04-22-2018, 09:59 PM
Erik Vrell and Victor Wolfe. It had been a looong time since the ninja had shared their company, and the two primes were a sight for sore eyes to Sasuke, even if Victor’s face did look like a horse’s ass. However, before much reminiscing could be done, Victor dropped a fucking monologue on everyone.
“You sure talk more than I remember,” the ninja quipped, bearing a cheesy grin at Victor as he accepted the syringe, “I guess you’re good for something other than banishing enemies after all, huh?” The assassin caught eyes with the Dante’s Abyss Champion, the psychic grinned, and all three primes shared a laugh. Fondness reciprocated and the moment lingered, however brief it was, indicative to a mutual resonance. They had all come a long way, their reunion had been uncertain, and a feat, in and of itself.
“Alright,” the shinobi said as he turned to face Erik Vrell, “let’s have it.” Now a far-cry from the fledgling psychic Sasuke had laid eyes on, just two years ago. Erik’s eyes came alive, and revealed a power of their own. A moment later the two primes’ psyches were linked, a replaying of Erik’s epic battle for the Chidori Blade in the Nexus was shown, and Colonel, a prime Sasuke had worked with in the past, was revealed to be Sasuke’s best lead to tracking down and locating the legendary Kusanagi!
“You two have done well, and New Babylon a great service.” The king’s hand began as Erik fell in line with Victor, “I’ll leave you with a message for his grace. When next he sees his hand, I will have shut down the raids on Nippur, and have not only have Deathchew’s head in hand, but Kusanagi as well.”
The shinobi accessed each of them with Sharingan blessed eyes for a moment, then turned about, giving them his back. “This time,” the ninja said, with his head turned over shoulder, and a farewell hand raised while departing, “try not to let our city fall apart while I’m gone.”
---
Acoustics sand-subdued; the muffled sounds of horse hooves pounding against the desert, followed by a gust of grit, left in the wake of a night rider, pursuing the sky’s further most North Star. Cloaked and veiled in Arabian garb, the rider tore through the verse, until it arrived upon the debris of a forgotten and forsaken civilization. Dismounting, the rider fastened their steed to a nearby hitching post, and proceeded to enter a grand and sprawling pyramid; the likes of which scrapped the belly of the verse’s heavens.
“How can this be true?!” Exclaimed the monstrous tyrant, with a fist slammed against his dinner table, and a mouthful of food barely contained. His maw glistened with salvia, blood, and the flesh of his latest kill while he spoke, “Everyone knows Gilgamesh is gone.”
“Yes, bb-baron, but I’ve seen him,” the night rider professed, now unveiled, and appearing timid under scrutiny, he continued, “with my own two eyes, I’ve seen him!”
“I’ve heard this tale before.” Deathchew spat as he proceeded to devour his meal, “I grow tired of hearing it.” The baron spoke between pieces of torn meat, “He was met with banishment at the hands of that pigman, Gannondorf.”
“I know, bu-” the messenger began, but was cut off by the baron.
“A fine day it was,” the baron proclaimed, “such a glorious day it is, when we find ourselves rid of two false kings, is it not?” His glare menacing and terrifying, it swallowed enemies whole; hungry hawk eyes surveyed and accessed the inner-depths of the night rider.
“Yes, my baron,” the rider, careful not to misstep, answered uneasily, “it is. A great day indeed.”
“And, once he was gone,” Deathchew continued, “blonde fucks began popping up all over the omni-forsaken place.” Grabbing hold of a charred piece of forearm, likely the spoils of a Nippur raid, the cannibal king gnawed at the human meat, as though it was the finest baby back ribs. “I grow tired of slaughtering false kings.”
“This one is the real deal,” the rider spoke up, determined to be heard, for fear of the consequences not to be, “he raised an entire hospital with his bare hands. Gilgamesh has returned.”
Suddenly, if for only but a moment, there was a gleam in the baron’s eyes, then it passed, and the tyrant leaned forward over the table. “This,” the baron began, his severed limb now abandoned, but his saliva thick as ever, “you are certain of this? He is the genuine artifact?”
“Yes,” the spy nodded, “he has clawed out of the pits of the Underverse, and reclaimed his city. This is who you have been waiting for, this is the Gilgamesh of Legend, my baron.” Revealing his sightings, the rider felt proud, accomplished, and optimistic of his future. He regretted it immediately.
“LEGEND?!” The baron erupted, took to his feet while brandishing his favored steel, and drove it through the messenger’s chest, skewering him instantly. “The only fable worth telling in the Dunes,” the baron snarled as he twisted the blade, “is that of my legacy.”
Shocked, the night rider clenched hold of the baron’s garments in anguish until, several seconds later, he slumped over onto the dinner table, dead. Deathchew placed a thumb to a finger scan on the table, and a beat later, an intercom buzzed to life. “Giles, place the outposts on alert and ready our forces.”
