Welcome To The World Of The Plastic Beach

[Super Mario]

And suddenly, there she was, in the heart of the city. "Whoa... what is this place...?" she murmured, as she turned about, getting her bearings. It was futuristic as hell, yet... not, all at once. A small grin set upon her face, as she began on the path forward. Where was she going? Well, fuck if she knew. She was just gonna explore, have a good ol' time. Luckily she made those sunglasses, because this place was all sorts of bright. A quick adjustment of her yellow coat, and she was taking off at a run, looking around the place.


There was a parade going on, and Noodle decided to stick around and watch. A cerulean dragon, a red octopus, you know. Basic parade fare. Ladies in peacock feathers and way-too-revealing clothing sealed the deal. Clichéd parade. She left, rather unimpressed with this so-called "party district". Maybe she'd find other places more bearable. Hopefully so. Hours went by exploring Costa del Sol. However, as it happened, she didn't. It was a really odd mix of culture that just shook her the wrong way. She considered leaving the verse, but had a better idea.


She extracted the OM from the Geep, (she'd resummon it later) got busy with another vehicle, a submarine, and went exploring the ocean. She passed a few islands. One looked like it had Pokémon in it. She was imagining that one, for sure. She saw an underwater establishment or two, and then she found what seemed to be a spot she liked. She'd stay here for a bit, for sure. That's about when a second wonderful idea took hold of her mind. An idea that made her smile with glee and excitement.


She'd build Plastic Beach anew. A base of operations for whenever the others got here. If they ever got here, that is. but that was besides the point. She began with the beach itself. Closing her eyes, she began focusing on the beachside, a amalgamation of plastic trash and oil. She felt her Omnilium reserves working themselves. But she could feel it. She had enough of the magic substance to make this happen. More and more, the bits and pieces came together, until finally, there it was. The beach was here. A large smile spread across her features. She was on her way.


Next up was the mushroom cloud-like spire that the island somehow kept standing. Concentration started filling the air with what was once throwaways, and sticky substances from untold disasters at sea holding it all together. A long time passed, but she remained determined to create this large structure. But she wouldn't have to wait for much longer. Everything fell into place soon enough. Now all that remained was the mansion on top, and the extra stuff in the interiors. This would be the easy part.


But, oh, was she wrong. Focusing on such minute details in giant structures was jarring at best. Certainly more difficult. Slowly, a white husk of a building started to come up from the ground- er, trash. It was more difficult than she'd ever faced in her rather short run of Omnilium building. As the bulk of the building was finished, though, it was less difficult and more tedious. Noting every small feature in the inside, every floor tile, man, was it a pain. At last, though, after hours upon hours of concentration and construction, it was completed. Her own plastic palace. Plastic Beach.


She parked her recently-created submarine at the dock nearby, and looked about. Everything seemed accurate to a tee. From the way the mansion loomed above her, to the collection of forgotten parts scattered around, it was great. She stepped into an elevator, taking her to the top of her spire, and to the entrance of the mansion. Deep breath in, deep breath out. She stepped inside, and it was exactly how it was before those stupid pirates attacked. There were a few elevators on the inside, too, showing the way to the recording studio, her bandmate 2D's underwater room, the bar, bathrooms. et cetera. She'd made it.


Everything on the outside was present and accounted for, too. The beat-up pirate ship, the lighthouse, the dock, the huts outside, and all of the things in between. It was beautiful. It was home. She went upstairs, to where her room was located with an exhausted smile. Damn, she'd really memorized this place well. Even her favorite sheets were set out on her bed. She practically jumped under the covers, and stared up at the ceiling, listening to the seagulls squawk outside the large windows. Her eyes drifted shut, and she was asleep in minutes.

Welcome to the world of the Plastic Beach.

[Super Mario]

The shining light of a late evening poured through the windows as the sleeping Noodle slowly opened her eyes. A dull smile found its way to her face; she loved sunsets. Sitting in her newly crafted bed, she watched the sun sink into the horizon, heralding the start of another night. Her first night in this Omniverse. So far, well, she wasn't disappointed. It was certainly a wonderful land. The only problem was that she missed her family, so to speak. The people she'd grown with for years. This revelation, despite the severity, didn't detract much from her good mood. She stood up, quickly stretching herself out, preparing herself for another bout of activity.


Though the elevator did lurch a tiny bit, which she'd have to fix, the way downstairs was peaceful, and quiet. Odd for this place, usually bustling with life. But she simply shrugged it off, and followed the path to the boardwalk. Noise was commonplace here, too. Bustling guests, running around playing the games. The many visitors to the plastic palace Murdoc, and now she, had created. All that remained was the forever-cheerful drone of the carnival music constantly playing from a nearby loudspeaker attached to the ferris wheel. Maybe she'd have to change the loneliness someday. But for now, it was fine.


The clear and quiet swishing of the water lapping against the bay filled her ears as she explored the little carnival on wood. She sighed, taking a few minutes to simply watch the water, glittering from the moonlight up above. It was beautiful. Really, it was the moments like these that made life worth living. But yet, it wasn't really enough. Even though she tried to forget, she was still longing for contact with others. That's when she got to thinking. If she could summon whole islands... could she summon people? She might as well try. Focusing, she imagined the people she'd worked with in the past, willing them to come into being.


