06-07-2015, 10:53 PM
“LUFFY!”
Mickey’s scream pierced the morning air as he sprinted toward his stretchy companion. Despite his litany of injuries, he closed the distance quickly, but by the time he reached the pirate-captain, the light had left his eyes. Monkey D. Luffy was gone.
The rubbery man’s form slumped over next to his emerald-skinned assailant. Mickey caught his body as it fell, the impact sending a shooting pain up his handless-arm. He cringed, and dragged Luffy away from their attacker. Heaving as he struggled to breathe, he ripped Retane’s cleaver from his friend’s body and threw it to the side, collapsing in a heap on top of the bloodied pirate.
He wept, but no tears came out. He had exhausted every single function that his diminutive body could have ever accomplished. In his heart, he knew it was over for him.
Karl Jak’s voice boomed overhead, and the knell of Samus Aran and Gildarts’ death hung like a dark cloud over his sunny patch of earth. So, that was it. Out of everyone he had met in this game—all of his allies, all of his friends—only he remained.
In a way, it comforted the mouse to know that his friends had been freed of this goshdarn murder island. If he’d been told the truth, then after losing their grip on the mortal coil they would just wake up somewhere else, refreshed and fully alive once more. The thought tempted him to try ripping off his collar again.
But he knew that wasn’t an option anymore. Only five people remained in this game, which meant that only four people stood between him and his true purpose: he would win. He would make his friends proud.
If he could ever get the fudging strength to move, that is.
His bones rebelled against him as he shifted on top of Luffy, trying to regain his balance and stand back up. Mugiwara’s face stared up at him, with that last grin still plastered on his rubbery face. Mickey looked down, and for the first time in a while he smiled, too. Relief washed over him as he realized that in just a few short hours, this game would be done. He would go to that clinic, and he would give his all—however little he had—to try and win, but either way, soon he would be off the island and back in the company of his friends.
Slowly, he finally managed to steady himself on his feet. He inched away from Luffy’s body as fast as his feet could take him—not very fast, admittedly—and slowly returned to where he had dropped Mjolnir. Four gloved fingers wrapped around the handle of the hammer he and Erza had won in their very first fight, and he tried to pull it off the ground.
It didn’t budge.
“Son of a…” he started, tugging again. Still nothing. Son of a gun, indeed.
“…son of a BITCH!”
The mouse’s shout echoed loudly throughout the forest. Language, he inwardly scolded himself, though even he had to admit that after everything he’d been through, he deserved a little bit of foul language.
“Ugh,” the mouse King groaned, plopping down on the ground next to the hammer. How the heck was he supposed to win this thing if he couldn’t even muster the strength to pick up his weapon? He had to, though. At this point, winning was the only option—out of respect for Erza, and Samus, and Harry, and Gildarts, and Luffy, he would bring it home.
He just had to figure out how.
Over by Retane’s corpse, something moved.
The mouse’s gargantuan ears perked up, and he heard the faint slithering sounds of whatever organism had latched itself onto the Namekian. Picking himself up off the ground, he limped over to see the blood-red, sluggish creature fleeing the scene, desperately trying to worm its way into the cover of the forest just a few yards away. Mickey’s brow furrowed, and he stepped past Retane and Luffy to go after it. Even in his weakened state, he moved faster than the mysterious little thing and caught up to it rather easily.
With his one remaining hand, Mickey Mouse reached for the Orgosynth. The creature recoiled, but it couldn’t escape. The mouse extended his arm a bit more. Carefully, he touched it.
It felt… soft.
Mickey’s scream pierced the morning air as he sprinted toward his stretchy companion. Despite his litany of injuries, he closed the distance quickly, but by the time he reached the pirate-captain, the light had left his eyes. Monkey D. Luffy was gone.
The rubbery man’s form slumped over next to his emerald-skinned assailant. Mickey caught his body as it fell, the impact sending a shooting pain up his handless-arm. He cringed, and dragged Luffy away from their attacker. Heaving as he struggled to breathe, he ripped Retane’s cleaver from his friend’s body and threw it to the side, collapsing in a heap on top of the bloodied pirate.
He wept, but no tears came out. He had exhausted every single function that his diminutive body could have ever accomplished. In his heart, he knew it was over for him.
Karl Jak’s voice boomed overhead, and the knell of Samus Aran and Gildarts’ death hung like a dark cloud over his sunny patch of earth. So, that was it. Out of everyone he had met in this game—all of his allies, all of his friends—only he remained.
In a way, it comforted the mouse to know that his friends had been freed of this goshdarn murder island. If he’d been told the truth, then after losing their grip on the mortal coil they would just wake up somewhere else, refreshed and fully alive once more. The thought tempted him to try ripping off his collar again.
But he knew that wasn’t an option anymore. Only five people remained in this game, which meant that only four people stood between him and his true purpose: he would win. He would make his friends proud.
If he could ever get the fudging strength to move, that is.
His bones rebelled against him as he shifted on top of Luffy, trying to regain his balance and stand back up. Mugiwara’s face stared up at him, with that last grin still plastered on his rubbery face. Mickey looked down, and for the first time in a while he smiled, too. Relief washed over him as he realized that in just a few short hours, this game would be done. He would go to that clinic, and he would give his all—however little he had—to try and win, but either way, soon he would be off the island and back in the company of his friends.
Slowly, he finally managed to steady himself on his feet. He inched away from Luffy’s body as fast as his feet could take him—not very fast, admittedly—and slowly returned to where he had dropped Mjolnir. Four gloved fingers wrapped around the handle of the hammer he and Erza had won in their very first fight, and he tried to pull it off the ground.
It didn’t budge.
“Son of a…” he started, tugging again. Still nothing. Son of a gun, indeed.
“…son of a BITCH!”
The mouse’s shout echoed loudly throughout the forest. Language, he inwardly scolded himself, though even he had to admit that after everything he’d been through, he deserved a little bit of foul language.
“Ugh,” the mouse King groaned, plopping down on the ground next to the hammer. How the heck was he supposed to win this thing if he couldn’t even muster the strength to pick up his weapon? He had to, though. At this point, winning was the only option—out of respect for Erza, and Samus, and Harry, and Gildarts, and Luffy, he would bring it home.
He just had to figure out how.
Over by Retane’s corpse, something moved.
The mouse’s gargantuan ears perked up, and he heard the faint slithering sounds of whatever organism had latched itself onto the Namekian. Picking himself up off the ground, he limped over to see the blood-red, sluggish creature fleeing the scene, desperately trying to worm its way into the cover of the forest just a few yards away. Mickey’s brow furrowed, and he stepped past Retane and Luffy to go after it. Even in his weakened state, he moved faster than the mysterious little thing and caught up to it rather easily.
With his one remaining hand, Mickey Mouse reached for the Orgosynth. The creature recoiled, but it couldn’t escape. The mouse extended his arm a bit more. Carefully, he touched it.
It felt… soft.
![[Image: 2agonyw.png]](http://i68.tinypic.com/2agonyw.png)