07-13-2018, 05:22 PM
“I just can’t believe she’s actually here,” Blues continued, his mouth still slightly agape.
Mickey frowned. Basically every important prime in the Omniverse here, himself included this year. He’d spotted flashes of Gildarts, the muscle man who’d accompanied the Meshbrosia group in the sixth Dante’s Abyss; Deadpool was here, like always; and now, unsurprisingly to the mouse, at least, Blues’ friend was here. “Why is that such a shocker, bud?”
“I haven’t seen her, since… man, it’s gotta have been years, I guess. ” The Omniverse’s sense of collective time was a tad strange, but Mickey got the message: it had been a heckin’ long time since his best friend had encountered the mysterious woman. As Blues recounted the tale of he and the rogue’s kinda dark adventures, memories flooded back into the mouse king’s brain of when he and the preteen machine had first met. As he recalled, the pair had stumbled upon each other while Blues and Mireya were traveling to Yigg-dragons to deliver news of the end of the Blight, on behalf of his new opponent.
“Well,” Mickey grinned, “I personally can’t wait to meet this… Whirly Windlady. Any friend of Blues is a friend of mine!” Blues, for his part, seemed much less chipper about Whirda’s sudden reappearance. He stared in silence at the ground for several moments—thinking? Searching his databases? Having finished his gargantuan meal while listening to the story, the mouse dissolved the picnic blanket and joined his friend on the bench. “What’s wrong, pal?”
Blues frowned. “It’s just,” he started, looking sadder than Mickey had seen him since Belle’s death in the Hero’s Graveyard, “the last time I saw her… something was wrong. Very wrong. She was, I dunno, sick with something.”
Mickey scoffed a bit. “Well, whatever it was, can’t be as bad as something that makes you turn into an actual demon,” the king replied, thinking back to his unfortunate encounter with the Underverse’s mark on Gilgamesh.
Blues rolled his eyes, uncharacteristically dismissive of something Mickey viewed as a pretty potent thread. “Gilgamesh was a bad dude before,” the preteen machine shrugged, “and the Underverse made him more bad. We surprised, Mick?”
“I don’t think he was as bad as we think,” Mickey shook his head. “I mean—”
“Don’t start,” the Proto Man brushed Mickey away. “Don’t start trying to make me feel bad for Gilgamesh now.”
“I just think it’s worth talkin’ about,” the mouse turned away from his friend, unenthused by the boy’s tone. Whatever plagued Blues’ friend, it seemed to have consumed the kid’s mind, but Mickey couldn’t understand how it was more of a clear and present danger than an admittedly sketchy guy being possessed by a crazy powerful demon.
Heck, Mickey had barely escaped that first fight with his life. Certainly this next one wouldn’t be so dramatic.
He huffed. He didn’t have time to dwell on all this, anyway. His match would start soon, and he needed to prep. If he was gonna have any fun in this tournament, he needed to be on the top of his game—Whirly would probably be in tip top shape, given she’d just gotten finished knocking around the jabronis on Team Bug Alien Weasel Guys. Certainly the umbrella lady was nothing to shake a frickin’ stick at, either. Continuing to debate with Blues would be a distraction from getting ready, and probably put him in a sour mood, to boot. Neither of those was conducive to preserving Dwayne’s legacy, which he’d entrusted them with.
Mickey’s mind wandered to their private training session with the former professional wrestler.
“Just remember… it’s all about the People,” the Rock had said, echoing a life philosophy Mickey had held near and dear to his heart. “At the end of the day, anything you do, you do for them. Not for you—for them. The little guys out there watching.”
“Yes!” Mickey had exclaimed sorta without meaning to, just finding himself filled to the brim with a desire to second the Rock’s inspiring teachings. “The People are what’s most important, always. I’ve always believed that.”
Dwayne’s eyes flitted over to Mickey Mouse, and a hint of a proud smile crept onto his face. “You get it, little mouse,” he’d nodded, “you and the Rock are of one mind. Of one heart. You’re like the Rock, but… smaller.”
“Like a pebble?” Yu Kanda interjected sternly, clearly appreciating the Rock’s teachings but growing weary of the tired clichés.
“Yes,” Dwayne glowed, pointing a big finger at Yu Kanda, “you’re like… a pebble, Mickey. Small and unassuming, but with the right push you can cascade beautifully along the clearest waters.”
“Or kill someone,” Kanda added dryly, “if you strike them between the eyes.”
“...or kill someone,” Dwayne chuckled.
Back in the present moment, a silence had drooped over Mickey and Blues in the wake of their small tiff.
After several moments, the mouse king got up, determined to go prep for his fight against Umbrella Lady and Whirlygig Windgust.
“I gotta go, pal,” the king sighed, and the preteen machine turned back to his best friend.
“Knock ‘em dead, Mickey,” Proto stood to face his friend. “Well, not actually dead, but…”
“I know, Fella,” Mickey grinned. The pair of pint-sized primes stared one another in the eyes for a moment, and then the mouse pulled his best friend into a tight hug.
They closed their eyes, falling into the embrace, and for a moment, no one else existed in the world except the two of them. Seconds passed as all the other competitors and spectators floated away, as memories of Mireya and Minnie Mouse faded, and for all the world, Mickey couldn’t think of a single other friend he’d ever had besides Blues. They lived in this moment for what seemed like forever.
“I love you, Mickey,” Blues said.
“I love you, too, Blues,” Mickey replied. He squeezed harder.
“Tell Whirda I said hi, okay?”
Mickey’s eyes popped open as the entire Omniverse charged back into existence, Whirda Windstrom and Yuuka Kazami leading the pack.
