06-27-2015, 10:37 PM
Coruscant thrilled Mickey. The fast pace of this new, weirdly futuristic verse overwhelmed the little mouse, hypnotizing him more effectively than the serene locales of Camelot. Sure, the grassy fields and high battlements of the medieval realm painted a glorious picture, but what was he supposed to do with pictures? The city satiated his newfound thirst for adventure much more readily; after all, within his first moments here he found himself smack dab in the middle of a high speed chase.
In the end, he had lost the Twi’lek girl—that’s what Riku had called her, Twi’lek—and been left to deal with the boy, who claimed to know Mickey from their home world. The mouse, for his part, had never in his life met the boy, and dismissed his supposed “memories” of the Heartless invasion as one of Omni’s ploys—though, perhaps, he would admit, the matter deserved further thought.
That could come later, though. Now, he wandered around the many top tiers of Coruscant, busying himself with the different attractions. They literally had everything here—he had spent hours going up and down in a contraption called an elevator, pored over several books in a big tower called the Library of Coruscant, and even, at last, gotten that cheesecake from the factory place he had passed before getting caught up in that alien girl’s escape. For the record, it tasted even more delicious than he had ever imagined it could. This big city proved to be quite the excursion for the mouse, who had been looking for something more fun and relaxing ever since leaving the heck-hole that was Dante’s Abyss.
Tier 1 stretched out before the mouse, looking altogether like his big, shiny playground. He scurried down the roads, in and out of alleyways, looking for his next big adventure.
It turned out, however, the adventure was prepared to come to him.
“Stop right there,” a mechanically-altered voice spoke up behind him. The King turned to see a small squadron of white-armored soldiers—stormtroopers, he’d heard them called—clanking their way toward him. One of the soldiers tightened his grip on his futuristic rifle. The mouse’s nerves suddenly went through the roof. He hadn’t broken any laws or gotten into any trouble, really—what did they want with him?
“You talkin’ to me?” the mouse asked, though his inflection was much friendlier than that of the more famous utterance. A few meters away, the squadron stopped, looking like they wanted to keep a safe distance. Silly stormtroopers, Mickey giggled inwardly, I ain’t gonna hurt ya. “Whatsa matter, fellas?” Mickey squeaked, taking a step toward them.
The anxious trooper yanked his gun up, aiming it straight at the mouse’s gargantuan head. Almost automatically, Mickey’s hands shot up. The soldier in front—the leader, Mickey supposed—lifted a hand, signling the other trooper to stand down. “B-but—” the nervous one stammered, “they said he’s dangerous, captain.” Mickey’s brow furrowed—who said he was dangerous? And why the heck would they think that? He supposed he had showed off a good display of power in Dante’s Abyss, but these guys had nothing to fear from him; they were just enforcing the law.
“Stay calm, soldier,” the leader held his gesture firm, and the scared guy lowered his weapon. The captain turned back to Mickey. “Mickey Mouse, under the authority of the Empire and its great leader, Emperor Palpatine, you are hereby placed under arrest.”
Mickey waited for the punch line.
“…alright, I’ll bite,” he shrugged, chuckling, “what exactly am I under arrest for? I haven’t done nothin’ wrong.”
“The Empire has the authority to place individuals it deems particularly dangerous under arrest,” the captain explained, and Mickey blinked a few times, puzzled. “The policy is in place so that our researchers may study you and discover how much of a threat you pose to us—if you pose a threat at all.”
“Whoa, wait just a goshdarn minute,” Mickey halted the man’s explanation. “You’re tryin’ to arrest me so you can turn me into a lab rat?” The mouse lowered his gloved hands, taking a few steps away from the contingent of pearly-white soldiers. The captain raised his hand again, and immediately the squadron’s rifles went up in unison, almost like perfectly-practiced choreography. Now, they all aimed for him. “Well, there’s absolutely no need for that,” the mouse rolled his eyes.
“Or, at least,” he continued, “there wasn’t.”
Shots rang out, and the King launched into a backflip. Red lasers scorched the ground where he stood as he maneuvered out of the way, and immediately ducked down a side alley. The clinking of the stormtroopers’ white armor followed him into the alleyway, and so the mouse broke into a sprint.
In his right hand, his Keyblade materialized, and he spun on his heel, bringing the blade up in front of him just as one of the blood-red energy bolts sped toward him. It bounced off the blue metal of his Star Seeker blade, along with several other bolts Mickey quickly deflected. “The more you fight,” the leader said, “the worse this is for you.”
“Actually,” the mouse shrugged, “the more I fight, the worse it is for you.” He aimed the Keyblade for the anxious soldier and shot off a Pearl, which collided into its target post-haste. He stumbled backwards, dropping his rifle on the ground with a thunk. When the piece of black metal slammed into the metallic ground of Coruscant’s top tier, it fired off another shot, which sped toward the mouse.
