06-09-2015, 01:50 PM
It was raining.
The eyes of the bleeding space marine locked on to him. The metallic pole jutted out through his abdomen, and though the mouse couldn’t be sure, he thought he saw the light in the man’s eyes flickering out.
This man’s life was not in his hands.
He turned to see the ninja staring him down. Lightning danced around his blade, and around the mouse’s hammer, and high above them in the clouds.
Gripping Mjolnir tightly, Mickey Mouse charged Sasuke Uchiha.
He jolted upright. Blinding white fluorescent lights assaulted his little black pupils. The mouse raised both of his gloved hands to his face and—
…both?
His gaze fell to his arms, and sure enough, both of his hands were there. He wiggled his eight fingers to assure himself of their realness. If his hand had regenerated, then… did that mean? He looked up, taking in his surroundings: he seemed to be in some sort of fancy-looking medical bay, a bunch of shiny contraptions scattered about the room. He looked down at his body to see himself dressed in a hospital gown and laying on a comfy-looking bed.
All of this could only mean one thing: Dante’s Abyss was over.
He had never been happier in his life.
Removing the various attachments the doctors and nurses of the Dante’s Abyss facility had stuck in him, the mouse slid off the hospital bed and quickly changed out of his hospital gown and into some more appropriate and Mickey-esque clothes, summoned in a matter of minutes with Omnilium. Convenient system this Omniverse had.
He walked—no, he ran out of the medical bay and out into the Preshow facility, relishing at the sight of all of the absolutely, unflinchingly normal people that milled about. Things were winding down, it seemed, and through the crowd, he saw a man in a duster chasing after a streak of flowing red hair.
He smiled and ran after them.
“Excuse me!” a voice called behind him, “Excuse me, Mr. Mouse!” Mickey stopped his sprint and glanced over his shoulder, seeing the same bubbly blonde from the barracks chasing after him. She’d lost her sass and now seemed much more peppy.
“I’ve been asked to inform any of the final nine competitors to proceed to the VIP area to receive their prize,” she smiled broadly at him. “And since you’re the second runner-up, you’d better get going!”
The mouse blinked. Second runner-up? He supposed that was true. The only people left at the clinic when that blast of plasma had overcome him were the marine and the ninja, so by all accounts, that made him third. He wondered, idly, what type of prize the third place winner of this murder island contest would receive; a part of him didn’t want to accept it and give them the satisfaction of legitimizing this awful competition, but he figured it would be better to be polite and hurry up and get this game finished. Besides, Samus might be there.
The blonde turned away from him, and Mickey took one last look at the gate to the Nexus that Erza and Harry had passed through. They were gone.
Soon, he thought.
He scurried off to receive his reward.
The eyes of the bleeding space marine locked on to him. The metallic pole jutted out through his abdomen, and though the mouse couldn’t be sure, he thought he saw the light in the man’s eyes flickering out.
This man’s life was not in his hands.
He turned to see the ninja staring him down. Lightning danced around his blade, and around the mouse’s hammer, and high above them in the clouds.
Gripping Mjolnir tightly, Mickey Mouse charged Sasuke Uchiha.
He jolted upright. Blinding white fluorescent lights assaulted his little black pupils. The mouse raised both of his gloved hands to his face and—
…both?
His gaze fell to his arms, and sure enough, both of his hands were there. He wiggled his eight fingers to assure himself of their realness. If his hand had regenerated, then… did that mean? He looked up, taking in his surroundings: he seemed to be in some sort of fancy-looking medical bay, a bunch of shiny contraptions scattered about the room. He looked down at his body to see himself dressed in a hospital gown and laying on a comfy-looking bed.
All of this could only mean one thing: Dante’s Abyss was over.
He had never been happier in his life.
Removing the various attachments the doctors and nurses of the Dante’s Abyss facility had stuck in him, the mouse slid off the hospital bed and quickly changed out of his hospital gown and into some more appropriate and Mickey-esque clothes, summoned in a matter of minutes with Omnilium. Convenient system this Omniverse had.
He walked—no, he ran out of the medical bay and out into the Preshow facility, relishing at the sight of all of the absolutely, unflinchingly normal people that milled about. Things were winding down, it seemed, and through the crowd, he saw a man in a duster chasing after a streak of flowing red hair.
He smiled and ran after them.
“Excuse me!” a voice called behind him, “Excuse me, Mr. Mouse!” Mickey stopped his sprint and glanced over his shoulder, seeing the same bubbly blonde from the barracks chasing after him. She’d lost her sass and now seemed much more peppy.
“I’ve been asked to inform any of the final nine competitors to proceed to the VIP area to receive their prize,” she smiled broadly at him. “And since you’re the second runner-up, you’d better get going!”
The mouse blinked. Second runner-up? He supposed that was true. The only people left at the clinic when that blast of plasma had overcome him were the marine and the ninja, so by all accounts, that made him third. He wondered, idly, what type of prize the third place winner of this murder island contest would receive; a part of him didn’t want to accept it and give them the satisfaction of legitimizing this awful competition, but he figured it would be better to be polite and hurry up and get this game finished. Besides, Samus might be there.
The blonde turned away from him, and Mickey took one last look at the gate to the Nexus that Erza and Harry had passed through. They were gone.
Soon, he thought.
He scurried off to receive his reward.
![[Image: 2agonyw.png]](http://i68.tinypic.com/2agonyw.png)