05-13-2018, 11:04 AM
Mickey awoke on the ocean.
He could tell, despite being indoors, because of the distinct feeling of seasickness that washed over him almost immediately. The mouse’s earliest job had been as a deck hand on the Steamboat Willie, and honestly, that experience ruined boats for him for life. First, Pete had been a terrible boss, considering he was literally pure evil, and any sort of ship reminded him of all those bad memories. Second, while most of the rivers they rode in the Willie were tame, if they ever hit rough waters—or dared to go into the ocean—Mickey’s stomach betrayed him almost immediately, just as it did now. As it churned, he rolled off the cot that someone must’ve moved him to and began frantically searching for a window.
The cabin lacked those, surprisingly enough; what level of the ship was he even on that didn’t have a window? He bounded through the slightly ajar door of his quarters and, luckily, it didn’t take long to find a staircase to the upper deck. The mouse sprinted up it as fast as his wavering body would take him, burst into the sunlight, and heaved himself over the edge, sending whatever Minnie had last cooked into the watery depths. The chunks tumbled out of his mouth and made a loud, squishy splash in the ocean. Mickey looked quickly away, raising his gaze to the horizon.
Ocean blanketed everything in front of him. No matter how much he squinted, the little archipelago he’d called home for years now was nowhere to be found. Had he really been out of commission that long? And where, exactly, had he ended up?
He spun around to take his first real look at his saviors. The huge wooden boat stretched out before him, filled to the brim with mysterious-looking creatures of all shapes and sizes. Some resembled mice, like him, but with tails shaped like lightning bolts; others looked like angry lizards with flames spouting from the end of their tail. Others, still, sort of resembled humans; others, different kinds of animals; some looked like nothing at all, balls of gas with eyes and a mouth just floating through the air.
What the heckskies were these things?
As he scanned the ship’s crew, a more familiar figure fought through the crowds until, at last, Minnie Mouse erupted into view, wearing a scowl and one of her classic judgmental expressions. “Honestly,” she shook her head, “You sure do know how to cause a mess, don’t ya, dear? Geez, oh, geez.” She turned up her nose and yanked Mickey away from the edge of the boat by his collar. “Now quit making a fool out of yourself in front of our new friends before I have to try and convince them I don’t actually know you.”
She giggled, amused with her own joke. Mickey, stomach still wishy-washy, did not quite see the humor. “But, honey—I’m seasick,” he protested. Minnie’s brow raised sarcastically, and she swatted him in the back of the head, the kind of light slap that would’ve said ‘shut up’ if that awful phrase had been in either of the mice’s vocabularies. A quick glance at the other denizens of the boat showed they had, indeed, attuned their attention to the two anthropomorphic mice now having a small spat on the starboard deck. Presumably they had all been going about their days, doing their work, until their prized guest had tumbled forth from the lower decks to present his dinner to the fish below.
“Do they have to stare?” Mickey asked, sort of a hypothetical because he knew no matter what he did, they were gonna. Minnie, for her part, rolled her eyes and scoffed, planting another light slap on the back of her husband’s head. “Owie-ow-ow!” the male mouse exclaimed, pressing a gloved palm to his skull. “Y’know that’s not helping my seasickness either?!”
“Go downstairs and summon yourself some medicine or something,” Minnie whispered in his ear in a tone that said something about that exchange wasn’t meant for all the ears that were turned in their direction. Mickey met his wife’s eyes and she gave him that look that said she was really trying to project her thoughts at him… but of all the talents he had, telepathy was not one of them. He scrunched up his face, trying to express his desperate confusion. “They don’t know we’re primes, dummy,” she muttered. Luckily, she was much better at understanding nonverbal communication than Mickey; he’d never been very keen on it.
They didn’t know the mice were primes. Okay, that made sense. Keeping their identities as secret as possible had sorta been their thing for the past year and a half, or so. “But who are they, Minnie?” Mickey asked, “who the heck-skies are these guys? And why did they rescue us?”
“They’re Pokémon,” Minnie replied, as if that should be obvious. Mickey’s face scrunched up in confusion. Was he supposed to know what the heck that word meant? Because he absolutely had never heard it before in his whole life. Minnie scowled. “You’ve been in the Omniverse for years, in the Vasty Deep for years, and you don’t know what Pokémon are? Did you hit your head on the Fountain of Infinity when you got here? Because you’re thicker than I remember.”
Trying his best to ignore the fact that she had just verbalized how long they’d been stuck in this heckhole of a universe, Mickey pressed on. “I’ve never heard of ‘em before!” he protested. “I mean… Poké-what?! What’s that even mean?”