It worked. After almost an hour, five fresh human beings. Lou Reed, Bobby Womack, and the trio of De La Soul. After a few muttered comments of confusion, they simply moved on, back into the island's depths. Almost as if they'd never moved. In reality, they hadn't. Their minds were taken from their time on the beach, before the attacks. Though she didn't quite understand, she knew what was going on with it. And so far, she was pleased. Five people on the island. She hoped that as time went on, she'd learn how to summon more. For now, however, she was content with what she had. This trash-filled island was really turning into a great place to be.


After all of it, Noodle stood at the end of the pier, leaning over the edge of the railing. She stared into the emptiness, thought consuming her mind. She'd thought of summoning her own band instead of the collaborators, but she'd decided against it. If Omni wanted them here, he'd bring them here himself. And she'd accepted that. Her mind drifted to the white expanse she'd began in, and the other seven arches. If the one with palm trees led here, she could only wonder where the others led to. The smoking one probably would have taken her to a hot place, like a volcano, while the smooth steel one maybe took her to a robotic area? Who knew?


Meanwhile, in the distance, a lone figure stood watching, hidden by a drape of fog, and the dark of his own black cloak. The only sign of anything even being there was the red glow of the eyepieces in his mask. He stared at the beach, hatred lacing itself into the glare. He'd already destroyed this damn island. Why was it back again? No matter, he'd still know where it was later. With a swish of his cape, he turned, and steered the ripped pirate ship away, back to the hub island. This place would have to wait, until he had more power at his fingertips. And that power was numbers. It was only a matter of time.


This bay of rot and disaster was quickly becoming a happy place. But how long would it last? Eventually, there was bound to be something wrong. It was just nature. Anything anyone of Gorillaz touched, was doomed in some way or another. Noodle sighed from her spot overlooking the ocean. The melancholy feeling still resided in her heart, no matter how much she hid it from everyone. Perhaps from her experience in Hell, or from the accident she'd died in years ago. But she was fine now, right? And this was a whole new world. Maybe lightning wouldn't strike twice. With this thought planted in her mind, she headed back into her creation.

[Strazio Rockwell]

A perfect day, on the perfect ocean. The bright sun hung lazily in the sky, warming the waters and those that braved them. Gentle lolling waves rocked against a lone fishing boat in the vast expanse of salt water. A single wire-thin line glinted in the light, a telltale sign of the patient fisher. Inside the boat rested an aging man, draped in ragged red cloak, covering his eyes a boonie hat obscured the lazy sun. His weathered fingers were wrapped tightly around the fishing pole, feeling every vibration of the ocean’s movement. He drifted between in that sweet line between sleep and consciousness. The one-armed veteran smiled softly as dreams of the past floated through his thoughts.

Isaac had left Christa and Katia, their reunion was a bittersweet reminder of his inability to bring back the dead. Primehood was awarded to those secondaries that braved the Omniverse to find its self-titled creator. The red-cloaked man refused Omni’s gift, hoping instead to bring his precious wife back from the grave. Unfortunately even Omni could not cross the realm of death, the deity could only create a sad replica of her. The dead would stay dead, nothing could change that. His grand quest, his search to rip his beloved from the cold grip of death, was fruitless.

Retiring to the Vasty Deeps was only natural following such a setback. The quiet life of a fisherman gave Isaac enough time to sort his thoughts and come to terms with the permanency of his wife’s death. The old man had spent many years out upon the sea, there was a certain sense of comfort that only the water could bring. For the most part his time spent upon the ocean was his and his alone, a quiet escape from the reality of the Omniverse.

The sound of a far-off motorboat shattered the sense of isolation that the one-armed man felt. He removed his hat and sat up, trying to catch sight of the obnoxious boater. A solitary speck on the horizon sped towards him at frightening speeds, leaving behind a massive wake. Panic surged through his old bones, this appeared to be more than a simple joyrider. Isaac’s keen eyes spotted some sort of mounted weapon, strapped to the aft of the boat. Two large muscle-bound men made up the small crew of the weaponized speed-boat. The red-cloaked fisher reeled in his line, a sigh escaped his lips as the day had brought few fish and now it was to be cut short by some hooligans. Escape was not an option, their vessel was clearly designed for pursuit.

“Oi!” the pilot of the motorboat addressed Isaac, “You’re Isaac Carter yeah?”

“I am.”

“The Bloodlance, Isaac Carter?”

Isaac took a moment to glance towards the sun before responding, “indeed.”

The hunter looked like he had just struck gold. He took a long drag from his cigar and released a cloud of smoke. The second man sported a mohawk and leveled the mounted rocket launcher at the Bloodlance’s boat. Isaac didn’t flinch, but kept his weathered eyes pointed towards the sun.
“I think you know why we’re here,” Cigar spoke with a voice of granite.

“You do know what I’m capable of right?”

“Yeah,” the whining voice of Mohawk-guy responded, “we also know you won’t kill nobody. So come with us quietly and we won’t have to hurt you.”

“Or don’t,” Cigar laughed, “bounty’s still the same if you’re dead.”

The wrappings around Isaac’s amputated left arm began to turn red with the stain of blood. Slowly, small crimson tendrils wormed their way through the wrapped bandages. Red ropes, glistening in the gentle sun, swayed in rhythm to the ocean’s waves. Isaac had earned his callsign from the macabre power that he possessed, his very blood was a lethal weapon of great power and precision. Whips of crimson smashed into the bounty hunter’s boat, ripping the nose to pieces. Mohawk-guy panicked and pulled the trigger on his weapon, firing a rocket into the water between the two boats. A moment of peaceful silence was had before the warhead detonated, decimating both boats and sending their inhabitants flying.

