They're all back in the Daisy Gardens Pet Shop. Dr D.'s helping find homes for them. He's still better with Doodles than with other Toons. Except he did meet this cat named Miss Go – they really seemed to hit it off."

"Oh, that's nice," the VP replied – absently, and more to the last sentence than any part before it. He knew the Doodles were innocent, even Goon-like, in the grand scheme of things, but it was hard to care too much about the creatures who had almost caused his demise. "And…is there news of anything else? The trial?"

The VP could hear the tight-pipes sound of his own voice. Although Miss Megaquack had been hasty to reassure him that Toon trials were very different from Cog trials – much less strict and without anyone getting walloped in the head with evidence – the idea still dragged him to a nervous place that his entire bag of salesman's tricks couldn't break him out of.

Miss Megaquack's small purple face sobered for a minute. "It's still 'under discussion.' I told you they're letting me stand up for you, right?"

"Yes."

"Well, I made the case that you'd basically been lied to your entire life, and that you were just trying to provide for your Sellbots the only way you knew how. Plus if it weren't for you, none of us woulda even known where Scrooge was in the first place." Miss Megaquack nodded as if the verdict had already been decided. "I think they'll go easy on you."

That took some of the pressure off the VP's shoulders. He knew he couldn't have had a more faithful defender, as Toons went.

"How are the other Bosses doing?" the VP asked next. Communication between the Bosses had been restricted ever since the Chairman…left, and the VP was pretty sure the CFO was the only one who'd want to talk to him anyway.

"Well, I'm sticking up for them, too. Best as I can. The CFO grumbles a lot, but he's cooperating."

That was easy for the VP to envision.

"He wouldn't admit it," Miss Megaquack added in her yap of a whisper, "but I think it means a lot to him that we helped you."

The VP nodded. A strange lump formed in his throat, swelling the way his engine tended to when it needed airing out, but not the hard knot that had shown up so many times over the years. This was soft and comfortable, so unfamiliar it would've been frightening if it weren't for the tingles it dusted up and down his arms, like he'd managed to touch a star.

"The Chief Justice isn't talking to us much, period," Miss Megaquack said – and the VP didn't have any trouble believing that, either. "He DID say the conditions of the truce were 'reasonable.'"

The VP couldn't help but grin. "That's a very high compliment coming from him."

"I figured."

"How about the CEO?" the VP asked – after grabbing a huge breath. As far as he knew, the CEO was still near-universally despised, and it wasn't a fate the VP would wish on even the nastiest Cog still active today.

The pause was long and sharp.

"That's gonna take awhile," was Miss Megaquack's eventual answer. "I think a lot of what he did was because he was afraid of the Chairman – so now that the Chairman's out of the picture, things should get better." Her head shook sadly. "But he still doesn't really trust anyone yet."

An image of the CEO, shaking against the Chairman's chromework wall, threw itself into the VP's mind like a Half Windsor. "Do…do you think he'll be happy?"

Miss Megaquack didn't miss a beat. "Yeah. Someday." This pause wasn't as edgy. "I'll tell him you asked about him."

The smile she gave him was tiny but sincere. Toons, the VP recalled hearing once, were creatures of undying optimism.

It didn't bother him. So were salesmen.

Now what?

The VP let out a heavy sigh.

"Problem?" Miss Megaquack asked. One eyebrow was quirked up in an I'm-only-sort-of-making-fun-of-you look that she must have picked up from the CFO.

Oh. He'd almost forgotten that he couldn't do anything quietly.

The VP glanced down at his fingers, spread and gray and enormous – the same powerful fingers that had felt so powerless for so long. "I'm just not really sure who I am now that all of this is over."

Miss Megaquack tilted her head as if to ponder that for a long moment. "You're the Senior Vice President of Sales," she finally said. "You're everything a good salesman needs to be – upbeat and encouraging and positive and enthusiastic. You're gonna be great."

