02-02-2016, 08:22 PM
That thing kept staring at him.
Something unnerved him about this whole situation. The mouse didn’t like to make snap judgments of people; after all, pretty much everyone in this room was quite clearly scoping out the rest of the primes Teucer had abducted here, scanning the “competition.” The air in the room had taken a turn for the tense. Mickey could not fathom it. They shared a goal: find Teucer’s armor and return it to him. Help him achieve his wish and reach his final resting place, so he could live in peace. What part of that required competing?
Sure, the guy had promised one of the relics to the prime that brought them all back and ended up being the middle-man between him and Elysium. That didn’t matter to Mickey, though—the satisfaction of helping Teucer escape his torments would be enough. He certainly wouldn’t reject the relic if the man offered it, but he couldn’t imagine that being the primary incentive. Weren’t any of these people helping the spirit just because he desperately needed it?
The Omniverse, Mickey supposed, was filled with a whole host of unsavory people. Everywhere he went, the moral fibers of the primes that surrounded him grew thinner and thinner. Oh, well; at least he’d met a few friends along the way. He could count on Proto Man to do the right thing and this Belle girl didn’t seem so bad yet.
A few yards away, though, he’d seemed to have attracted an admirer. Mickey paid little mind to the mysterious figure other than to notice the occasional glance sent his way—sure, everyone was scanning the room. It was hard not to see this prime’s focus zero in on himself, though. He shrugged it off; Belle required his attention.
“That long ago, huh?” she sighed. “I mean, if you’ve gotta think about it that hard.”
Mickey’s eyes fluttered back up to the redhead. In the right light, she reminded him distinctly of an old friend he hadn’t seen in far too long. The mouse made a mental note to try and discover if Erza Scarlet had managed to fall into Teucer’s clutches, though he imagined he would know by now if she had. He sighed—he and the knight made a stellar team in Dante’s Abyss, and he certainly wouldn’t have minded her help now. He trusted her way more than he could afford to trust any of the many, many unknowns flitting about the temple.
“Not too awful long,” the mouse finally returned his full focus to Belle. “Maybe a few months—or weeks? I don’t really know, I’ve sort of lost track.”
“Yeah,” she shrugged. “Time is… weird here, I think.” The observation was surprisingly astute given its simplicity. The mouse smiled and nodded in agreement.
“I’m goin’ back, though,” he locked eyes with the redhead.
“Back?”
“You bet your bottom dollar,” he squeaked, standing up straight, “I’m gonna find a way. But first we gotta help out this guy. Might as well make this world a better place while I’m stuck in it, huh?” Belle quirked an eyebrow, but seemed not to disagree.
“Such an original hero,” Belle chuckled just a bit.
“Just doin’ my part,” the King shrugged. “Although I don’t really know how I’m gonna get anything without any of my powers. I’m pretty sure everything’s gone.” The mouse glanced down at his white-gloved hands, getting an eerie Dante’s Abyss vibe creeping up his spine. Certainly everything here seemed focused on a much more noble goal—although, he supposed, when the goal of the Abyss was just to watch primes kill each other, most things could be considered much more noble—but he still felt as trapped and debilitated as he had by the circumstances surrounding his entry into that arena.
Hopefully, the mouse thought, this won’t take too long. With any luck, some good souls like himself would stumble upon the relics and they could be returned without any unnecessary bloodshed. Judging by the ragtag group of individuals that filled this temple’s main hall, though, that started to seem less and less likely.
He wouldn’t be killing anyone, if he could help it—but others seemed much more inclined.
The suspicious eyes of the other competitors began to make his fur crawl. “Hey, Belle,” he smiled at the red-headed girl, “we’re friends, right?”
“Uh, I mean, I just met you…” she stammered, “…but I guess you’ve helped me out a time or two?”
“Good,” Mickey replied, and without hesitation, help leapt up onto the girl’s shoulders and swung one of his legs around her neck. The redhead’s hands went instinctively to his legs, to keep him from falling, despite her vocal protests.
“Whoaaaaa,” she exclaimed.
“Ask forgiveness instead of permission!” Mickey grinned, leaning down and flashing a broad, begging smile at the girl. “Sorry?” She grunted in approval.
“God, somebody pinch me again—ow not for real, Mickey, God.”
“Sorry!”
