05-31-2015, 09:37 PM
“I’m sure we’ll have more to tell soon enough.”
Gosh, I hope not.
All of a sudden, Erza let out a blood-curdling scream. Within seconds, Mickey’s gauntlet hummed to life, Samus’s flak cannon was at the ready, and Harry had jumped for his huge gun. The red-haired girl scrambled over to the group, taking solace in Pazo the Caterpie, who huddled up next to her. Pepsiman remained laying where he was, now in the sights of all of their weapons, utterly clueless.
“You idiot, move out of the way,” Samus spat, gesturing with the flak cannon. Slower than anyone would have liked, Pepsiman put his hands in the air and moved around behind the foursome that he counted on for protection. The three weapon-toting Primes stared off into the woods behind Erza. “What do you think it was, Erza?” the bounty hunter asked, not taking her eyes off of the forest for even a second. At her feet, the red-head tried desperately to calm her quivering down.
“I—I don’t know,” she muttered, “but it… it touched me.” Mickey reached over and placed his unarmored hand on Erza’s shoulder, and she grasped it. Her other arm pulled Pazo close to her, like a child would its stuffed animal after seeing a monster under its bed.
A few seconds passed, and the entirety of their group stayed perfectly still, barely even breathing. They knew that at any moment, the emerald-skinned warrior or the giant pig beast or even the maniacal turtle from the Pre-Show could pop out of the bushes behind where Erza had been sleeping. As the tension reached its boiling point, something moved in the bushes.
“There,” Mickey offered, gesturing for the disturbance. Samus and Harry redirected their aim down to where the movement had been, and after a few seconds, the culprit made themselves known to the group.
“Aw, shit.”
“Golly Ned.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
From the depths of the forest, a particularly slimy-looking rat had wiggled its way into the group’s campsite. Almost immediately, the group relaxed their hold on their weapons, but although he tried to hide it, the Pepsiman remained petrified.
“KILL IT!” the Pepsiman screamed, pointing wildly at the creepy little creature roaming around where he and Erza had made their rest. “Please, please, please—”
“Be quiet, would you?” Samus barked, grabbing the spandex-clad man by the shoulder and gripping just tight enough that it pained him a little. “Do you want this green man who slashed you open to find us? If you keep shouting like that, he will. You know that, don’t you?” The Pepsiman whimpered a little bit, and Samus, annoyed, shoved him away and turned her attention back to the group’s guest. “Now, now, what to do with you?”
“I said,” the Pepsiman insisted, “kill it. Those creatures don’t deserve the refreshing powers of Pepsi!”
For such a kind, generous soul, this rat had inspired the Pepsiman to violence.
“Are you kidding, pal?” Mickey interjected. “I’m right here.” He gestured to himself, reminding everyone in the group once again—in case they had forgotten—that they had a walking, talking mouse in their midst.
“Yeah, buddy, be a little sensitive,” Harry chuckled, slapping the Pepsiman on the back.
“Oh, please, mice are so much different from rats,” the Pepsiman argued. “It deserves to die. You there, woman with the big gun—”
“Samus.”
“—whatever, please just shoot that thing with your gun,” he pleaded, obviously exasperated, “I can’t let it contaminate the Pepsi. Only Coke products would stoop so low as to let their drinks be infected by such… such…”
“Careful what word you use, buddy,” Mickey crossed his arms, furrowing his brow at the personified product placement. “To be clear, I don’t like the R-word or the V-word.”
“…such animals.”
“Hm,” Mickey mused, “I don’t like your tone, pal, but the word’s fine.” Erza giggled just a little bit, and Mickey shot her a look to let her know how serious he was. He had already taken enough grief from the people of Camelot about how he was a mouse in a human’s world—he wasn’t going to take it from a person whose life they had saved, let alone some ridiculous looking mascot. He had more dignity than that. “Anyway, we can’t kill the rat,” Mickey laid down the law, “After all, she’s probably like my fourth cousin or something.”
“She?” Erza asked. “How do you know?”
“Mouse intuition.”
Erza giggled again. This time Mickey let it slide.
