06-04-2015, 11:04 PM
The island had grown boring to him.
He remembered—not very fondly, he might add—the moment he had been transported to the island. Tossed out of the helicopter with nothing but a bag full of supplies and a strange contraption that he figured somehow fit on his arm. The first thought he’d had was to scale the lighthouse, get a better look at his surroundings.
He remembered being amazed by what he saw: forests and flora that stretched out as far as his eye could see, hills dotted with nice-looking buildings, and a brilliantly blue ocean that shined even in the dead of night. Everywhere he looked, beauty rested. The fear that the island’s beauty was a façade for its malice had tugged at the back of his thoughts, but somehow, he had let himself into being fooled that he might end up at least a little bit lucky. After all, how in the world could something so gorgeous play host to something so brutal?
He didn’t see that island anymore. Everywhere he looked, he saw the scars of Dante’s Abyss. It sickened him more than his wounds already did. As he traveled across the island’s landscape, he could see the remnants of battle scattered about. A few broken tree limbs here, the scars of somebody’s rocket launcher in the dirt there. This place had lost all of its magic, much like the collar had stripped Mickey of his.
He wanted to go home.
There were only two ways that was happening: he would die, or he would win. And he preferred the latter. But there was a catch: nobody else would lose their life by his hand. He had tasted what it felt like to be a murderer—even if it had been a complete accident—and it had burnt his tongue. He refused to participate in the violence this game propagated anymore.
The mouse stopped to rest for a moment, and in his pause he started to wonder why he had ever let this Omniverse get to him the way it did, as many times as it did. Heck, he was Mickey Mouse, king of the Disney Realms, keyblade master, and all around fun guy! So he’d thought, anyway. But everything in this whole universe got him down. Why the heck did he let these fellas beat him? Back home, nobody stood a chance of dampening his mood, but these jerks had grown especially good at it in a matter of days.
He couldn’t let that happen anymore. His bright, shining, optimistic personality was the only thing that had ever kept him running, and he had let this game—and this whole multiverse in general—stomp all over it ever since he had gotten here. If Minnie could see him now, she would’ve been ashamed.
Not anymore.
His splitting headache rammed back into him with a vengeance, and he swayed a bit, woozy. Well, he might be on his way to getting his attitude back, but that definitely still stung.
His head focused back into the game as three silhouettes appeared on the horizon. The mouse dove behind some shrubbery—his size served him well in some instances—and sat himself on the ground to try and counteract the massive throbbing he felt in his brain. He peered out of the bushes, hoping these guys would just walk on by him, not even noticing the big ears sticking out ever so slightly from the leaves.
And then suddenly, his day got even brighter.
“ERZA! SAMUS!”
He sprinted out of his hiding place, and the trio’s gaze turned to him. The man seemed to slide quickly into a defensive pose, but Erza and Samus relaxed at the sight of him.
“Mickey,” Samus exhaled, nodding and lowering her flak cannon. Without her helmet on, Mickey could see the grin that crept onto her face—was it the first time he had ever seen her smile?
It gave him a little bit more life.
Mickey leapt up into his redheaded companion’s arms, burying his face in her shoulders. She laughed a little bit. “Good to see you too, Mick,” the knight smiled, and all Mickey could do was nod. He felt the tears of relief swelling up in his eyes.
“Glad to see my sword kept you safe,” Samus said as Erza set Mickey on the ground. The mouse looked up at the bounty hunter, and as her smile grew even broader, he rushed her and wrapped his arms around one of her armored legs. She seemed surprised, but patted him on the head gently. She was very glad to see him.
His gaze flickered to the other, unfamiliar man, who he had hoped in vain was Harry Dresden. Introduction would come later, the mouse knew, but if Erza and Samus trusted him, Mickey saw no reason for him not to. And even if he did seem untrustworthy, the mouse couldn’t find it in himself to worry about it right now.
After all, he was home.
