AN: I own nothing, except the Kilraei, the Taerisans, and whatever poor tatters of a plot exist herein.

            It began with the Kilraei losing something.

            The Kilraei, by the way, were a race of extraterrestrial lifeforms who had evolved significantly past either ducks or humans or Saurians. They had made it a pledge never to interfere with the lives of other races, due to some unpleasant experiences in the past. But a little observation was not beyond them, especially with the plane-shifting technology at their disposal.

            One day, they accidentally shifted a small Taerisan into the wrong planet. Taerisans are a species, hailing from a planet on the outer fringes of the galaxy, possessing neither sentience nor powers nor any noteworthy intelligence. What they are is small, fuzzy, and unbearably cute.

            The Kilraei knew that the Taerisan they had lost had landed on a planet called Earth – more specifically, in the city the humans called Anaheim. Well, no great matter – they merely set up portals in various locations throughout the city. Whenever a living thing wandered into the portal, the Kilraei's computers would scan it to see if it was a Taerisan – if it was Terran, then they'd wipe their memories and send them back. Easy as pie.

***

            Outside the Bank of Anaheim, a portly old banker vanished in a flash of light.

Received: one live subject

Point of origin: Earth

Parameters do not match; return to portal I.

            Inside the Anaheim Mall, a group of teenagers vanished.

Received: twelve live subjects

Point of origin: Earth

Parameters do not match; return to portal IV

Stop.

Query?
Third, fifth, seventh, ninth and tenth subjects have aberrations. Repair before returning.

Acknowledged.

            The teenagers reappeared, although some of them were a little startled to see that their tattoos and body-piercings were gone.

***

            In the Pond, the Mighty Ducks – giant alien ducks dedicated to fighting evil and playing hockey – were wrapping up their scrimmage.

            "Good game, you guys," Wildwing called out, lowering his hockey stick. "Grin, nice work on the checking…"

            "Who says?" grumbled Duke under his breath, rubbing a bruise.

            "Dive, will you work on your stick-handling a bit? Same for you, Duke – maybe you guys could do the maneuvers together…Tanya, do some speed-drills. Mal, nice work on the offense."

            Nosedive whispered something to Grin, which made the huge duck chuckle appreciatively. Mallory glared at the smirking Nosedive, sure that his comment had something to do with her.

            Wildwing rolled his eyes, aware by that look in Mallory's eyes that she'd be beating upon his little brother once again, and tried to find the words to defuse the situation.

***

            Later that day, Wing was wondering why he even bothered. He'd gone on a walk around the vicinity of the pond, breathing in the cool night air, leaving the chaos of Mallory chasing Nosedive 'round and 'round the base to the amused cheers of the rest of the team. Whatever Nosedive had said – and repeated, loudly, at Mallory's request, though Wildwing hadn't been around long enough to hear what it was – it set Mallory off on a rage that flushed her face as red as her hair. When Wildwing asked exasperatedly what was the matter now, neither Dive nor Mal left off the chase, while Duke, Grin and Tanya just looked at him for a moment and then began to roar in laughter.

            Shaking his head over the sheer nuttiness of his team, Wing rounded a corner…and disappeared.

***

Received: one live subject Point of origin: Earth

Parameters do not match; return to portal XIII.

Stop.

Query?

Massive inconsistency with regards to genetic structure observed. Rectify this, and then return.

Acknowledged.

***

            Wildwing blinked, momentarily disoriented. He didn't even know why. He'd just been rounding the corner, and then suddenly staggered, beset by dizziness. He shook his head once, regaining his equilibrium – and startled as the Mask fell off his face, clattering to the ground.

            Bewildered, he stooped to pick it up. Why had it…

            There was a shop-window right next to him, and out of the corner of his eye he had seen something that had disturbed him greatly.

            His reflection.

            The Mask again clattered to the ground as his grip loosened. Wildwing stared in dumbstruck shock at the image staring back at him from the glass. A gust of wind, oddly cold for Anaheim's climate, ruffled the edge of the jacket, hanging loosely on a suddenly slightly-too-small frame, but Wildwing didn't notice.

            What in the name of DuCaine?!