06-26-2018, 12:39 PM
The pair of primes plopped down in two cloth director’s chairs, embroidered in big golden letters with their names, as they perused Mickey’s trusty survival guide to discover the true nature of the People’s Strudel.
Finally finding an in-depth interview with their celebrity guide hidden amongst the pages of Play, Boy, Kanda’s face contorted in ways the pint-sized king had never even imagined possible. “That… is disgusting,” he shook his head, his face going slightly green just from the thought.
“Whatcha talking ‘bout, pal?” Mickey glanced up at him, quizzically, “It just seems like he’s offering this nice journalist lady some tasty pastries!”
Kanda facepalmed.
“Oh, it’s tasty, alright!” Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson boomed, swooping in on Mickey and Kanda. “Lemme see that magazine, little bro,” he asked, reaching one of his huge hands toward Mickey, who promptly plopped the survival guide onto his palm. “Playboy, eh? You got good taste, little mouse.”
“Oh, actually, I didn’t pick it out,” Mick clarified, “it was given to me by a disembodied wizard who summoned us all to an island to defeat a warlock and retrieve his stolen artefacts!”
Dwayne blinked. “The Rock would just like to say this Omniverse gets weirder and weirder every day.”
And with that, the former wrestler beckoned Mickey and Kanda to the costume closet. Inside, garments of primes present and past lined the racks, and memories of friends and enemies from the sixth Dante’s Abyss flooded into Mickey’s mind. He gave a big old hug to a leg of replica Samus Aran armor, and wrapped himself in the folds of a blue skirt that must’ve been meant to resemble Erza Scarlet’s.
“Looks like your mouse friend is enjoying all the options, eh?” the Rock said.
“I’m beginning to think my partner might enjoy… everything,” Kanda mused, worriedly. The mouse had seemed to take the competition seriously enough during their first fight. Ever since they’d been reunited in the preshow facility, though, Kanda had noticed a slight shift in his partner’s dynamic: one more wide-eyed and slightly reckless. Whereas at first Mickey had seemed altogether despondent about the competition in general, he now walked around having… fun? Was that the right word? The serious-minded swordsman didn’t really know the meaning of it.
“I wasn’t a huge fan of this idea when your emissary presented it to us,” Kanda shrugged.
“Yeah, well, the big guy wanted to give you guys a reward for being so damn entertaining!” Dwayne chuckled, clapping a hand against Kanda’s back. The exorcist stumbled slightly—this man’s brute strength was ridiculous. “And besides, this is way better than what some of the other primes are having to do! Can you believe they convinced some jabronis to wear Pepsi costumes into their fight? I mean, COME ON!” The Rock burst into a fit of laughter, doubling over and slapping his knee.
Kanda, for one, didn’t get the joke. What was a ‘Pepsi,’ some kind of strange creature or demon? And what did a Pepsi costume even look like?
“Oh my gosh!” the squeakerific sounds of Mickey Mouse echoed from the back of the room. Seconds later, he burst through a pair of Deadpool costumes—each stuck with a ‘4th place’ ribbon—carrying a blue and silver spandex jumpsuit, the word ‘Pepsi’ emblazoned on the front. “It’s Pepsimaaaaaan!”
Ah. So that’s what it looked like.
“I just don’t get why I have to play you,” Yu Kanda protested, adjusting the oversized mouse ears on his head. Below him, Mickey grumbled, dressed in the Pepsiman suit with some really life-like blood and guts emerging from the abdomen.
“Because I want to play Pepsiman!” the mouse groaned.
Behind them, the set had morphed—in minutes—into a scene from the sixth Dante’s Abyss. Mickey and Kanda were in a cave not unlike the one MESH dragged Pepsiman into after the Medkit Easter Egg. Over to the side, Dwayne adjusted himself, uncomfortable in the too-tight Samus Aran armor.
“Rolling… action!”
Cameras focused in, and Mickey assumed a dramatic near-death pose, moaning and groaning and clutching his guts in a way no person would ever actually be able to. Kanda glanced over at the teleprompter for his lines.
“Do you think he’ll make it?” the guard captain read in a dry monotone.
“Cut, cut, cut!” Mickey said, sitting up.
“Don’t cut, keep rolling,” the director droned, “what is it, Mr. Mouse?”
“Well, it’s just,” the pint-sized prime squeaked, “I don’t wanna give another actor notes or anything… but I mean, like, I was there, I know what happened, y’know? And what happened was I was a lot sadder, like maybe even crying? Do you think you could give us some tears, Kanda?”
Yu Kanda grimaced. “Tears? You want me to cry? While wearing these ridiculous ears?”
“I mean if you don’t think you’re capable of doing it…” Mickey trailed off, shooting a sassy look at the Rock. Kanda huffed.
