The royal masquerade ball is in full swing when suddenly, a thunderous crash echoes through the ballroom. Shards of stained glass rain down as a massive wingless dragon, larger than a grizzly bear, bursts through a high window. He lands with a resounding thud. Yellow eyes gleam behind a black bandana as they scan the crowd.

A collective gasp ripples through the crowd. Someone shouts, "It's the infamous bandit, the unflappable, Sparkles the Dragon!"

The dragon grumbles, "It's Mort. Call me Mort." He turns to a tiny mouse perched on his shoulder. "Hey, Theodore. I'll never find 'er with these blasted masks. Sniff 'er out fer me."

As the mouse's whiskers twitch, Mort fiddles with a contraption on his belt, retracting a cord dangling from the broken window. With a metallic snap, a grappling hook locks into place.

Theodore's paw suddenly points, guiding the dragon's gaze.

Tossing aside startled guests and upending tables, Mort makes his way to his target. With a flourish, he tears off her mask, revealing the princess beneath. A puff of smoke escapes Mort's nostrils as he exclaims, "Got ya!" In one fluid motion, he scoops her up and fires his grappling hook back through the window.

"Guards! Stop him at once!" the king bellows.

But it's too late. The dragon and his royal captive are already high above, being pulled up to the previously shattered window high above by his gadgetry. Once he finds his footing, he pauses to take a final puff on his smoke before slapping a "No Smoking" sign onto the wall and flicking the butt inside.

He steps off the ledge, princess in tow. Captor and captive abruptly drop out of view, one stone-faced, one screaming.