Minnie let out a long, frustrated sigh, glaring at her husband. As she noisily expelled her anger, Mickey became acutely aware that their apparent rescuers grew more and more interested in their conversation as it became more heated, and he reached for his wife’s shoulders in an attempt to pull her into some sort of calming embrace. She, however, would have none of it, and with a growl spun around and tried to leave her husband behind on the deck of the ship.
“Wait, honey—” he called after her, grabbing her hand and yanking her back to him.
“I don’t know, Mickey, that’s just what they call themselves,” she shouted. Mickey placed a finger to his lips to try and quiet his wife down, but she simply grimaced. If she’d have eyebrows, they would be shaking with frustration by now. “They seem nice, and they have a whole island to themselves, and they aren’t Empire goons, so I told them to take us to their home. I figured it would be the safest bet.”
Mickey’s eyes grew wide and his jaw dropped. “What the heck, Minnie Mouse?!” he said, this time louder himself and using his wife’s full name, “We’ve been in hiding… for over a year… mostly at your urging—” Minnie tried to speak up, but Mickey shushed her, “—and now you’re just going to let some strangers take us to their island?! How does that make any sense?!”
“THEY SEEM NICE,” Minnie screamed, throwing up her hands and immediately storming away from her husband.
Mickey watched his wife walk away, frustration bubbling up inside his little mouse body. For years, she hadn’t let him leave that archipelago for even as much as a grocery trip. Despite all of that caution, the Empire found them anyway, and now that they were back to being legitimate fugitives, she was throwing caution to the wind and entrusting their safety to a bunch of, frankly, weirdo-looking creatures from some other island in the middle of a verse that was crawling with Imperials and Imperial sympathizers? Did she not see the holes in this plan?!
At that moment, Mickey became acutely aware that the Poké-things (or whatever they were called) were watching him rather intensely. They’d reached a level of staring, by this point, which made him quite uncomfortable, only amplified by the fact that he now found himself very much alone on the top deck. Well, not alone, he supposed; there were literally dozens of these little Poker guys scurrying around up here, eavesdropping on their conversation and now boring their eyes into Mickey Mouse’s soul. It unnerved him.
“Okay, hey, there’s nothin’ to see here, okay, fellas?” He avoided eye contact with all of them and hurried down to the lower decks, trying to find Minnie’s cabin. With any luck, she hadn’t decided to lock him out and give him the silent treatment.
He could tell, despite being indoors, because of the distinct feeling of seasickness that washed over him almost immediately. The mouse’s earliest job had been as a deck hand on the Steamboat Willie, and honestly, that experience ruined boats for him for life. First, Pete had been a terrible boss, considering he was literally pure evil, and any sort of ship reminded him of all those bad memories. Second, while most of the rivers they rode in the Willie were tame, if they ever hit rough waters—or dared to go into the ocean—Mickey’s stomach betrayed him almost immediately, just as it did now. As it churned, he rolled off the cot that someone must’ve moved him to and began frantically searching for a window.
The cabin lacked those, surprisingly enough; what level of the ship was he even on that didn’t have a window? He bounded through the slightly ajar door of his quarters and, luckily, it didn’t take long to find a staircase to the upper deck. The mouse sprinted up it as fast as his wavering body would take him, burst into the sunlight, and heaved himself over the edge, sending whatever Minnie had last cooked into the watery depths. The chunks tumbled out of his mouth and made a loud, squishy splash in the ocean. Mickey looked quickly away, raising his gaze to the horizon.
Ocean blanketed everything in front of him. No matter how much he squinted, the little archipelago he’d called home for years now was nowhere to be found. Had he really been out of commission that long? And where, exactly, had he ended up?
He spun around to take his first real look at his saviors. The huge wooden boat stretched out before him, filled to the brim with mysterious-looking creatures of all shapes and sizes. Some resembled mice, like him, but with tails shaped like lightning bolts; others looked like angry lizards with flames spouting from the end of their tail. Others, still, sort of resembled humans; others, different kinds of animals; some looked like nothing at all, balls of gas with eyes and a mouth just floating through the air.
What the heckskies were these things?
As he scanned the ship’s crew, a more familiar figure fought through the crowds until, at last, Minnie Mouse erupted into view, wearing a scowl and one of her classic judgmental expressions. “Honestly,” she shook her head, “You sure do know how to cause a mess, don’t ya, dear? Geez, oh, geez.” She turned up her nose and yanked Mickey away from the edge of the boat by his collar. “Now quit making a fool out of yourself in front of our new friends before I have to try and convince them I don’t actually know you.”
