06-01-2018, 12:09 PM
The time Mickey Mouse spent being whisked off to the Dante Verse in one of their fancy-schmancy teleportation devices was decidedly small compared to how much his stomach dropped when he arrived and saw all the warriors gathered. Although no blood had been shed just yet, the smell of the preshow facility still reminded Mickey of gore and carnage. A long hallway stretched out before him, petering off into paths to other areas and filled to the brim with creatures of all shapes, sizes, and moral compasses. They fluttered throughout the place, an eerie air of camaraderie blanketing the grand foyer—a striking juxtaposition to the violent delights that would soon take place.
The pit in his stomach felt strangely similar to the one he’d felt way back when at his first Dante’s Abyss, his identity hidden and shaking in his shoes at the prospect of going toe to toe with the big guys. Nevertheless, he attempted to adopt the enthusiastic demeanor of the other fighters and plunged headlong into the crowds, weaving between their huge legs. He’d forgotten just how intimidating these guys could be.
Why, again, had he decided to put himself through this?
For justice, he supposed—to finish what Samus started and banish Karl Jak once and for all, ridding the Omniverse of one more no good bad guy. That was what heroes did—they figured out how to empty to world of its most deplorable villains and followed through.
Samus had failed to arrest Jak the last time any member of MESH dared cross into the purple-suited dude’s home turf; Mickey wouldn’t let himself do that. He’d win this competition, and he’d corner the loser and send him off to the Underverse for good. He didn’t really believe in banishment as a punishment—but he wasn’t doing this for himself. He was doing it for Samus, and for the good of Omniversians everywhere. Like little Susie.
Winning, he discovered, was going to be a little harder than he thought. The number of potential competitors was massive, and the majority of them seemed unfamiliar; Mickey spotted a face or two in the crowd he recognized, but for the most part, they all seemed like total strangers. Well, total strangers and Blues.
Wait.
Blues?!
Mickey clambered up the back of a large man and stood on his shoulders for a second, ignoring his protests and dodging his gargantuan fist as it tried to sway him away like a pest. He squinted a bit and sure enough, just across the chamber, he spotted his best buddy’s characteristic crimson armor, yellow scarf, and sun glasses. Thank goodness—a friendly face amidst an ocean of unknown ones.
“Blues!” he called out, and the preteen machine perked up at the squeaky sound and quickly scanned the room, finally locking eyes with the mouse.
“Mickey!”
Proto Man and Mickey Mouse darted at each other, shoving through the crowd and diving beneath the legs of much larger warriors until, at last, they’d fallen into each other’s arms. The king squeezed his buddy tightly, debating whether or not he’d ever let go.
“It’s so dang good to see you, Blues,” Mickey whimpered in his friend’s metallic shoulder.
The preteen machine nodded, stepping out of the embrace. “You too, Mick,” he smiled, and for a moment, the two didn’t even speak—they just relished in finally being reunited. After being separated for so long, the irony of finally rediscovering his bud here in this heckhole was not lost for the mouse. “I’ve got so much to catch you up on,” Blues broke the silence.
“I heard a little,” Mickey shrugged, remembering how Minnie had mentioned the weird dark force thing tons of primes had been off fighting. “But I’m gonna need some details, pal!” He slapped Proto Man playfully on the arm.
“Oh yea, of course,” Blues nodded, “But Mickey—what are you doing here?” The preteen machine gestured toward the sticker on his shirt with a number on it. “Did you sign up?”
Mickey but his lip. “Yeah.”
“But I thought you said—“
“I’ve got my reasons, Blues,” the mouse waved it off. Yes, he’d sworn to himself that he’d never return to the Dante Verse and yet here he was, undoubtedly about to watch some friends and some not so much get brutally murdered. He supposed if he left here with some more permanent psychological scarring, he’d only have himself to blame.
Tentatively, Mickey reached into his pocket and dug out the banishment circle, flashing it to Blues. “I’m gonna get him, Blues,” Mickey whispered. “I’m gonna finish what Samus started and get Karl Jak.”
“Mickey,” Proto Man reached out and grabbed his friend by the shoulder, pulling him close. “Mickey, it’s too dangerous,” the preteen machine protested, “That guy’s too powerful. And my sensors are saying he’s somehow disabled banishment circles here. I don’t know how he can do that, but...”
“...you mean it’s not gonna work?” Mickey’s eyes widened a bit and he said some not nice words to himself. There had to be some way to take this dude down, right?
“I don’t think so—and, um,” Blues’ eyes traveled up above Mickey and focused in on the teleporter. “...speaking of banishment,” he said, forebodingly, “Don’t look now, but we’ve got big trouble.”