Submerged and bleeding, Isaac could hear nothing but a deafening ringing. A large splinter of his boat had lodged itself in his abdomen and his blood mixed with the saltwater. Pain smothered every inch of his body, but he still thrashed against the water trying to reach the surface. His head crested the water and his lungs filled with that precious precious air. Driftwood floated by the injured man, and the water had turned to choppy seas. How quickly things had gone awry astounded the battered secondary. In the distance he spotted salvation, a strange pink-hued beach. Wincing at the biting pain in his gut Isaac pushed forward against the current.

The oily-slick shore of Plastic Beach came tantalizingly close to the one-armed survivor. His red-cloaked waterlogged and pierced with shrapnel, but most certainly it clung doggedly to his flesh. With the incoming tide Isaac washed up on shore, and with his waning strength he crawled several feet farther than the reach of the tide. Blood leaked from his wound and stained the sand with the acrid smell of saltwater and blood. It was ironic he supposed, that he would fight so hard to stay alive after his trip to the Oververse. His precious wife Melanie waited in the afterlife for their reunion, and yet he delayed it by being so ruthlessly stubborn in the face of death.

She’d never forgive me if I just gave up.

[Super Mario]

Something was wrong.


Well, for starters, you don't just hear explosions for no reason. More often than not, it's something actually being blown up. And since she was surrounded by only open seas. So that could only mean one thing. Someone decided it'd be a good idea to attack the beach. Fuck. With a few muttered curses, Noodle stormed out of the room she was working on furnishing, grabbing her gun on the way. Cocking it as she ran, she approached the exit. A well placed kick brought her into the outdoors, and she scanned the landscape for something, anything. Nothing. Well, except there actually was something. A body. Left on the beach, with a piece of wood stuck inside it. Ouch.

She swung the gun to her back, leaving it dangling from its strap as she rushed to make sure the stranger still lived. 

"Hey! Are you... okay...?" No response. Damn it all. He was out. Checking his vitals, though, the one-armed man seemed to still be alive. But he really needed medical attention. And quickly. She picked up the man, and began carrying him to the interior.


-

Noodle sighed, head in her hands. This guy still wasn't waking up. And he didn't look like he would be, either. This was very bad. She even called in Lou to try to figure it out, to no avail. Honestly, she didn't know what to even try anymore. That's when he woke up. Slowly, and almost unnoticible until he spoke up.

"Where am I...?" he asked, tone slightly hoarse. Noodle's head jolted up, and she smiled. He was alive!

"Oh, thank God you're alright! Er, not actually alright, but you know what I mean. Uh, you're on my island, Plastic Beach. I, um, just kinda made it the other day. I would have tidied up the place a little had I known you were coming. Heh..." She chuckled lightly, grin still rather apparent.

"Right, um. I'm Noodle. What's your name, sir?" she asked, pushing herself to her feet.

"My name? Issac Carter," he replied, eyebrow slightly raised at the quirkyness of the girl. That was to be expected, though. She was sort of used to the odd looks. 

She nodded. "Well, nice to meet you, Issac! I'm afraid you've sorta been... well, impaled. And I have no idea how to take care of that." Her smile left, and transformed into a more worried look. This could be death, really. But hell if she knew that. "But I'm thinking you'll be alright."

The man simply sighed. This was gonna be an experience, huh?


Meanwhile, on a nearby ship, stood the glowering figure of the Boogeyman. Even this time, without his crew of ghostly apparitions. He stood watching the beach, watching the small ecosystem thrive. It made him sick. Well, as sick as a demon could get, anyway. He would get his chance to destroy this wretched place. It would be soon. The demon turned, to glance at where the ships nearby exploded. Perfect. Just a little more entropy in this world. It was just as he liked it. 

Just as planned.

[Strazio Rockwell]

Consciousness brought a pain usually reserved for war criminals. The shard of wound lodged in Isaac’s gut ached with every heart beat. He could feel the foreign object twitch against flesh and organs as his body instinctively shuddered. The girl that had taken him in seemed to be the kind sort, at least kind enough to bring a dying man off the beach.

“Thank you,” he spoke through gritted teeth.

“Oh it was no problem, really!” she offered him a glass of water.

Every heartbeat he could feel the obstruction, every breath sent survival instincts through his veins. Almost on instinct his blood reacted to protect its host. First it wormed through his flesh, collecting every splinter and pressed them against the largest shank of wood. Isaac grunted as his blood pushed against the skewer, slowly forcing it out of his body. A cold sweat formed on the old man’s brow as the wound was exposed to the salty air. His haemoglobin mastery kept the crimson liquid from leaking out of the wound, and it instead formed a makeshift suture. The puncture wound was tentatively sealed as Isaac tossed the bloody hunk of ship onto the floor.

“Sorry I made a mess,” he frowned and looked at the small amount of spilled blood.

“Are you going to be okay?” Noodle asked.

“Yeah, kind of” the old man’s voice wavered slightly, “I’m not sure how long I can hold this suture for, but it should be long enough to at least start the healing process.”