Mickey flipped clumsily out of the way, stumbling over the tier’s edge and plummeting off the side of the platform into the city’s lower levels. High above, the stormtroopers rallied around their injured comrade.
In the end, he had lost the Twi’lek girl—that’s what Riku had called her, Twi’lek—and been left to deal with the boy, who claimed to know Mickey from their home world. The mouse, for his part, had never in his life met the boy, and dismissed his supposed “memories” of the Heartless invasion as one of Omni’s ploys—though, perhaps, he would admit, the matter deserved further thought.
That could come later, though. Now, he wandered around the many top tiers of Coruscant, busying himself with the different attractions. They literally had everything here—he had spent hours going up and down in a contraption called an elevator, pored over several books in a big tower called the Library of Coruscant, and even, at last, gotten that cheesecake from the factory place he had passed before getting caught up in that alien girl’s escape. For the record, it tasted even more delicious than he had ever imagined it could. This big city proved to be quite the excursion for the mouse, who had been looking for something more fun and relaxing ever since leaving the heck-hole that was Dante’s Abyss.
Tier 1 stretched out before the mouse, looking altogether like his big, shiny playground. He scurried down the roads, in and out of alleyways, looking for his next big adventure.
It turned out, however, the adventure was prepared to come to him.
“Stop right there,” a mechanically-altered voice spoke up behind him. The King turned to see a small squadron of white-armored soldiers—stormtroopers, he’d heard them called—clanking their way toward him. One of the soldiers tightened his grip on his futuristic rifle. The mouse’s nerves suddenly went through the roof. He hadn’t broken any laws or gotten into any trouble, really—what did they want with him?
“You talkin’ to me?” the mouse asked, though his inflection was much friendlier than that of the more famous utterance. A few meters away, the squadron stopped, looking like they wanted to keep a safe distance. Silly stormtroopers, Mickey giggled inwardly, I ain’t gonna hurt ya. “Whatsa matter, fellas?” Mickey squeaked, taking a step toward them.
The anxious trooper yanked his gun up, aiming it straight at the mouse’s gargantuan head. Almost automatically, Mickey’s hands shot up. The soldier in front—the leader, Mickey supposed—lifted a hand, signling the other trooper to stand down. “B-but—” the nervous one stammered, “they said he’s dangerous, captain.” Mickey’s brow furrowed—who said he was dangerous? And why the heck would they think that? He supposed he had showed off a good display of power in Dante’s Abyss, but these guys had nothing to fear from him; they were just enforcing the law.
“Stay calm, soldier,” the leader held his gesture firm, and the scared guy lowered his weapon. The captain turned back to Mickey. “Mickey Mouse, under the authority of the Empire and its great leader, Emperor Palpatine, you are hereby placed under arrest.”
Mickey waited for the punch line.
“…alright, I’ll bite,” he shrugged, chuckling, “what exactly am I under arrest for? I haven’t done nothin’ wrong.”
“The Empire has the authority to place individuals it deems particularly dangerous under arrest,” the captain explained, and Mickey blinked a few times, puzzled. “The policy is in place so that our researchers may study you and discover how much of a threat you pose to us—if you pose a threat at all.”
“Whoa, wait just a goshdarn minute,” Mickey halted the man’s explanation. “You’re tryin’ to arrest me so you can turn me into a lab rat?” The mouse lowered his gloved hands, taking a few steps away from the contingent of pearly-white soldiers. The captain raised his hand again, and immediately the squadron’s rifles went up in unison, almost like perfectly-practiced choreography. Now, they all aimed for him. “Well, there’s absolutely no need for that,” the mouse rolled his eyes.
“Or, at least,” he continued, “there wasn’t.”
Shots rang out, and the King launched into a backflip. Red lasers scorched the ground where he stood as he maneuvered out of the way, and immediately ducked down a side alley. The clinking of the stormtroopers’ white armor followed him into the alleyway, and so the mouse broke into a sprint.
In his right hand, his Keyblade materialized, and he spun on his heel, bringing the blade up in front of him just as one of the blood-red energy bolts sped toward him. It bounced off the blue metal of his Star Seeker blade, along with several other bolts Mickey quickly deflected. “The more you fight,” the leader said, “the worse this is for you.”
“Actually,” the mouse shrugged, “the more I fight, the worse it is for you.” He aimed the Keyblade for the anxious soldier and shot off a Pearl, which collided into its target post-haste. He stumbled backwards, dropping his rifle on the ground with a thunk. When the piece of black metal slammed into the metallic ground of Coruscant’s top tier, it fired off another shot, which sped toward the mouse.
Mickey flipped clumsily out of the way, stumbling over the tier’s edge and plummeting off the side of the platform into the city’s lower levels. High above, the stormtroopers rallied around their injured comrade.
![[Image: 2agonyw.png]](http://i68.tinypic.com/2agonyw.png)