The director watched the passive-aggressive scene play out for several moments before deciding to cut it off. “Alright, still rolling. Take 2. And… action.”
Kanda scrunched his face, managing to procure a single drop of water onto his cheek, though it might have been sweat, not tears. “Do you think he’ll make it?” The exorcist looked over to Rock Samus, who waddled over to the Pepsimouse, medkit in hand. He sprinkled its contents on the afflicted area and just like that, the special effects blood and guts dissolved on cue.
Mickey sat up slowly, feeling his stomach and then smiling a big, cheesy smile. “The refreshing taste of Pepsi lives on!” he cheered. Then, he broke from the scene and stared directly into the camera. “Dante’s Abyss—it’s not just about murder-killing, it’s also about making friends!”
He grinned and flashed a thumbs up at the camera. Tentatively, the Rock and Kanda did as well. The director nodded, wondering if this was, exactly, what they were supposed to do, and then shouted cut.
Within seconds, two assistants flanked Dwayne, one holding a tiny fan and the other offering him a bottle of refreshing Pepsi, which he quickly took and drank. Mickey’s eyes narrowed. Where were their assistants? They were the ones who’d just proven their worth and spiked the ratings for Karl Jak. They were the stars of these commercial shoots. What was the deal?
“Um, excuse me,” he called out to no one in particular, “do Kanda and I not get interns to bring us fans and Pepsi?”
The director, his eyes not leaving the footage he reviewed, scoffed. “Not in the budget, Mr. Mouse.”
Mickey’s off-white cheeks flared red.
Kanda, noticing his partner’s swift change in demeanor, tried to run interference. “That’s totally fine, he was just wondering—”
“It is not totally fine,” Mickey roared, “I have been on more film sets than anyone here, probably! Before Minnie and I became queen and king, we made extra cash making remakes of old movies starring us, like A Christmas Carol and The Prince and the Pauper! And we always had assistants!”
The director rolled his eyes and ignore the complaining mouse, which, of course, only infuriated him more.
“I can’t work like this!”
The mouse’s voice echoed throughout the soundstage and within seconds, he’d zip-a-dee-doo-dah’d out of the room. All eyes in the room trained on Mickey as he stormed out. Okay, so it turned out everyone’s favorite neighborhood mouse did have a moral weakness: his movie star complex.
“I’ll… go find him,” Kanda assured everyone reluctantly before hurrying out of the room after his partner.
Finally finding an in-depth interview with their celebrity guide hidden amongst the pages of Play, Boy, Kanda’s face contorted in ways the pint-sized king had never even imagined possible. “That… is disgusting,” he shook his head, his face going slightly green just from the thought.
“Whatcha talking ‘bout, pal?” Mickey glanced up at him, quizzically, “It just seems like he’s offering this nice journalist lady some tasty pastries!”
Kanda facepalmed.
“Oh, it’s tasty, alright!” Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson boomed, swooping in on Mickey and Kanda. “Lemme see that magazine, little bro,” he asked, reaching one of his huge hands toward Mickey, who promptly plopped the survival guide onto his palm. “Playboy, eh? You got good taste, little mouse.”
“Oh, actually, I didn’t pick it out,” Mick clarified, “it was given to me by a disembodied wizard who summoned us all to an island to defeat a warlock and retrieve his stolen artefacts!”
Dwayne blinked. “The Rock would just like to say this Omniverse gets weirder and weirder every day.”
And with that, the former wrestler beckoned Mickey and Kanda to the costume closet. Inside, garments of primes present and past lined the racks, and memories of friends and enemies from the sixth Dante’s Abyss flooded into Mickey’s mind. He gave a big old hug to a leg of replica Samus Aran armor, and wrapped himself in the folds of a blue skirt that must’ve been meant to resemble Erza Scarlet’s.
“Looks like your mouse friend is enjoying all the options, eh?” the Rock said.
“I’m beginning to think my partner might enjoy… everything,” Kanda mused, worriedly. The mouse had seemed to take the competition seriously enough during their first fight. Ever since they’d been reunited in the preshow facility, though, Kanda had noticed a slight shift in his partner’s dynamic: one more wide-eyed and slightly reckless. Whereas at first Mickey had seemed altogether despondent about the competition in general, he now walked around having… fun? Was that the right word? The serious-minded swordsman didn’t really know the meaning of it.
“I wasn’t a huge fan of this idea when your emissary presented it to us,” Kanda shrugged.