The Bloodlance walked over to the bay windows and stared out into the ocean. Some things never change. Even after his trip to the Oververse the Empire had not forgotten about Isaac Carter. Bounty hunters would keep coming in droves, until the old man was in the ground, and even then they’d probably exhume the body as one last “fuck you”. Noodle watched the crimson-clad man anxiously, he was still sopping wet, but he seemed not to mind. His focus was elsewhere, deep on the horizon and in the crevices of his own psyche. After a deep breath her turned to the girl and smiled warmly.

“This is a pretty impressive island you’ve made,” he paused for a moment, reading her expression, “reminds you of home doesn’t it?”

[The Humble Sage]

The Sage awoke on a beach, and gasped in pain. He clutched his left arm, as pain seared throughout the limb. He rolled painfully onto his side, as water washed past him. He glanced up please tell me I didn't wash up back on the island… looking towards shore he found one of the stranger sights he had encountered. The lower part of the island was normal enough, although the lamp in the lighthouse seemed brighter than any he had previously encountered,

but this was dwarfed by the part of the island that protruded upwards.

It was the strangest castle that the Sage had ever seen. The towers arched off in strange manner, many seemed to defy gravity. The Sage sighed, there was no other explanation. This must be a wizard’s tower.

Life continues to be entirely too busy for me to actually handle it… with a painful grunt he propped himself up on one knee and struggled to his feet. He needed help, the feeling in his arm was going numb, and spots danced in and out of his vision. He began to shamble towards the lower buildings, peasants would be more sympathetic to his plight than a tyrannical wizard.

He staggered along as best as he could, stopping to rest whenever he started to black out. He just needed to make it to the village. There were lights there, there would be help. He continued along with labored breathing. He had no idea how long he took to make it to the nearest house, but when he reached the wall he collapsed against it for a good minute before trying to move on. His arm was still bleeding, and he vaguely considered trying to tie it off.
He slid his way along the wall to the door of the hut. The street was quiet, but not unusually so for this time of night. He wondered why they all kept their lights on, since no sound was audible over the rocking of the waves. He reached the door, and raised his good arm to knock. There was no answer. He pounded on the door, again without reaction. In desperation he gave a hoarse shout and threw his weight against the door. It swung inwards and he fell into the one-room hut.

It was empty. He looked around at the pristine living-space, completely untouched, with the lightest layer of dust to show how long it had been derelict. The light seemed to be coming from the ceiling, some strange lantern hung there, its light steady. No people. No help. The other huts seemed equally quiet and he could not muster the energy to search them all. No one seemed to have heard the ruckus he made entering this house at least.

Perhaps the wizard preferred solitude. He was on his own. With a grunt he staggered across the room to the bed, drops of blood splattering the lacquered wood. He collapsed into the bed, and the temptation to go under nearly claimed him. With a growl of pure denial, he forced himself to focus. He sat up and grabbed the sheet with his good arm. Tearing a strip from the sheet he tied off his injured limb with his good arm and his teeth. Nearly passing out from the pain he let himself fall back into the bed. He had no energy remaining, and as far as he was aware he was alone on the island, without any food or water. At least he wouldn’t bleed out now.

[Super Mario]

"Well, really, it is home for me. I mean, I lived here a long time before... this," she replied. After all, it was at one point. The funny thing is, it felt more like home than anywhere else. Maybe it was the quirkiness, but this was where she belonged, really. And she wouldn't have it any other way, either. 

This man, Issac Carter, seemed nice enough. Of course, he did have that mysterious air that she bet told other to buzz off, but she'd seen worse at this point. The more pressing issue was the reason for him washing up here. How did that happen, exactly? Well, it was obvious she had to ask.

"So, how exactly did you get hurt like this?" she asked, concern still prominent on her features. There had to be a reason, yeah? Were there attackers nearby already? That couldn't be good at all. She wouldn't have minded so much if there weren't innocent people on this island.

-

Things had been getting hard for Bobby, lately. Age was catching up to him, and there wasn't much he could do about it. He'd be passing on soon. But hell if he died without a fight. 66 years wasn't that bad. He could still function. 

He'd been on his way back to the village along with Lou that night, and conversation was pleasant. Basic talks about the goings-on of their island were common, so this one wasn't very new at all. But that didn't detract from it all. As they stepped into the village, the lamp posts highlighted red drips on the ground. Blood.

That wasn't natural. Someone was hurt, and they needed to find who. So they began checking each of the houses, before discovering that the trail led into an unused room. When they came in to investigate, they saw a man, passed out with a bloody rag stuck to his arm. He wasn't a resident, was he? Reed didn't care, he needed to get help. And who else but the only "prime" (don't ask him what it meant, the explanation was too complicated) on the island.

-

"I'm so sorry, but something happened. I need to go," Noodle said, grabbing her tan coat quickly. She'd have to be back.

"It's fine. I understand," replied her "guest", as he slightly adjusted himself out of the slightly uncomfortable position he was in. Noodle nodded in appreciation, before dashing off into the night, towards the village. Whoever was hurt, according to Lou, didn't have much time on his hands before his death. She couldn't help but begin panicking because of that, and panic could get her killed. Damn it all, she didn't have time to panic.

When she arrived, Lou was pacing, and Bobby was making sure the stranger stayed alive. Good on him for that. She entered the room with a large first aid kit from a nearby hut on her back, and got to work properly patching his wounds. He had done okay by himself, but it needed extra attention. Once he was well-bandaged, she simply waited, making sure he stayed stable in his sleep. He eventually woke up during the night, after Reed and Womack had left.

"Hey, there you are. You okay?" she asked, a combination of joy and fear lacing her voice. He was alive, at least. What that meant was a mystery for now.