The red feeling crept up on the VP again, and he let his eyes drift toward the floor. Every instinct programmed into him forbid him from accepting what this – this Toon said about him. But those weren't the strongest things about him anymore.

At the very least, Miss Megaquack knew what he wasn't.

Which, in fact, brought him to the next question, the one that had been boiling inside him like the lava in the factory ever since the VP had found out the gist of last month's events from Gyro Gearloose.

"How did you know something was wrong?" he said. "I mean, what tipped you off that I had been reprogrammed?"

Soft squiggles drifted across Miss Megaquack's forehead. "Do you remember anything from those days?"

The VP searched his memory banks through the muddle of his own confusion, and what little he came up with was as empty and dismal as the area under the launchpad. A chill coursed through him. "Not really," he said. "It's sort of like when you wake up from a bad dream, and you remember being scared, but you don't know why."

Miss Megaquack's suddenly-round eyes understood – and seemed to ache, too, even with the full Laff most Toons' meters stayed stuck at nowadays. "Ouch," she said, as if his words had actually reached out and swiped at her. "Gotcha. Well, I guess what 'tipped me off' was…this."

With her tongue creeping from between her lips, Miss Megaquack reached into that endless space where Toons kept everything from their collections of jellybean currency to the black holes that could mysteriously transport them all over their town. The piece of paper she pulled out didn't look very Toony. It was grease-smeared, and the ink was smudged from someone's fingers, so that it looked like it had been cried on. Solemn as the Chief Justice, she passed it into the VP's huge grip.

The dense dark blocks of text, the official style for high-ranking Cogs, turned into a blob in the VP's vision. All he could make out was – Sellbot elite – distinguish yourself – handsomely rewarded – stop reading this memo and get back to work!

It slammed him in the chest harder than any pie.

The VP felt the springs in his stomach coil as he let the ugly thing drop to the floor. "Oh my gosh – I wrote that?" he said.

Immediately, Miss Megaquack began to shake her head, rocking the bow from side to side. "Hey, no – don't go beating yourself up for it," she said, in as stern a tone as he had ever known a Toon to use. "It wasn't really you."

"And you knew that," the VP said. It didn't come out as a question now – just amazement. It was one thing for the CFO to notice – he had always known an imposter when he saw one – but that a Toon had had such faith in him, after he'd kidnapped and saddened so many of them. . . It was mind-boggling. The VP wasn't sure he understood what it was, but he was very glad to have "it."

"I did," Miss Megaquack said. The sternness was gone, and her voice was so gentle the VP almost believed she would buy something from him.

Even stranger, he didn't have the urge to pitch a sale at her, not right now.

"You didn't think I'd turned on you?" the VP asked. He wouldn't have blamed her, at least not very harshly, if she had. Surely that would've been the natural place for a Toon mind to go when a Cog – a Sellbot with two faces, at that – promised one thing and delivered another.

Miss Megaquack cupped her elbows with opposite hands – loosely and freely, the way Toons did everything. "See, that's the thing. I knew you might have turned on me – on us – but turn on your own Cogs?" Her head tipped to one side. "Never. That's not the VP I know."

The VP's brain, which didn't move with great speed at the best of times, was close to completely overloading, but for once it was from happiness. No, joy.

"Thank you," he said. The words hardly seemed like enough, but they were all he had left to give.

Miss Megaquack's only response was her ready grin.

At least for a long minute. The VP had just catalogued that as her only response when he got another one.

A miniature screen popped up in front of him, the options almost too small for his bulky fingers.

Weird Curly Megaquack would like to be your friend.

*Yes

*No

The VP hesitated for only an instant before tapping "Yes" and feeling himself break into something deeper than a salesman smile.

At long last, the war was over. They had overcome.

~*I think Toontown might have originally come up with the Victory-Parties-leading-into-Sellbot-HQ "VP" joke. Or it could be my own brilliant creation for all I know. ;)

*Some Fenton for you, TheDiamondWriter.

*THANKS AGAIN! :D