She giggled, amused with her own joke. Mickey, stomach still wishy-washy, did not quite see the humor. “But, honey—I’m seasick,” he protested. Minnie’s brow raised sarcastically, and she swatted him in the back of the head, the kind of light slap that would’ve said ‘shut up’ if that awful phrase had been in either of the mice’s vocabularies. A quick glance at the other denizens of the boat showed they had, indeed, attuned their attention to the two anthropomorphic mice now having a small spat on the starboard deck. Presumably they had all been going about their days, doing their work, until their prized guest had tumbled forth from the lower decks to present his dinner to the fish below.
“Do they have to stare?” Mickey asked, sort of a hypothetical because he knew no matter what he did, they were gonna. Minnie, for her part, rolled her eyes and scoffed, planting another light slap on the back of her husband’s head. “Owie-ow-ow!” the male mouse exclaimed, pressing a gloved palm to his skull. “Y’know that’s not helping my seasickness either?!”
“Go downstairs and summon yourself some medicine or something,” Minnie whispered in his ear in a tone that said something about that exchange wasn’t meant for all the ears that were turned in their direction. Mickey met his wife’s eyes and she gave him that look that said she was really trying to project her thoughts at him… but of all the talents he had, telepathy was not one of them. He scrunched up his face, trying to express his desperate confusion. “They don’t know we’re primes, dummy,” she muttered. Luckily, she was much better at understanding nonverbal communication than Mickey; he’d never been very keen on it.
They didn’t know the mice were primes. Okay, that made sense. Keeping their identities as secret as possible had sorta been their thing for the past year and a half, or so. “But who are they, Minnie?” Mickey asked, “who the heck-skies are these guys? And why did they rescue us?”
“They’re Pokémon,” Minnie replied, as if that should be obvious. Mickey’s face scrunched up in confusion. Was he supposed to know what the heck that word meant? Because he absolutely had never heard it before in his whole life. Minnie scowled. “You’ve been in the Omniverse for years, in the Vasty Deep for years, and you don’t know what Pokémon are? Did you hit your head on the Fountain of Infinity when you got here? Because you’re thicker than I remember.”
Trying his best to ignore the fact that she had just verbalized how long they’d been stuck in this heckhole of a universe, Mickey pressed on. “I’ve never heard of ‘em before!” he protested. “I mean… Poké-what?! What’s that even mean?”
Minnie let out a long, frustrated sigh, glaring at her husband. As she noisily expelled her anger, Mickey became acutely aware that their apparent rescuers grew more and more interested in their conversation as it became more heated, and he reached for his wife’s shoulders in an attempt to pull her into some sort of calming embrace. She, however, would have none of it, and with a growl spun around and tried to leave her husband behind on the deck of the ship.
“Wait, honey—” he called after her, grabbing her hand and yanking her back to him.
“I don’t know, Mickey, that’s just what they call themselves,” she shouted. Mickey placed a finger to his lips to try and quiet his wife down, but she simply grimaced. If she’d have eyebrows, they would be shaking with frustration by now. “They seem nice, and they have a whole island to themselves, and they aren’t Empire goons, so I told them to take us to their home. I figured it would be the safest bet.”
Mickey’s eyes grew wide and his jaw dropped. “What the heck, Minnie Mouse?!” he said, this time louder himself and using his wife’s full name, “We’ve been in hiding… for over a year… mostly at your urging—” Minnie tried to speak up, but Mickey shushed her, “—and now you’re just going to let some strangers take us to their island?! How does that make any sense?!”
“THEY SEEM NICE,” Minnie screamed, throwing up her hands and immediately storming away from her husband.
Mickey watched his wife walk away, frustration bubbling up inside his little mouse body. For years, she hadn’t let him leave that archipelago for even as much as a grocery trip. Despite all of that caution, the Empire found them anyway, and now that they were back to being legitimate fugitives, she was throwing caution to the wind and entrusting their safety to a bunch of, frankly, weirdo-looking creatures from some other island in the middle of a verse that was crawling with Imperials and Imperial sympathizers? Did she not see the holes in this plan?!
At that moment, Mickey became acutely aware that the Poké-things (or whatever they were called) were watching him rather intensely. They’d reached a level of staring, by this point, which made him quite uncomfortable, only amplified by the fact that he now found himself very much alone on the top deck. Well, not alone, he supposed; there were literally dozens of these little Poker guys scurrying around up here, eavesdropping on their conversation and now boring their eyes into Mickey Mouse’s soul. It unnerved him.
“Okay, hey, there’s nothin’ to see here, okay, fellas?” He avoided eye contact with all of them and hurried down to the lower decks, trying to find Minnie’s cabin. With any luck, she hadn’t decided to lock him out and give him the silent treatment.
![[Image: 2agonyw.png]](http://i68.tinypic.com/2agonyw.png)