Something unnerved him about this whole situation. The mouse didn’t like to make snap judgments of people; after all, pretty much everyone in this room was quite clearly scoping out the rest of the primes Teucer had abducted here, scanning the “competition.” The air in the room had taken a turn for the tense. Mickey could not fathom it. They shared a goal: find Teucer’s armor and return it to him. Help him achieve his wish and reach his final resting place, so he could live in peace. What part of that required competing?
Sure, the guy had promised one of the relics to the prime that brought them all back and ended up being the middle-man between him and Elysium. That didn’t matter to Mickey, though—the satisfaction of helping Teucer escape his torments would be enough. He certainly wouldn’t reject the relic if the man offered it, but he couldn’t imagine that being the primary incentive. Weren’t any of these people helping the spirit just because he desperately needed it?
The Omniverse, Mickey supposed, was filled with a whole host of unsavory people. Everywhere he went, the moral fibers of the primes that surrounded him grew thinner and thinner. Oh, well; at least he’d met a few friends along the way. He could count on Proto Man to do the right thing and this Belle girl didn’t seem so bad yet.
A few yards away, though, he’d seemed to have attracted an admirer. Mickey paid little mind to the mysterious figure other than to notice the occasional glance sent his way—sure, everyone was scanning the room. It was hard not to see this prime’s focus zero in on himself, though. He shrugged it off; Belle required his attention.
“That long ago, huh?” she sighed. “I mean, if you’ve gotta think about it that hard.”
Mickey’s eyes fluttered back up to the redhead. In the right light, she reminded him distinctly of an old friend he hadn’t seen in far too long. The mouse made a mental note to try and discover if Erza Scarlet had managed to fall into Teucer’s clutches, though he imagined he would know by now if she had. He sighed—he and the knight made a stellar team in Dante’s Abyss, and he certainly wouldn’t have minded her help now. He trusted her way more than he could afford to trust any of the many, many unknowns flitting about the temple.
“Not too awful long,” the mouse finally returned his full focus to Belle. “Maybe a few months—or weeks? I don’t really know, I’ve sort of lost track.”
“Yeah,” she shrugged. “Time is… weird here, I think.” The observation was surprisingly astute given its simplicity. The mouse smiled and nodded in agreement.
“I’m goin’ back, though,” he locked eyes with the redhead.
“Back?”
“You bet your bottom dollar,” he squeaked, standing up straight, “I’m gonna find a way. But first we gotta help out this guy. Might as well make this world a better place while I’m stuck in it, huh?” Belle quirked an eyebrow, but seemed not to disagree.
“Such an original hero,” Belle chuckled just a bit.
“Just doin’ my part,” the King shrugged. “Although I don’t really know how I’m gonna get anything without any of my powers. I’m pretty sure everything’s gone.” The mouse glanced down at his white-gloved hands, getting an eerie Dante’s Abyss vibe creeping up his spine. Certainly everything here seemed focused on a much more noble goal—although, he supposed, when the goal of the Abyss was just to watch primes kill each other, most things could be considered much more noble—but he still felt as trapped and debilitated as he had by the circumstances surrounding his entry into that arena.
Hopefully, the mouse thought, this won’t take too long. With any luck, some good souls like himself would stumble upon the relics and they could be returned without any unnecessary bloodshed. Judging by the ragtag group of individuals that filled this temple’s main hall, though, that started to seem less and less likely.
He wouldn’t be killing anyone, if he could help it—but others seemed much more inclined.
The suspicious eyes of the other competitors began to make his fur crawl. “Hey, Belle,” he smiled at the red-headed girl, “we’re friends, right?”
“Uh, I mean, I just met you…” she stammered, “…but I guess you’ve helped me out a time or two?”
“Good,” Mickey replied, and without hesitation, help leapt up onto the girl’s shoulders and swung one of his legs around her neck. The redhead’s hands went instinctively to his legs, to keep him from falling, despite her vocal protests.
“Whoaaaaa,” she exclaimed.
“Ask forgiveness instead of permission!” Mickey grinned, leaning down and flashing a broad, begging smile at the girl. “Sorry?” She grunted in approval.
“God, somebody pinch me again—ow not for real, Mickey, God.”
“Sorry!”
![[Image: 2agonyw.png]](http://i68.tinypic.com/2agonyw.png)