“War, my baron?” the com responded.
Deathchew retrieved his blade from the dead messenger, used it to slice the head from the rider’s corpse, and raised it above his face with his tongue out, attempting to consume the falling bits and blood. His blood coated finger pushed the scan again, and the com ended with, “We’re always at war.”
---
“Five?” Sasuke asked, once Kuzuru had finished the retelling of the dead man’s story. Under the pale of the moonlit sky, the pair of primes had made their way through the bazaar. They were now exiting the city of Nippur, into the biting cold of an Endless Dune’s arid night.
“That’s what the dead guy said,” the demon replied, while pointing out the separate directions ahead of them, “two outposts and a main hideout, five stories high.” He extended his arm to its length for a visual aid.
“I see,” the shinobi pondered quizzically, “one to the northeast, one to the northwest, and the main encampment is a pyramid, far north, into the deepest part of the dunes.” Sasuke looked to the Ashen Blade for confirmation; his cloak pulled tight, as the duo traversed the sands away from Nippur.
“Among the wreckage of a lost civilization.” Kuzuru elaborated, playing it up with theatrical emphasis, and a wave of his arm across the sky, displaying true showmanship. “Deathchew has resurrected a once condemned pyramid, and fashioned it to be his, unholiest of unholiest, sick-ass, evil lair.” The demon erupted in cachinnation. Cackles, snorts, and gleeful guffawing overcame Kuzuru as he used a hand to wipe a joyful tear from his eye, grinned, and said, “I think I might like this Deathchew guy.”
“I think,” the shinobi said, having continued his pace, leaving the demon behind, “I might have preferred it when dead men didn’t talk.” The ninja wanted to get this over with quickly, the baron’s execution was long overdue, and Sasuke’s extensive list of things to do grew more cumbersome by the day.
“Say what you will,” Kuzuru said as he caught up, closing the distance between them, “but the guy has a knack for grandeur.” Mischievous, the demon wore an ornery countenance as he prodded his companion, eager to rile a reaction.
“Well,” the shinobi grinned, “after I am done with him, you can ask him all about it.” Kuzurua raised an eyebrow and Sasuke didn’t disappoint, “From the afterlife that is.” They shared a laugh, picked up their pace, and left the kingdom of New Babylon behind them.
“You sure talk more than I remember,” the ninja quipped, bearing a cheesy grin at Victor as he accepted the syringe, “I guess you’re good for something other than banishing enemies after all, huh?” The assassin caught eyes with the Dante’s Abyss Champion, the psychic grinned, and all three primes shared a laugh. Fondness reciprocated and the moment lingered, however brief it was, indicative to a mutual resonance. They had all come a long way, their reunion had been uncertain, and a feat, in and of itself.
“Alright,” the shinobi said as he turned to face Erik Vrell, “let’s have it.” Now a far-cry from the fledgling psychic Sasuke had laid eyes on, just two years ago. Erik’s eyes came alive, and revealed a power of their own. A moment later the two primes’ psyches were linked, a replaying of Erik’s epic battle for the Chidori Blade in the Nexus was shown, and Colonel, a prime Sasuke had worked with in the past, was revealed to be Sasuke’s best lead to tracking down and locating the legendary Kusanagi!
“You two have done well, and New Babylon a great service.” The king’s hand began as Erik fell in line with Victor, “I’ll leave you with a message for his grace. When next he sees his hand, I will have shut down the raids on Nippur, and have not only have Deathchew’s head in hand, but Kusanagi as well.”
The shinobi accessed each of them with Sharingan blessed eyes for a moment, then turned about, giving them his back. “This time,” the ninja said, with his head turned over shoulder, and a farewell hand raised while departing, “try not to let our city fall apart while I’m gone.”
---
Acoustics sand-subdued; the muffled sounds of horse hooves pounding against the desert, followed by a gust of grit, left in the wake of a night rider, pursuing the sky’s further most North Star. Cloaked and veiled in Arabian garb, the rider tore through the verse, until it arrived upon the debris of a forgotten and forsaken civilization. Dismounting, the rider fastened their steed to a nearby hitching post, and proceeded to enter a grand and sprawling pyramid; the likes of which scrapped the belly of the verse’s heavens.
“How can this be true?!” Exclaimed the monstrous tyrant, with a fist slammed against his dinner table, and a mouthful of food barely contained. His maw glistened with salvia, blood, and the flesh of his latest kill while he spoke, “Everyone knows Gilgamesh is gone.”
“Yes, bb-baron, but I’ve seen him,” the night rider professed, now unveiled, and appearing timid under scrutiny, he continued, “with my own two eyes, I’ve seen him!”