[The Humble Sage]

The Sage lay in the bed, his hastily bandaged shoulder wound staining the unused sheets with salt water and blood. In his fevered dreams, the face of his father, slightly distorted and wavering, frowned disapprovingly from the other side of his desk. The Sage was back in his father’s office, returned from his foray into the study of magic. But he had returned in disgrace.

“So, you can’t even be a wizard…. It’s a shame really. You are enough of a bookworm for it. You won’t get far in the military at this age son. What was the point of reading all of those expensive books if you didn’t learn anything from them, eh?” The image of his father crossed the room to gaze out the window into the grounds below. “We’re going to have to get you apprenticed to someone important, and quickly too… time you learned how to get ahead in life… this will look bad if we don’t have it handled by the time your brother gains his knighthood. People will begin to talk…” He sighed and turned back to face the Sage, sitting in his chair. “It would have been so much easier if you were a wizard. Just look at you. What have you done with your life?” The Sage glanced down, and noticed the long gray beard flowing from his own chin. He looked up in alarm to find his father’s face mere inches away from his own. “you have SQUANDERED it!”

With a start, the Sage’s eyes fluttered open. It was nighttime, and a warm ocean breeze blew in from the window, the curtains fluttering pleasantly in the brisk wind. A strange light hummed in the ceiling, casting light in the room better than any lantern he was used to. He glanced down at his injured arm. And found that it had been bandaged with a fresh gause, the blood and salt-water soaked sleeve of his arm had also been cut away, so that the wound could be accessed. He tried moving his fingers, and was somewhat relieved to find that things still seemed to be in more or less of a working condition.
He was unsure of the nature of the weapon that had been used against him, but it reminded him vaguely of the fire-lances that the King’s weapon smith had been experimenting with. Those devices had been the size of spears and impractical to aim at a single target. The smith had claimed that the power behind the devices was beyond anything else in the king’s arsenal, but his majesty had  merely scoffed; what was the point of a weapon you could not actually control? You would be as likely to kill the man standing next to you as you would be your enemy. Perhaps he would have found the Pirate’s weapons more to his liking…

There a noise off to his left, and the Sage realized that his mysterious healer was still in the immediate vicinity. The Sage glanced sideways, as the stranger drew closer. At first glance she seemed quite young, but the Sage realized that this was a hasty assumption, as one only had to see her eyes to understand that she had lost her youthful innocence long ago.
She had experience, that much was certain, and that was something that the Sage did not currently possess. He had travelled some in the past, but this was far beyond his experiences when it came to travelling. His grandest journeys had always been within the confines of the royal archives.
As she looked at him expectantly he realized that she had asked him a question, and he nodded.

“Yes, it would appear that I am after all.... I am thirsty though… hungry as well. Do you perchance have anything I could eat?” It wasn’t the most diplomatic of introductions, but the Sage could feel that he hadn’t had anything nourishing to eat for quite some time, and that his throat was quite parched. Still, he hadn’t had a good track record recently, perhaps he should be more tactful going forward. His father’s voice flashed though his thoughts, time you learned how to get ahead…
The healer was about to leave when he called out. “actually, could you instead tell me where I am right now? Who is it that lives in that tower in the middle of the island?”

[The Humble Sage]

The healer looked back at him with a quizzical glance.
“Huh? Do you mean the mansion? It’s not really a tower… at any rate, its mine.” She gave him a slightly tired grin “Welcome to the world of Plastic Beach!” she said, “I’ll see if anyone has scrounged up some food for you yet. Frankly I think some of them will be surprised to hear your still alive!” With that the young woman left the hut out into the early pre-dawn air, and the Sage was alone once again.

He allowed his over-wrought body to relax, but kept himself from actually going under, there was too much he needed to deal with right now. As the first fingers of the sun began to creep into the window of the bungalow, the memories of his previous island journey began to reappear with new clarity. The ships, the old woman, that faceless pair of eyes that had attacked him, it was all bizarre beyond imagining. That island must have been huge, and the sheer number of ships found there… it boggled the mind. The woman had said something before he left, talking about fires and words. As he sailed away, hadn’t he become incredibly ancient? He glanced down, remembering distinctly seeing a beard in the flash of the storm that had been raging overhead. But now there were no long white tangles laying on his chest, only the torn and salt-encrusted garment he had made for himself before he left. Had it been a dream?

Remembering suddenly, he began to search his person for the letter he had taken from the wreck. With a pause, his fingers found what was unmistakably the soaking wet remains of a leaflet. Then it had to be real, all of it… right? With a renewed interest he sat up, and began pouring over the note, attempting to gleam any inkling of significance from it. The paper was in terrible shape, though that was only to be expected after the trip it had taken. Water never just leaves; it always takes a little bit away as well. Still, the paper had been well-crafted, and in the light of the strange lantern he could still make out sections of the note.
The man, Jadeveon Clowney, was stuck in Cinnibar Island, with few men and few supplies. He had barely made it through the blockade that surrounded the island. He had supposedly determined the likely coordinates for what he claimed was a piece of a star. It seemed strange to the Sage that the man would be so interested in a meteorite, but the tone of the letter strongly suggested that this development would be of interest to his superiors, and the order which they were a part of. He and his bodyguards were trapped on the island, without the means to actually pursue the discovery he had been sent to make. The Sage felt a twinge of pity for the man, arrogant wizard though he likely was. And from the tone of the letter, this artifact was powerful and important enough to be worthy of his attention. The world may be strange, and his current journey had been less than smooth, but it was not so different from his own.