“Yeah, well, the big guy wanted to give you guys a reward for being so damn entertaining!” Dwayne chuckled, clapping a hand against Kanda’s back. The exorcist stumbled slightly—this man’s brute strength was ridiculous. “And besides, this is way better than what some of the other primes are having to do! Can you believe they convinced some jabronis to wear Pepsi costumes into their fight? I mean, COME ON!” The Rock burst into a fit of laughter, doubling over and slapping his knee.
Kanda, for one, didn’t get the joke. What was a ‘Pepsi,’ some kind of strange creature or demon? And what did a Pepsi costume even look like?
“Oh my gosh!” the squeakerific sounds of Mickey Mouse echoed from the back of the room. Seconds later, he burst through a pair of Deadpool costumes—each stuck with a ‘4th place’ ribbon—carrying a blue and silver spandex jumpsuit, the word ‘Pepsi’ emblazoned on the front. “It’s Pepsimaaaaaan!”
Ah. So that’s what it looked like.
* * *
“I just don’t get why I have to play you,” Yu Kanda protested, adjusting the oversized mouse ears on his head. Below him, Mickey grumbled, dressed in the Pepsiman suit with some really life-like blood and guts emerging from the abdomen.
“Because I want to play Pepsiman!” the mouse groaned.
Behind them, the set had morphed—in minutes—into a scene from the sixth Dante’s Abyss. Mickey and Kanda were in a cave not unlike the one MESH dragged Pepsiman into after the Medkit Easter Egg. Over to the side, Dwayne adjusted himself, uncomfortable in the too-tight Samus Aran armor.
“Rolling… action!”
Cameras focused in, and Mickey assumed a dramatic near-death pose, moaning and groaning and clutching his guts in a way no person would ever actually be able to. Kanda glanced over at the teleprompter for his lines.
“Do you think he’ll make it?” the guard captain read in a dry monotone.
“Cut, cut, cut!” Mickey said, sitting up.
“Don’t cut, keep rolling,” the director droned, “what is it, Mr. Mouse?”
“Well, it’s just,” the pint-sized prime squeaked, “I don’t wanna give another actor notes or anything… but I mean, like, I was there, I know what happened, y’know? And what happened was I was a lot sadder, like maybe even crying? Do you think you could give us some tears, Kanda?”
Yu Kanda grimaced. “Tears? You want me to cry? While wearing these ridiculous ears?”
“I mean if you don’t think you’re capable of doing it…” Mickey trailed off, shooting a sassy look at the Rock. Kanda huffed.
The director watched the passive-aggressive scene play out for several moments before deciding to cut it off. “Alright, still rolling. Take 2. And… action.”
Kanda scrunched his face, managing to procure a single drop of water onto his cheek, though it might have been sweat, not tears. “Do you think he’ll make it?” The exorcist looked over to Rock Samus, who waddled over to the Pepsimouse, medkit in hand. He sprinkled its contents on the afflicted area and just like that, the special effects blood and guts dissolved on cue.
Mickey sat up slowly, feeling his stomach and then smiling a big, cheesy smile. “The refreshing taste of Pepsi lives on!” he cheered. Then, he broke from the scene and stared directly into the camera. “Dante’s Abyss—it’s not just about murder-killing, it’s also about making friends!”
He grinned and flashed a thumbs up at the camera. Tentatively, the Rock and Kanda did as well. The director nodded, wondering if this was, exactly, what they were supposed to do, and then shouted cut.
Within seconds, two assistants flanked Dwayne, one holding a tiny fan and the other offering him a bottle of refreshing Pepsi, which he quickly took and drank. Mickey’s eyes narrowed. Where were their assistants? They were the ones who’d just proven their worth and spiked the ratings for Karl Jak. They were the stars of these commercial shoots. What was the deal?
“Um, excuse me,” he called out to no one in particular, “do Kanda and I not get interns to bring us fans and Pepsi?”
The director, his eyes not leaving the footage he reviewed, scoffed. “Not in the budget, Mr. Mouse.”
Mickey’s off-white cheeks flared red.
Kanda, noticing his partner’s swift change in demeanor, tried to run interference. “That’s totally fine, he was just wondering—”
“It is not totally fine,” Mickey roared, “I have been on more film sets than anyone here, probably! Before Minnie and I became queen and king, we made extra cash making remakes of old movies starring us, like A Christmas Carol and The Prince and the Pauper! And we always had assistants!”
The director rolled his eyes and ignore the complaining mouse, which, of course, only infuriated him more.
“I can’t work like this!”
The mouse’s voice echoed throughout the soundstage and within seconds, he’d zip-a-dee-doo-dah’d out of the room. All eyes in the room trained on Mickey as he stormed out. Okay, so it turned out everyone’s favorite neighborhood mouse did have a moral weakness: his movie star complex.
“I’ll… go find him,” Kanda assured everyone reluctantly before hurrying out of the room after his partner.
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