06-06-2018, 11:42 AM
“How can you say that guy isn’t being oppressed and then turn around call us the oppressors?” Mickey snapped back, standing up and getting a tad heated. “Just because we made them doesn’t mean we get to play Gosh with them. They may be weaker than us, but they deserve a more fair shake than being forced into living the life we decided they should live.” The Bandit looked at Mickey quizzically, confused by the mouse’s relentless optimism.
To be honest, it confused the mouse, as well. What had he seen in this Omniverse that led him to believe it was at all possible to bring senseless violence to an end? When had any of these people—primes and secondaries alike—given him reason to trust they could live in his ideal world? Could he even live in an ideal world? Was violence for the sake of destroying evil something he would just have to get used to? Even Blues had lashed out at Gilgamesh just now, in an attempt to shut down the false king of Heroes. And here he was, putting himself through this competition and potentially hurting tons of people, all for the sliver of a chance he could take down Karl Jak.
A thought crossed Mickey’s mind that he didn’t like very much. Maybe... they were right. About some things, at least. The Bandit’s attitude about secondaries wasn’t something Mickey would ever agree with, but maybe he spent so much time working for peace that he scorned one of the main avenues toward it.
The Bandit stood. “You’re a naive little mouse,” she frowned. “And things like that get you killed by people like Gilgamesh.” Mickey growled a little bit, and stepped toward the woman but was stopped by Proto Man’s metallic arm. He looked to his best friend, who’d remained mostly silent for the duration of the conversation with this stranger.
“Mick,” Blues muttered.
“You talk about how there’s no consequences for us,” Mickey turned back to the former secondary, “but there are. And they’re worse than death, No-Name McGee.”
The Bandit scowled. “Maybe, little mouse.”
“Mickey,” Proto Man interjected, “Let’s get outta here.”
Mickey Mouse looked over at Blues. The preteen machine silently urged the mouse to leave it be, and for the moment, Mickey decided that was best. They’d both gone too far today—Proto Man in trying to fight Gilgamesh, and now Mickey in arguing with this person he didn’t even know.
Mickey looked up to the Bandit, so much taller than he or his best friend, and adopted the warmest smile he could muster. He stuck out a gloved hand. “Agree to disagree, pal?”
The Bandit tentatively shook the mouse king’s hand. “See you on the battlefield, little guy.” And with that she swept away into the crowd. Mickey’s eyes followed her until she disappeared, and then he returned to Blues.
“So... Gilgamesh,” the mouse sighed, “Somehow back from banishment, eh?”
Proto Man frowned. “Yea,” he replied, “I didn’t even know that was possible. And I won’t be in there to help you if you get matched up with him.” Mickey’s face bunched up as he thought about that for a moment.
He certainly liked to think he could handle Gilgamesh on his own. The gilded king was brash and arrogant and too full of himself to really seem a viable threat, but Mickey hadn’t really been feeling as strong as normal recently. And what types of things had happened to Gilgamesh in the Underverse? Had they made him more powerful? Mickey couldn’t imagine—he’d already squared off pretty competently against the Proto Mouse.
Mickey’s gloved fingers reached into his pocket and found the Potara Earrings, sitting next to the banishment circle. Tentatively, he pulled them out and looked at them. “Well,” he sighed, “I guess there’s no reason I need these in there, then.”
The mouse held out the earrings to Blues. “You take ‘em, buddy,” he smiled. “You’ll keep ‘em safe.”
Blues glanced from the earrings to his best friend’s face, and then reached out, taking the artefact. “I will,” he said, grabbing on to Mickey’s now empty hand and pulling his best friend in for a big hug.
The two pint-sized primes squeezed each other hard.
“Don’t die in there, okay?” Blues asked.
Mickey smiled. “I don’t plan on it, pal.”
To be honest, it confused the mouse, as well. What had he seen in this Omniverse that led him to believe it was at all possible to bring senseless violence to an end? When had any of these people—primes and secondaries alike—given him reason to trust they could live in his ideal world? Could he even live in an ideal world? Was violence for the sake of destroying evil something he would just have to get used to? Even Blues had lashed out at Gilgamesh just now, in an attempt to shut down the false king of Heroes. And here he was, putting himself through this competition and potentially hurting tons of people, all for the sliver of a chance he could take down Karl Jak.
A thought crossed Mickey’s mind that he didn’t like very much. Maybe... they were right. About some things, at least. The Bandit’s attitude about secondaries wasn’t something Mickey would ever agree with, but maybe he spent so much time working for peace that he scorned one of the main avenues toward it.
The Bandit stood. “You’re a naive little mouse,” she frowned. “And things like that get you killed by people like Gilgamesh.” Mickey growled a little bit, and stepped toward the woman but was stopped by Proto Man’s metallic arm. He looked to his best friend, who’d remained mostly silent for the duration of the conversation with this stranger.
“Mick,” Blues muttered.
“You talk about how there’s no consequences for us,” Mickey turned back to the former secondary, “but there are. And they’re worse than death, No-Name McGee.”
The Bandit scowled. “Maybe, little mouse.”
“Mickey,” Proto Man interjected, “Let’s get outta here.”
Mickey Mouse looked over at Blues. The preteen machine silently urged the mouse to leave it be, and for the moment, Mickey decided that was best. They’d both gone too far today—Proto Man in trying to fight Gilgamesh, and now Mickey in arguing with this person he didn’t even know.
Mickey looked up to the Bandit, so much taller than he or his best friend, and adopted the warmest smile he could muster. He stuck out a gloved hand. “Agree to disagree, pal?”
The Bandit tentatively shook the mouse king’s hand. “See you on the battlefield, little guy.” And with that she swept away into the crowd. Mickey’s eyes followed her until she disappeared, and then he returned to Blues.
“So... Gilgamesh,” the mouse sighed, “Somehow back from banishment, eh?”
Proto Man frowned. “Yea,” he replied, “I didn’t even know that was possible. And I won’t be in there to help you if you get matched up with him.” Mickey’s face bunched up as he thought about that for a moment.
He certainly liked to think he could handle Gilgamesh on his own. The gilded king was brash and arrogant and too full of himself to really seem a viable threat, but Mickey hadn’t really been feeling as strong as normal recently. And what types of things had happened to Gilgamesh in the Underverse? Had they made him more powerful? Mickey couldn’t imagine—he’d already squared off pretty competently against the Proto Mouse.
Mickey’s gloved fingers reached into his pocket and found the Potara Earrings, sitting next to the banishment circle. Tentatively, he pulled them out and looked at them. “Well,” he sighed, “I guess there’s no reason I need these in there, then.”
The mouse held out the earrings to Blues. “You take ‘em, buddy,” he smiled. “You’ll keep ‘em safe.”
Blues glanced from the earrings to his best friend’s face, and then reached out, taking the artefact. “I will,” he said, grabbing on to Mickey’s now empty hand and pulling his best friend in for a big hug.
The two pint-sized primes squeezed each other hard.
“Don’t die in there, okay?” Blues asked.
Mickey smiled. “I don’t plan on it, pal.”
Quote:Mickey Mouse has given the Potara Earrings to Proto Man.
![[Image: 2agonyw.png]](http://i68.tinypic.com/2agonyw.png)