An artifact that was worth something to people in power, was worth more to the one that had it.

The wizard was cut-off, desperate, in need of allies. This was something that the Sage could leverage. But he would need to find this Cinnibar Island first, and he was lost on an island that could be frankly anywhere. He needed a reliable guide to the islands, or at least someone to get him to Coasta del Sol. Even as the thought crossed through his head, there was a sharp rap on the door, and a stranger walked in with a tray of food. The Sage accepted the tray readily, and ate as fast as he could while keeping up some pretext of civility. The stranger sat for a moment, then spoke, “There are dangerous folks in these seas, by the way… names are helpful things.” The Sage looked up with a feigned surprise, of course you’re suspicious of me, I just washed up on the shore with a bloody arm. Give me a moment to eat… He finished the food in his mouth before answering. “I am merely a humble sage, who ran afoul of pirates in his journeys.” Lou gave him a look as he returned to his food.
“Sure, and I like to play some soul in my spare time. Miss Noodle says she’s pretty sure you’re a prime, like her. Now I don’t know a lot about all this prime and secondary stuff, but Miss Noodle… let’s just say she can do some things that you wouldn’t think possible.” The Sage watched the musician as he continued, utensil straying to the bowl of soup at every available opportunity. “So if you’re also a prime or whatever, and you can do the same things she can? I think I need to know a little more than that, pal.” The guitarist finished staring the Sage down pointedly. Let’s see, how truthful shall we be with you, sir? Are you feeling particularly discerning today?

“Very well, I have recently left Coasta del Sol, en route to Cinnibar Island. I was… intercepted…by a band of pirates before I even made it to the blockade. The captain had some weapon that I’d never seen before, and I was struck with it in the arm. After a storm destroyed our ship I… made my way here. Is that a sufficiently elucidated explanation for you?” He asked, the slightest hint of contempt slipping through his honeyed tongue. Sloppy, that’s not how you make friends… that’s how wizards behave. He gave Lou Reed an appraising glance as he returned his attention to his rapidly cooling soup. The musician seemed to be mulling over the story, trying to determine which of the half-truths he was going believe.
After a time, the guitarist looked back at the Sage, who had found the bottom of his bowl. “And you are going to Cinnibar Island because why, exactly?” well, we’ve taken more than a sip of the skeptic bottle. The Sage sucked his gums for a moment, he hadn’t waited for the soup to cool at all, before answering. “I have business with an astronomer there…  I am afraid I will not tell you any more than that. As the matter is of a confidential nature.” Lou gave him a look, which the sage pointedly ignored before continuing, “Yoou wouldn’t happen to have means for me to get to Cinnibar Island would you? I’m not currently sure how I will get there.”  
The guitarist huffed “The only one of us here that knows a ship is miss Noodle herself. Now I can’t speak for her but…” Lou broke off as the healer, Noodle, entered the bungalow. “What am I doing?” she asked, having heard only snippets of the conversation as she approached.
The Sage placed his cleaned-out bowl on the table beside him. With slight effort, he moved himself into a sitting position. “Noodle, is it? Would you be able or willing to take me to Cinnibar Island? I have pressing business there.”

[The Humble Sage]

“Where?” the young woman asked, her blank stare clearly telegraphing her unfamiliarity with the location he was referring to. The Sage chewed his lip as he considered his options. “So none of you are familiar with the Island, I would guess then?” The young woman scratched the back of her head, “The name sounds familiar, Cinnibar… I know I’ve heard that name before.” Lou and the Sage exchanged a glance, as Noodle pondered. It was on the tip of her tongue! Her eyes snapped wide open and a large grin broke out on her face.

“The Pokémon place!” She exclaimed, and now it was the Sage’s to turn to reply with a blank stare. “Yeah! That’s the place where you can find Missingno! I’m sure of it!” she paused in her excitement, and gave the Sage a confused glance, “Are you saying that place is here? That would just be weird!” The Sage just shrugged at her, “I was told to meet someone there, but since I will be needing to take myself there now, I was hoping for directions.” He got out of bed, surprised at the speed of his own recovery  

“Oh. Sorry. I haven’t been here that long myself.” replied Noodle, sucking her cheek.  “Hey, I know! Maybe we can ask the old sailor guy!”
Lou looked up as she said this, “is he feeling better too? We’re turning into a veritable hospital. out here!” he muttered,
"I know, right?” Noodle replied with the enthusiasm of youth. The Sage got to his feet unsteadily, started to follow her, and nearly fell over. “Are you alright?” The young woman asked with concern, as the Sage slumped against the nearby wall for support.
“Yes, yes.” He replied hurriedly waving away her attempts to help. First impressions are important, even when the person in question has already seen you bleeding out. They halted for a moment in the streets while the Sage summoned his cane again, then proceeded up to the mansion. “We would have moved you here as well,” Noodle explained as she went, “But I wasn’t sure it was a good idea with the way you were looking.” They made their way up the stairs slowly, towards the upper portion of the island, Lou Reed staying behind, after making some excuse about having other affairs to deal with. The two primes entered the mansion, and Noodle led the way to the room where she had left Issac Carter.