“No one’s killing any rats,” Samus declared, “After all, it’s… kinda cute. Maybe Pazo needs a playmate.” She turned and looked at the rat, which had frozen in fear thanks to all of the shouting that had occurred.
Mickey was the first to approach his would-be family member. “Hey, pal,” he smiled, crouching down to get a little closer to its level. It was refreshing to see someone smaller than him. “Wanna hang out? Or you wanna head home?” He unlatched the gauntlet from his arm and let it drop to the grassy ground before reaching out and cupping his hands, offering them up for the little guy. The rat squeaked a few times, finally scurrying up onto the gloved platform. It squeaked a little bit more. “Oh, yeah, buddy, I hear you,” Mickey nodded, “Sorry about him. He’s new around here.”
“Hell’s Bells,” Harry laughed, “Our ally is literally speaking to the rat right now.” Erza joined him in chuckling about it. She supposed that she should have guessed, when she first met this anthropomorphic mouse, that he could do this.
“I guess it is kinda cute,” the red-head shrugged, “You think Pazo’ll like him?” She threw her focus to Samus, who pondered it for a second, and then decided to test it out. She reached down to where Pazo remained confusedly curled up in the grass, and picked him up, carrying him over to Mickey. The bounty hunter squatted down, holding the Caterpie in front of the rat and letting the pair of little creatures examine each other.
The Caterpie stared at the rat for a second, leaning slightly out of Samus’s grip to… well, Mickey didn’t really know what it was doing. Smelling it, maybe? The rat sniffed his new bug-like playmate, and then turned and scampered up onto Mickey’s shoulder. “She says she’ll stay for now.”
“Gross,” Pepsiman said, but the group shot him glares and he quickly decided that it was time for him to shut up. After all, these people had saved his life.
“Well then,” Erza said, crossing over to the mouse and rat, “She needs a name.”
Samus started to suggest something. “How about—”
“No, I’ve got the perfect one,” Mickey interrupted, fingering the photograph still lodged in the bottom of his pocket. “Her name’s Minnie. That’s it.”
The rest of the group nodded. Minnie it was.
Gosh, I hope not.
All of a sudden, Erza let out a blood-curdling scream. Within seconds, Mickey’s gauntlet hummed to life, Samus’s flak cannon was at the ready, and Harry had jumped for his huge gun. The red-haired girl scrambled over to the group, taking solace in Pazo the Caterpie, who huddled up next to her. Pepsiman remained laying where he was, now in the sights of all of their weapons, utterly clueless.
“You idiot, move out of the way,” Samus spat, gesturing with the flak cannon. Slower than anyone would have liked, Pepsiman put his hands in the air and moved around behind the foursome that he counted on for protection. The three weapon-toting Primes stared off into the woods behind Erza. “What do you think it was, Erza?” the bounty hunter asked, not taking her eyes off of the forest for even a second. At her feet, the red-head tried desperately to calm her quivering down.
“I—I don’t know,” she muttered, “but it… it touched me.” Mickey reached over and placed his unarmored hand on Erza’s shoulder, and she grasped it. Her other arm pulled Pazo close to her, like a child would its stuffed animal after seeing a monster under its bed.
A few seconds passed, and the entirety of their group stayed perfectly still, barely even breathing. They knew that at any moment, the emerald-skinned warrior or the giant pig beast or even the maniacal turtle from the Pre-Show could pop out of the bushes behind where Erza had been sleeping. As the tension reached its boiling point, something moved in the bushes.
“There,” Mickey offered, gesturing for the disturbance. Samus and Harry redirected their aim down to where the movement had been, and after a few seconds, the culprit made themselves known to the group.
“Aw, shit.”
“Golly Ned.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
From the depths of the forest, a particularly slimy-looking rat had wiggled its way into the group’s campsite. Almost immediately, the group relaxed their hold on their weapons, but although he tried to hide it, the Pepsiman remained petrified.