Mickey frowned. Basically every important prime in the Omniverse here, himself included this year. He’d spotted flashes of Gildarts, the muscle man who’d accompanied the Meshbrosia group in the sixth Dante’s Abyss; Deadpool was here, like always; and now, unsurprisingly to the mouse, at least, Blues’ friend was here. “Why is that such a shocker, bud?”
“I haven’t seen her, since… man, it’s gotta have been years, I guess. ” The Omniverse’s sense of collective time was a tad strange, but Mickey got the message: it had been a heckin’ long time since his best friend had encountered the mysterious woman. As Blues recounted the tale of he and the rogue’s kinda dark adventures, memories flooded back into the mouse king’s brain of when he and the preteen machine had first met. As he recalled, the pair had stumbled upon each other while Blues and Mireya were traveling to Yigg-dragons to deliver news of the end of the Blight, on behalf of his new opponent.
“Well,” Mickey grinned, “I personally can’t wait to meet this… Whirly Windlady. Any friend of Blues is a friend of mine!” Blues, for his part, seemed much less chipper about Whirda’s sudden reappearance. He stared in silence at the ground for several moments—thinking? Searching his databases? Having finished his gargantuan meal while listening to the story, the mouse dissolved the picnic blanket and joined his friend on the bench. “What’s wrong, pal?”
Blues frowned. “It’s just,” he started, looking sadder than Mickey had seen him since Belle’s death in the Hero’s Graveyard, “the last time I saw her… something was wrong. Very wrong. She was, I dunno, sick with something.”
Mickey scoffed a bit. “Well, whatever it was, can’t be as bad as something that makes you turn into an actual demon,” the king replied, thinking back to his unfortunate encounter with the Underverse’s mark on Gilgamesh.
Blues rolled his eyes, uncharacteristically dismissive of something Mickey viewed as a pretty potent thread. “Gilgamesh was a bad dude before,” the preteen machine shrugged, “and the Underverse made him more bad. We surprised, Mick?”
“I don’t think he was as bad as we think,” Mickey shook his head. “I mean—”
“Don’t start,” the Proto Man brushed Mickey away. “Don’t start trying to make me feel bad for Gilgamesh now.”
“I just think it’s worth talkin’ about,” the mouse turned away from his friend, unenthused by the boy’s tone. Whatever plagued Blues’ friend, it seemed to have consumed the kid’s mind, but Mickey couldn’t understand how it was more of a clear and present danger than an admittedly sketchy guy being possessed by a crazy powerful demon.
Heck, Mickey had barely escaped that first fight with his life. Certainly this next one wouldn’t be so dramatic.
He huffed. He didn’t have time to dwell on all this, anyway. His match would start soon, and he needed to prep. If he was gonna have any fun in this tournament, he needed to be on the top of his game—Whirly would probably be in tip top shape, given she’d just gotten finished knocking around the jabronis on Team Bug Alien Weasel Guys. Certainly the umbrella lady was nothing to shake a frickin’ stick at, either. Continuing to debate with Blues would be a distraction from getting ready, and probably put him in a sour mood, to boot. Neither of those was conducive to preserving Dwayne’s legacy, which he’d entrusted them with.
Mickey’s mind wandered to their private training session with the former professional wrestler.
“Just remember… it’s all about the People,” the Rock had said, echoing a life philosophy Mickey had held near and dear to his heart. “At the end of the day, anything you do, you do for them. Not for you—for them. The little guys out there watching.”
“Yes!” Mickey had exclaimed sorta without meaning to, just finding himself filled to the brim with a desire to second the Rock’s inspiring teachings. “The People are what’s most important, always. I’ve always believed that.”
Dwayne’s eyes flitted over to Mickey Mouse, and a hint of a proud smile crept onto his face. “You get it, little mouse,” he’d nodded, “you and the Rock are of one mind. Of one heart. You’re like the Rock, but… smaller.”
“Like a pebble?” Yu Kanda interjected sternly, clearly appreciating the Rock’s teachings but growing weary of the tired clichés.
“Yes,” Dwayne glowed, pointing a big finger at Yu Kanda, “you’re like… a pebble, Mickey. Small and unassuming, but with the right push you can cascade beautifully along the clearest waters.”
“Or kill someone,” Kanda added dryly, “if you strike them between the eyes.”
“...or kill someone,” Dwayne chuckled.
Back in the present moment, a silence had drooped over Mickey and Blues in the wake of their small tiff.
After several moments, the mouse king got up, determined to go prep for his fight against Umbrella Lady and Whirlygig Windgust.
“I gotta go, pal,” the king sighed, and the preteen machine turned back to his best friend.
“Knock ‘em dead, Mickey,” Proto stood to face his friend. “Well, not actually dead, but…”
“I know, Fella,” Mickey grinned. The pair of pint-sized primes stared one another in the eyes for a moment, and then the mouse pulled his best friend into a tight hug.
They closed their eyes, falling into the embrace, and for a moment, no one else existed in the world except the two of them. Seconds passed as all the other competitors and spectators floated away, as memories of Mireya and Minnie Mouse faded, and for all the world, Mickey couldn’t think of a single other friend he’d ever had besides Blues. They lived in this moment for what seemed like forever.
“I love you, Mickey,” Blues said.
“I love you, too, Blues,” Mickey replied. He squeezed harder.
“Tell Whirda I said hi, okay?”
Mickey’s eyes popped open as the entire Omniverse charged back into existence, Whirda Windstrom and Yuuka Kazami leading the pack.
![[Image: 2agonyw.png]](http://i68.tinypic.com/2agonyw.png)