“Um, excuse me? Issac? We were wondering if you… hello?” The Bloodlance was nowhere to be found in the room, and Noodle turned around with a furrowed brow. “That’s just odd! Where has he gone off to?” The two primes began to wander the halls, searching for the missing Bloodlance. The Sage followed the other prime through several rooms, many of which contained contraptions and oddities that he could scarcely fathom the use of. The girl claims she owns this place, perhaps she is an inventor of some nature?

They found Issac Carter on one the balconies, single arm resting on the banister as he stared out into the emerald sea. “Issac?” the young woman asked, “Are you feeling any better?” The old soldier turned to regard the two primes with his standard stoic grimace. “The wound? It’s healing, if that’s what you mean.” Noodle nodded “That’s good, you had me worried. We were wondering if you could help us. This is…um… actually… what was your name?” she said, turning a curious eye to the Sage who stepped forward onto the balcony that he felt was not nearly thick enough to be structurally stable. “I am but a humble sage, and I come seeking a route to Cinnibar Island. I was told you are most experienced seaman on the island right now.”

Issac Carter gave the Sage an appraising look. “You are going to get yourself there? What direction is north?” The Sage was painfully aware of the moment it took him to utilize the sun to find the right direction. He pointed quietly, eyes still locked with Carter’s.
“You’ve never sailed a day in your life have you…” the Bloodlance said, there was no contempt behind the statement, no subtle admonishment, it was simply the truth.

The Sage shrugged, “I did not grow up along the coast, and my youthful travels were… cut shorter than I would otherwise have preferred them. I will have to learn though. Cinnibar is still my destination, can you tell me how to get there?”
Issac grunted, “So that you can get nabbed by the first Imperial patrol you run into? They have the island in a blockade. You will need someone who knows how to get through that kind of thing. You don’t want a route to Cinnibar, you want a route to Blue Flame Island. You’ll be able to find someone in Bilgewater that can get you in.”

Now it was the Sage’s turn to look skeptical, “You want to send me to a smuggler’s port? How far out of the way is that detour? My contact will not be waiting forever.” not that he knows I am coming yet… Issac shrugged,
“it isn’t actually that far out of your way, a day or two south southwest of the bearing you would otherwise take to get to Cinnibar from here. The whole journey should take less than a week, three days to Blue Flame, four more to Cinnibar from there.” He gave the Sage a meaningful look, “If you get the right ship that is.”
The Sage nodded, “Show me how to get to Blue Flame then. I will trust your judgement.” Issac moved back inside and over to a nearby table.
“I’ll need a writing utensil and some paper for the map.” The Sage began to look around the room for something suitable to use. “I think there’s some paper here somewhere,” Noodle said, “I’ll see if I can find any!”

Carter shook his head. “Boy, you too are both new.” They both looked at the bloodlance, confused. “You’re primes for crying out loud! Summon up some bloody paper and let’s get to it!” There was a moment’s glance between the primes, where they shared embarrassment at not remembering, then the Sage began summoning a roll of parchment, and Noodle summoned a ballpoint pen and sketching compass.
In a short while they had the requisite materials and Carter outlined many of the more important locations of the Vasty deeps for the two new primes. The Sage copied down the locations and details into one of his books, while Noodle silently memorized the information. “…And that’s why you won’t be able to get through the blockade without experience. The Mermaid’s Teeth is a treacherous route for even the best of sailors. You are definitely not that. Get a smuggler from Blue Flame Island, they’ll know the route far better,”

The Sage stared at the map with a puzzled look on his face. “Why would they do that?” he asked, and the bloodlance raised an eyebrow at him. The Sage persisted “Why would they leave the route open. The Imperial navy surely has the manpower to extend the blockade to encompass the Teeth as well. Why do they leave a path to get through to Cinnibar?”

Issac grunted. “Because it makes their life easier. The imperial blockade is above all diplomatic, the Empire doesn’t want to make enemies here, the Navy is just applying pressure to try and leverage an alliance. Smugglers will always try to get through a blockade, some may sell weapons or defenses, but most are just selling food. Hunting down every frigate crossing the blockade would be difficult, there would no doubt be some that would get through, and your men are run ragged trying to keep up.” The old veteran fixed the Sage with a meaningful stare.
“But give them a dangerous path, they’ll use it, they’ll die, and you don’t have to lift so much as a single oar.” Carter straightened up to address the prime, “Oh no, Admiral Kizaru doesn’t make such simple mistakes as those. Any other questions, Prime?”
The Sage crossed his arms, but shook his head. “Now I suppose I will just have to summon a vessel capable of making it to Blue Flame.”

[The Humble Sage]

The Sage and Noodle made their way down to the docks, Carter remaining behind in the mansion. The Sage passed the rickety weather beaten old pirate ship that was bobbing in the docks. It looked strikingly familiar, but the Sage wasn’t quite able to place where he had seen it before. They reached the end of the pier, and the Sage began summoning a small barge. It would not be well suited for storms or the open ocean, but it could be manned alone. He would just have to stay close to the shores of islands he supposed.

After around ten minutes, the barge was ready. The Sage let out a sigh of relief, summoning something that large and intricate had been surprisingly taxing on him. Noodle looked at him with a curious expression. “You said you wanted to get there fast, right?” she questioned. The Sage glanced back at her, still out of breath from the effort of the summoning.
“And this boat would be the fastest I could steer by myself.” He replied, a slight hint of irritation slipping through. Noodle put her hands behind her head with a unconcerned shrug.