“KILL IT!” the Pepsiman screamed, pointing wildly at the creepy little creature roaming around where he and Erza had made their rest. “Please, please, please—”
“Be quiet, would you?” Samus barked, grabbing the spandex-clad man by the shoulder and gripping just tight enough that it pained him a little. “Do you want this green man who slashed you open to find us? If you keep shouting like that, he will. You know that, don’t you?” The Pepsiman whimpered a little bit, and Samus, annoyed, shoved him away and turned her attention back to the group’s guest. “Now, now, what to do with you?”
“I said,” the Pepsiman insisted, “kill it. Those creatures don’t deserve the refreshing powers of Pepsi!”
For such a kind, generous soul, this rat had inspired the Pepsiman to violence.
“Are you kidding, pal?” Mickey interjected. “I’m right here.” He gestured to himself, reminding everyone in the group once again—in case they had forgotten—that they had a walking, talking mouse in their midst.
“Yeah, buddy, be a little sensitive,” Harry chuckled, slapping the Pepsiman on the back.
“Oh, please, mice are so much different from rats,” the Pepsiman argued. “It deserves to die. You there, woman with the big gun—”
“Samus.”
“—whatever, please just shoot that thing with your gun,” he pleaded, obviously exasperated, “I can’t let it contaminate the Pepsi. Only Coke products would stoop so low as to let their drinks be infected by such… such…”
“Careful what word you use, buddy,” Mickey crossed his arms, furrowing his brow at the personified product placement. “To be clear, I don’t like the R-word or the V-word.”
“…such animals.”
“Hm,” Mickey mused, “I don’t like your tone, pal, but the word’s fine.” Erza giggled just a little bit, and Mickey shot her a look to let her know how serious he was. He had already taken enough grief from the people of Camelot about how he was a mouse in a human’s world—he wasn’t going to take it from a person whose life they had saved, let alone some ridiculous looking mascot. He had more dignity than that. “Anyway, we can’t kill the rat,” Mickey laid down the law, “After all, she’s probably like my fourth cousin or something.”
“She?” Erza asked. “How do you know?”
“Mouse intuition.”
Erza giggled again. This time Mickey let it slide.
“No one’s killing any rats,” Samus declared, “After all, it’s… kinda cute. Maybe Pazo needs a playmate.” She turned and looked at the rat, which had frozen in fear thanks to all of the shouting that had occurred.
Mickey was the first to approach his would-be family member. “Hey, pal,” he smiled, crouching down to get a little closer to its level. It was refreshing to see someone smaller than him. “Wanna hang out? Or you wanna head home?” He unlatched the gauntlet from his arm and let it drop to the grassy ground before reaching out and cupping his hands, offering them up for the little guy. The rat squeaked a few times, finally scurrying up onto the gloved platform. It squeaked a little bit more. “Oh, yeah, buddy, I hear you,” Mickey nodded, “Sorry about him. He’s new around here.”
“Hell’s Bells,” Harry laughed, “Our ally is literally speaking to the rat right now.” Erza joined him in chuckling about it. She supposed that she should have guessed, when she first met this anthropomorphic mouse, that he could do this.
“I guess it is kinda cute,” the red-head shrugged, “You think Pazo’ll like him?” She threw her focus to Samus, who pondered it for a second, and then decided to test it out. She reached down to where Pazo remained confusedly curled up in the grass, and picked him up, carrying him over to Mickey. The bounty hunter squatted down, holding the Caterpie in front of the rat and letting the pair of little creatures examine each other.
The Caterpie stared at the rat for a second, leaning slightly out of Samus’s grip to… well, Mickey didn’t really know what it was doing. Smelling it, maybe? The rat sniffed his new bug-like playmate, and then turned and scampered up onto Mickey’s shoulder. “She says she’ll stay for now.”
“Gross,” Pepsiman said, but the group shot him glares and he quickly decided that it was time for him to shut up. After all, these people had saved his life.
“Well then,” Erza said, crossing over to the mouse and rat, “She needs a name.”
Samus started to suggest something. “How about—”
“No, I’ve got the perfect one,” Mickey interrupted, fingering the photograph still lodged in the bottom of his pocket. “Her name’s Minnie. That’s it.”
The rest of the group nodded. Minnie it was.
![[Image: 2agonyw.png]](http://i68.tinypic.com/2agonyw.png)