He remembered—not very fondly, he might add—the moment he had been transported to the island. Tossed out of the helicopter with nothing but a bag full of supplies and a strange contraption that he figured somehow fit on his arm. The first thought he’d had was to scale the lighthouse, get a better look at his surroundings.
He remembered being amazed by what he saw: forests and flora that stretched out as far as his eye could see, hills dotted with nice-looking buildings, and a brilliantly blue ocean that shined even in the dead of night. Everywhere he looked, beauty rested. The fear that the island’s beauty was a façade for its malice had tugged at the back of his thoughts, but somehow, he had let himself into being fooled that he might end up at least a little bit lucky. After all, how in the world could something so gorgeous play host to something so brutal?
He didn’t see that island anymore. Everywhere he looked, he saw the scars of Dante’s Abyss. It sickened him more than his wounds already did. As he traveled across the island’s landscape, he could see the remnants of battle scattered about. A few broken tree limbs here, the scars of somebody’s rocket launcher in the dirt there. This place had lost all of its magic, much like the collar had stripped Mickey of his.
He wanted to go home.
There were only two ways that was happening: he would die, or he would win. And he preferred the latter. But there was a catch: nobody else would lose their life by his hand. He had tasted what it felt like to be a murderer—even if it had been a complete accident—and it had burnt his tongue. He refused to participate in the violence this game propagated anymore.
The mouse stopped to rest for a moment, and in his pause he started to wonder why he had ever let this Omniverse get to him the way it did, as many times as it did. Heck, he was Mickey Mouse, king of the Disney Realms, keyblade master, and all around fun guy! So he’d thought, anyway. But everything in this whole universe got him down. Why the heck did he let these fellas beat him? Back home, nobody stood a chance of dampening his mood, but these jerks had grown especially good at it in a matter of days.
He couldn’t let that happen anymore. His bright, shining, optimistic personality was the only thing that had ever kept him running, and he had let this game—and this whole multiverse in general—stomp all over it ever since he had gotten here. If Minnie could see him now, she would’ve been ashamed.
Not anymore.
His splitting headache rammed back into him with a vengeance, and he swayed a bit, woozy. Well, he might be on his way to getting his attitude back, but that definitely still stung.
His head focused back into the game as three silhouettes appeared on the horizon. The mouse dove behind some shrubbery—his size served him well in some instances—and sat himself on the ground to try and counteract the massive throbbing he felt in his brain. He peered out of the bushes, hoping these guys would just walk on by him, not even noticing the big ears sticking out ever so slightly from the leaves.
And then suddenly, his day got even brighter.
“ERZA! SAMUS!”
He sprinted out of his hiding place, and the trio’s gaze turned to him. The man seemed to slide quickly into a defensive pose, but Erza and Samus relaxed at the sight of him.
“Mickey,” Samus exhaled, nodding and lowering her flak cannon. Without her helmet on, Mickey could see the grin that crept onto her face—was it the first time he had ever seen her smile?
It gave him a little bit more life.
Mickey leapt up into his redheaded companion’s arms, burying his face in her shoulders. She laughed a little bit. “Good to see you too, Mick,” the knight smiled, and all Mickey could do was nod. He felt the tears of relief swelling up in his eyes.
“Glad to see my sword kept you safe,” Samus said as Erza set Mickey on the ground. The mouse looked up at the bounty hunter, and as her smile grew even broader, he rushed her and wrapped his arms around one of her armored legs. She seemed surprised, but patted him on the head gently. She was very glad to see him.
His gaze flickered to the other, unfamiliar man, who he had hoped in vain was Harry Dresden. Introduction would come later, the mouse knew, but if Erza and Samus trusted him, Mickey saw no reason for him not to. And even if he did seem untrustworthy, the mouse couldn’t find it in himself to worry about it right now.
After all, he was home.
![[Image: 2agonyw.png]](http://i68.tinypic.com/2agonyw.png)