07-21-2018, 05:09 PM
(This post was last modified: 07-22-2018, 10:46 AM by Mickey Mouse.)
This… was fun.
Mickey jiggled his head, trying to regain his senses after Yuuky Kazuky’s assault. She’d gotten him good, throttling him with those ropes—but the Pebble had more spunk in him than the gal pals expected.
Still in a slightly light-headed haze, Mickey heard a strangely fizzy-sounding pop come from across the arena, and his eyes darted upward to where his opponent entered the ring. Strangely, though, instead of her, all he saw was a spinning, translucent PepsiCo logo. His brow quirked.
“Where’d she go?!” he squeaked, spinning towards Kanda and Dwayne and throwing up his arms.
And then he felt Whirda’s boot slam into his face.
“Owwie!” he shouted, flying back across the arena and bouncing several times against the padded floor until rolling to a stop. He lifted his head up. “That hurt!”
“That’s the point,” she scowled, dropping into a fighting stance and sprinting at the mouse. He quickly pushed off the ground and into the air, somersaulting over Woody Wonderwall’s head and landing, gracefully, on the other side. Flexing his gloved fingers, he shot a fireball at his dusky foe. He heard another pop, and suddenly, the woman was staring him in the face, crouching to his eye level.
“Try harder, mouse,” she spat, throwing an uppercut into his chin and launching him into the air. He flew with speed toward the edge of the ring, his flight halted in midair as he slammed into the crotchety old referee’s face. The impact sent them both hurtling out of the ring, Mickey crashing into the announcer’s table. It cracked beneath the force of the mouse king’s blow, even despite his general lack of mass, and J.R. and Jim scattered. Meanwhile, Earl’s head collided with the concrete floor and he lost consciousness—for the moment.
“No!” a small voice piped up from the crowd. “Get up, Mickey!” The mouse looked up at the cutest little ten-year-old, pigtail-framed face gazing worriedly down at him. It seemed Little Susie had gotten a front row seat. “Come on,” she urged him.
On the other side of the arena, Yuuka golf clapped. “Nicely done,” she nodded, “though you could’ve made it a tad more exciting.”
“Let’s just finish the sword boy and move along,” Whirda grunted, glancing over at Kanda, who had yet to replace Mickey in the ring. With a huff, the plagued woman stormed towards the swordsman, who whispered furtively in the Rock’s ear. Dwayne hurriedly tapped the exorcist’s shoulder, and they both looked up at Whirlwind Wooselcock, standing on the other side of the ropes and silently beckoning the Slag to accept his punishment for daring to challenge the Pepsisters.
“Are you coming,” she barked, “or do I have to hop down and finish you myself?”
“I think you should stay right where you’re at,” Kanda smirked.
Whirda raised an eyebrow. “What?”
Dwayne folded his arms, scoffing. “You’ve heard of Hell in a Cell, right?” he asked, and the way Whirda’s face scrunched up indicated that… well, of course she hadn’t. “Well…”
“Get ready for Frick on a Stick!”
The high-pitched voice made the hairs on Whirda’s neck stand up. She spun around to face Mickey, but instead was greeted by the splintery length of a two-by-four to her dusky cheek. The board sent her skull crashing into the ring floor. She groaned as Mickey Mouse dropped the board to the ground. “Suck it, jabroni,” he bucked.
“Whoa, Mick,” Dwayne called, “watch the language, bro! You’ve got an image, remember!” Mickey shot the Rock a quizzical look—did ‘suck it’ not just mean ‘kneel to my obviously greater glory’? That’s what Play, Boy had implied.
Ah, whatever, he shrugged. This was too fun to worry!!
“Y’know,” he giggled, “you’ve got some attitude! We’re similar in that way, I can see why Blues liked ya, pal!” Whirda’s whole body tensed at the mention of the preteen machine, but Mickey hardly noticed. He walked over to the woman’s crumpled form and extended a hand. “And hey, for the record, Whirly,” he glowed, “any friend of Blues is a friend of mine!”
“It’s… Whirda,” the plagued woman snarled. Whirda’s cold eyes flickered up to Mickey’s face, and the mouse’s smile quickly drooped at the vindictiveness floating beneath the surface of her features.
Something was very wrong. Just like Blues had said. But before Mickey could rescind the offer, Whirda’s agile, slender fingers wrapped around his wrist and jerked him so they were almost nose to nose. “How is he?” she asked, surprisingly cordial.
“Um, good—“
Once she’d confirmed that, Mickey was in the air. Meanwhile...Meanwhile, over near Little Susie—practically usurping the noise of the crowd with her frantic screams—Earl had begun to regain his senses, and spotted Mickey in Whirda’s hands as she lifted him up and prepared to toss him into the corner pole.
He also saw gloved fingers graze Kanda’s just before Whirda’s attack smashed a mouse skull into pure steel.
Mickey blacked out. The arena disappeared for a moment, and he knew Whirda thought she’d won as she turned her back and accepted the crowd’s cheers, heading to tag Yuuka. Then, Kanda slipped into the ring behind her and kicked Mickey beneath the ropes. “Get some rest, Pebble.”
The impact against the floor outside woke Mickey up. “Go get ‘em, Tiger!” he groaned.
“It’s Slag!” Kanda called over his shoulder.