“I’ve heard this tale before.” Deathchew spat as he proceeded to devour his meal, “I grow tired of hearing it.” The baron spoke between pieces of torn meat, “He was met with banishment at the hands of that pigman, Gannondorf.”
“I know, bu-” the messenger began, but was cut off by the baron.
“A fine day it was,” the baron proclaimed, “such a glorious day it is, when we find ourselves rid of two false kings, is it not?” His glare menacing and terrifying, it swallowed enemies whole; hungry hawk eyes surveyed and accessed the inner-depths of the night rider.
“Yes, my baron,” the rider, careful not to misstep, answered uneasily, “it is. A great day indeed.”
“And, once he was gone,” Deathchew continued, “blonde fucks began popping up all over the omni-forsaken place.” Grabbing hold of a charred piece of forearm, likely the spoils of a Nippur raid, the cannibal king gnawed at the human meat, as though it was the finest baby back ribs. “I grow tired of slaughtering false kings.”
“This one is the real deal,” the rider spoke up, determined to be heard, for fear of the consequences not to be, “he raised an entire hospital with his bare hands. Gilgamesh has returned.”
Suddenly, if for only but a moment, there was a gleam in the baron’s eyes, then it passed, and the tyrant leaned forward over the table. “This,” the baron began, his severed limb now abandoned, but his saliva thick as ever, “you are certain of this? He is the genuine artifact?”
“Yes,” the spy nodded, “he has clawed out of the pits of the Underverse, and reclaimed his city. This is who you have been waiting for, this is the Gilgamesh of Legend, my baron.” Revealing his sightings, the rider felt proud, accomplished, and optimistic of his future. He regretted it immediately.
“LEGEND?!” The baron erupted, took to his feet while brandishing his favored steel, and drove it through the messenger’s chest, skewering him instantly. “The only fable worth telling in the Dunes,” the baron snarled as he twisted the blade, “is that of my legacy.”
Shocked, the night rider clenched hold of the baron’s garments in anguish until, several seconds later, he slumped over onto the dinner table, dead. Deathchew placed a thumb to a finger scan on the table, and a beat later, an intercom buzzed to life. “Giles, place the outposts on alert and ready our forces.”
“War, my baron?” the com responded.
Deathchew retrieved his blade from the dead messenger, used it to slice the head from the rider’s corpse, and raised it above his face with his tongue out, attempting to consume the falling bits and blood. His blood coated finger pushed the scan again, and the com ended with, “We’re always at war.”
---
“Five?” Sasuke asked, once Kuzuru had finished the retelling of the dead man’s story. Under the pale of the moonlit sky, the pair of primes had made their way through the bazaar. They were now exiting the city of Nippur, into the biting cold of an Endless Dune’s arid night.
“That’s what the dead guy said,” the demon replied, while pointing out the separate directions ahead of them, “two outposts and a main hideout, five stories high.” He extended his arm to its length for a visual aid.
“I see,” the shinobi pondered quizzically, “one to the northeast, one to the northwest, and the main encampment is a pyramid, far north, into the deepest part of the dunes.” Sasuke looked to the Ashen Blade for confirmation; his cloak pulled tight, as the duo traversed the sands away from Nippur.
“Among the wreckage of a lost civilization.” Kuzuru elaborated, playing it up with theatrical emphasis, and a wave of his arm across the sky, displaying true showmanship. “Deathchew has resurrected a once condemned pyramid, and fashioned it to be his, unholiest of unholiest, sick-ass, evil lair.” The demon erupted in cachinnation. Cackles, snorts, and gleeful guffawing overcame Kuzuru as he used a hand to wipe a joyful tear from his eye, grinned, and said, “I think I might like this Deathchew guy.”
“I think,” the shinobi said, having continued his pace, leaving the demon behind, “I might have preferred it when dead men didn’t talk.” The ninja wanted to get this over with quickly, the baron’s execution was long overdue, and Sasuke’s extensive list of things to do grew more cumbersome by the day.
“Say what you will,” Kuzuru said as he caught up, closing the distance between them, “but the guy has a knack for grandeur.” Mischievous, the demon wore an ornery countenance as he prodded his companion, eager to rile a reaction.
“Well,” the shinobi grinned, “after I am done with him, you can ask him all about it.” Kuzurua raised an eyebrow and Sasuke didn’t disappoint, “From the afterlife that is.” They shared a laugh, picked up their pace, and left the kingdom of New Babylon behind them.
Dante's Abyss 2015
GRAND CHAMPION
![[Image: Sasuke_DA_zpsb4vizgxd.png]](http://www.cytokineindustries.com/chevereto/images/2018/02/07/Sasuke_DA_zpsb4vizgxd.png)
Mark Twain Wrote:"The difference between the right word and the almost right word is the difference between lightning and a lightning bug."