Mickey didn’t really follow that command—‘don’t look now’—and immediately spun around. Stepping out of the teleporter was an all too familiar mane of golden hair, and a smile that sparkled too much for the dirty soul it belonged to. Mickey and Blues hadn’t scowled this much in years.
“Oh, geez.”
The pit in his stomach felt strangely similar to the one he’d felt way back when at his first Dante’s Abyss, his identity hidden and shaking in his shoes at the prospect of going toe to toe with the big guys. Nevertheless, he attempted to adopt the enthusiastic demeanor of the other fighters and plunged headlong into the crowds, weaving between their huge legs. He’d forgotten just how intimidating these guys could be.
Why, again, had he decided to put himself through this?
For justice, he supposed—to finish what Samus started and banish Karl Jak once and for all, ridding the Omniverse of one more no good bad guy. That was what heroes did—they figured out how to empty to world of its most deplorable villains and followed through.
Samus had failed to arrest Jak the last time any member of MESH dared cross into the purple-suited dude’s home turf; Mickey wouldn’t let himself do that. He’d win this competition, and he’d corner the loser and send him off to the Underverse for good. He didn’t really believe in banishment as a punishment—but he wasn’t doing this for himself. He was doing it for Samus, and for the good of Omniversians everywhere. Like little Susie.
Winning, he discovered, was going to be a little harder than he thought. The number of potential competitors was massive, and the majority of them seemed unfamiliar; Mickey spotted a face or two in the crowd he recognized, but for the most part, they all seemed like total strangers. Well, total strangers and Blues.
Wait.
Blues?!
Mickey clambered up the back of a large man and stood on his shoulders for a second, ignoring his protests and dodging his gargantuan fist as it tried to sway him away like a pest. He squinted a bit and sure enough, just across the chamber, he spotted his best buddy’s characteristic crimson armor, yellow scarf, and sun glasses. Thank goodness—a friendly face amidst an ocean of unknown ones.
“Blues!” he called out, and the preteen machine perked up at the squeaky sound and quickly scanned the room, finally locking eyes with the mouse.
“Mickey!”
Proto Man and Mickey Mouse darted at each other, shoving through the crowd and diving beneath the legs of much larger warriors until, at last, they’d fallen into each other’s arms. The king squeezed his buddy tightly, debating whether or not he’d ever let go.
“It’s so dang good to see you, Blues,” Mickey whimpered in his friend’s metallic shoulder.
The preteen machine nodded, stepping out of the embrace. “You too, Mick,” he smiled, and for a moment, the two didn’t even speak—they just relished in finally being reunited. After being separated for so long, the irony of finally rediscovering his bud here in this heckhole was not lost for the mouse. “I’ve got so much to catch you up on,” Blues broke the silence.
“I heard a little,” Mickey shrugged, remembering how Minnie had mentioned the weird dark force thing tons of primes had been off fighting. “But I’m gonna need some details, pal!” He slapped Proto Man playfully on the arm.
“Oh yea, of course,” Blues nodded, “But Mickey—what are you doing here?” The preteen machine gestured toward the sticker on his shirt with a number on it. “Did you sign up?”
Mickey but his lip. “Yeah.”
“But I thought you said—“
“I’ve got my reasons, Blues,” the mouse waved it off. Yes, he’d sworn to himself that he’d never return to the Dante Verse and yet here he was, undoubtedly about to watch some friends and some not so much get brutally murdered. He supposed if he left here with some more permanent psychological scarring, he’d only have himself to blame.
Tentatively, Mickey reached into his pocket and dug out the banishment circle, flashing it to Blues. “I’m gonna get him, Blues,” Mickey whispered. “I’m gonna finish what Samus started and get Karl Jak.”
“Mickey,” Proto Man reached out and grabbed his friend by the shoulder, pulling him close. “Mickey, it’s too dangerous,” the preteen machine protested, “That guy’s too powerful. And my sensors are saying he’s somehow disabled banishment circles here. I don’t know how he can do that, but...”
“...you mean it’s not gonna work?” Mickey’s eyes widened a bit and he said some not nice words to himself. There had to be some way to take this dude down, right?
“I don’t think so—and, um,” Blues’ eyes traveled up above Mickey and focused in on the teleporter. “...speaking of banishment,” he said, forebodingly, “Don’t look now, but we’ve got big trouble.”
Mickey didn’t really follow that command—‘don’t look now’—and immediately spun around. Stepping out of the teleporter was an all too familiar mane of golden hair, and a smile that sparkled too much for the dirty soul it belonged to. Mickey and Blues hadn’t scowled this much in years.
“Oh, geez.”
![[Image: 2agonyw.png]](http://i68.tinypic.com/2agonyw.png)