“I would just use a speed boat. You aren’t going that far, and it’ll get you there way faster…” she looked at him curiously, “You’ve got a kind of… exotic look to you. Do you even know what they are?” The Sage looked at her blankly again, and shook his head. “Ah.” Noodle said quickly, “That kind of explains a lot…” She manifested her own Omnilium and began to summon something. “Where are you from, or I guess when are… you know what I mean.” She asked as she continued to summon.
“I hale from the kingdom of Shallot, though I would imagine the name means nothing to you.” Noodle shrugged without recognition and so the Sage continued. “We are the foremost bastion of knowledge and learning, boasting both the most refined of cultures and the most powerful magicians. The Battle-mages of Syrdion are second to none!” they are also the most insufferably arrogant pieces of trash you will ever lay eyes on, but that’s besides the point. Noodle looked at him with something that could almost be construed as pity.

“So you don’t know anything about technology? Electricity? Engines? The Beatles? Sliced bread? That must suck!” she declared with authority.
The Sage gave her a look.
“Of course I know what beetles are! What are you talking about?” he asked with confusion. Noodle just shook her head and continued to summon the Speedboat.

After a short time it was finished, the Sage couldn’t help but notice that Noodle seemed far less fatigued by the summoning than he had, but he supposed it was probably due to his injury. “There you go, one fully functioning, state of the art, ready to rock speedboat! Free of charge, I’ll just extract that dingy you made over there, should be about the same amount.”
Yes, funny how that seems to work out… the Sage mused as he surveyed the strange sea craft. It was smaller, and while it was evidently capable of floating, the lack of either sails or oars left the Sage skeptical as to the boat’s use. “How, erm… not to be dense… but how does it move?” he asked Noodle after a short silence.

“Oh right! Sorry!” she exclaimed, “It’s got an engine, you just drive the ship like a car… er… well, you push the pedals, and the ship goes. The wheel is used for steering.” She explained, as the Sage boarded cautiously. It sounded manageable, in theory, though he didn’t like how little he understood about the way the boat worked.
“Press the pedal, steer with the wheel…” he repeated, “Seems simple enough.” he turned to face Noodle, who was still standing on the dock. “I thank you for your assistance, hopefully someday I can repay the favor. Until that day, I bid you adieu.” With that he turned, and began to inexpertly steer the speedboat out towards Blue Flame Island.

Noodle watched the small shape shrink before it was fully swallowed by the waves. She couldn’t leave right now, the other man still wasn’t healed yet, and Lou and the others weren’t really able to look out for themselves quite yet. She knew that…
But a part of her still wanted to follow… it sounded like a pretty sweet gig…

[Super Mario]

And there he went. Though she didn't quite think it was a good idea for the Sage to leave alone, she still had Issac to help heal, and a full group of people to care for. He'd be fine. After all, he had way more experience than she did in travel. Cinnibar could wait. For now, at the very least, she could wait.

"Miss Noodle. Issac needs you upstairs," Reed said from behind her, guitar strapped to his back, similar to her own. The sun was already setting; how long had she been here now? A few hours, maybe? She jolted, surprised by his sudden words. After a moment of settling herself, she nodded, and set off back towards the mansion. Reed stayed behind, watching over the water. Behind the fog that seemed to surround the beach, he noticed a dark figure with glowing red eyes. 

"M-miss Noodle!" The guitarist turned, glancing sidelong toward the other.
"Yeah?" she asked, eyebrow raised slightly.
Another look, and the figure seemed to be gone. Maybe it was his imagination. Perhaps memories of the Boogeyman Murdoc seemed to hate so much. He sighed. "Nevermind, it's not important." 

With a shrug, Noodle continued on, to the elevator. What could be so important that he needed her? Was he having a stroke or something? That wasn't good at all. The ride took a while, and it only increased her worrying. By the time it reached the bottom floor, she was bursting out and running up stairs.

A slam rang through the room, and Noodle was in the hurriedly-opened doorway, panting. "Issac... what's wrong?!"

He simply chuckled. "What prompted the rush?"

Oh. So he wasn't injured at all. Relieved, and also slightly annoyed that she had panicked, she stood straighter. "So, then what did you need me for?"

"You know he's not gonna last by himself, right?" he asked, knowing what her answer would be.

"...Yeah. I know. I have you guys to take care of, though. I can't leave you behind," came her reply. But, deep inside herself, she knew that he needed her help. The village could hold itself down, right?

"We'll be alright. I'll be alright. He may not be. Go on." 

Dammit, she hated making bad judgement. She nodded, no longer saying anything. 

"Go help him."


-

With a sigh, she entered her room, and started grabbing supplies as quickly as she could. A few changes of clothes, a book or two, her 3DS (don't tell anyone she was bringing it), her phone, and of course, her weapons and guitar. Satisfied with her packing, she strapped the backpack she had put it all in on, and headed back down to the beach. 

The Stylo was parked near a dock, in its car form. That wouldn't be of any consequence, she could change it on the fly. She quickly leaned inside, making sure everything was ready. It was, of course. Without even a goodbye, she set off into the ocean, following the trail of this "humble sage". 


A figure cloaked in darkness watched the shark-shaped submarine jet off toward an island that he personally wasn't aware of. Plastic Beach was unprotected. Now was his chance. He raised his arms, heralding the approach of jet fighters, two ghostly ships, and a hell of a lot of manpower, rather, ghost-power. Rain was falling...

...like rhinestones from the sky.