This was kinda fun, but dang, it hurt.
Mickey jiggled his head, trying to regain his senses after Yuuky Kazuky’s assault. She’d gotten him good, throttling him with those ropes—but the Pebble had more spunk in him than the gal pals expected.
Still in a slightly light-headed haze, Mickey heard a strangely fizzy-sounding pop come from across the arena, and his eyes darted upward to where his opponent entered the ring. Strangely, though, instead of her, all he saw was a spinning, translucent PepsiCo logo. His brow quirked.
“Where’d she go?!” he squeaked, spinning towards Kanda and Dwayne and throwing up his arms.
And then he felt Whirda’s boot slam into his face.
“Owwie!” he shouted, flying back across the arena and bouncing several times against the padded floor until rolling to a stop. He lifted his head up. “That hurt!”
“That’s the point,” she scowled, dropping into a fighting stance and sprinting at the mouse. He quickly pushed off the ground and into the air, somersaulting over Woody Wonderwall’s head and landing, gracefully, on the other side. Flexing his gloved fingers, he shot a fireball at his dusky foe. He heard another pop, and suddenly, the woman was staring him in the face, crouching to his eye level.
“Try harder, mouse,” she spat, throwing an uppercut into his chin and launching him into the air. He flew with speed toward the edge of the ring, his flight halted in midair as he slammed into the crotchety old referee’s face. The impact sent them both hurtling out of the ring, Mickey crashing into the announcer’s table. It cracked beneath the force of the mouse king’s blow, even despite his general lack of mass, and J.R. and Jim scattered. Meanwhile, Earl’s head collided with the concrete floor and he lost consciousness—for the moment.
“No!” a small voice piped up from the crowd. “Get up, Mickey!” The mouse looked up at the cutest little ten-year-old, pigtail-framed face gazing worriedly down at him. It seemed Little Susie had gotten a front row seat. “Come on,” she urged him.
On the other side of the arena, Yuuka golf clapped. “Nicely done,” she nodded, “though you could’ve made it a tad more exciting.”
“Let’s just finish the sword boy and move along,” Whirda grunted, glancing over at Kanda, who had yet to replace Mickey in the ring. With a huff, the plagued woman stormed towards the swordsman, who whispered furtively in the Rock’s ear. Dwayne hurriedly tapped the exorcist’s shoulder, and they both looked up at Whirlwind Wooselcock, standing on the other side of the ropes and silently beckoning the Slag to accept his punishment for daring to challenge the Pepsisters.
“Are you coming,” she barked, “or do I have to hop down and finish you myself?”
“I think you should stay right where you’re at,” Kanda smirked.
Whirda raised an eyebrow. “What?”
Dwayne folded his arms, scoffing. “You’ve heard of Hell in a Cell, right?” he asked, and the way Whirda’s face scrunched up indicated that… well, of course she hadn’t. “Well…”
“Get ready for Frick on a Stick!”
The high-pitched voice made the hairs on Whirda’s neck stand up. She spun around to face Mickey, but instead was greeted by the splintery length of a two-by-four to her dusky cheek. The board sent her skull crashing into the ring floor. She groaned as Mickey Mouse dropped the board to the ground. “Suck it, jabroni,” he bucked.
“Whoa, Mick,” Dwayne called, “watch the language, bro! You’ve got an image, remember!” Mickey shot the Rock a quizzical look—did ‘suck it’ not just mean ‘kneel to my obviously greater glory’? That’s what Play, Boy had implied.
Ah, whatever, he shrugged. This was too fun to worry!!
“Y’know,” he giggled, “you’ve got some attitude! We’re similar in that way, I can see why Blues liked ya, pal!” Whirda’s whole body tensed at the mention of the preteen machine, but Mickey hardly noticed. He walked over to the woman’s crumpled form and extended a hand. “And hey, for the record, Whirly,” he glowed, “any friend of Blues is a friend of mine!”
“It’s… Whirda,” the plagued woman snarled. Whirda’s cold eyes flickered up to Mickey’s face, and the mouse’s smile quickly drooped at the vindictiveness floating beneath the surface of her features.
Something was very wrong. Just like Blues had said. But before Mickey could rescind the offer, Whirda’s agile, slender fingers wrapped around his wrist and jerked him so they were almost nose to nose. “How is he?” she asked, surprisingly cordial.
“Um, good—“
Once she’d confirmed that, Mickey was in the air. Meanwhile...Meanwhile, over near Little Susie—practically usurping the noise of the crowd with her frantic screams—Earl had begun to regain his senses, and spotted Mickey in Whirda’s hands as she lifted him up and prepared to toss him into the corner pole.
He also saw gloved fingers graze Kanda’s just before Whirda’s attack smashed a mouse skull into pure steel.
Mickey blacked out. The arena disappeared for a moment, and he knew Whirda thought she’d won as she turned her back and accepted the crowd’s cheers, heading to tag Yuuka. Then, Kanda slipped into the ring behind her and kicked Mickey beneath the ropes. “Get some rest, Pebble.”
The impact against the floor outside woke Mickey up. “Go get ‘em, Tiger!” he groaned.
“It’s Slag!” Kanda called over his shoulder.
This was kinda fun, but dang, it hurt.
Quote:899/900 words according to Google Docs.
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