06-24-2017, 10:19 AM
The moment Batman said he had a feeling, my suspicion began to grow. No doubt he has his Bat-senses like I have my haki. And for some reason I’m inclined to trust him when he says to err on the side of caution.
Sure enough, not five minutes later, I can sense several incoming figures on my haki. “Son of a bitch,” I swear. “You’ve got good instincts, Bat-man.”
He grunts, as if to say ‘yeah’.
I like this guy!
The safehouse in this place is less ritzy and idyllic than the last one. It’s just a block of concrete, all things considered, and I wouldn’t have even found it if not for the map. Batman and I stride side-by-side, and I step ahead to push the door open and enter.
“Honey, I’m home!”
“Oh, welcome back!” comes a sweet, high-pitched female voice.
Finally. I turn the corner and there’s …
A guy in red-and-black striped spandex. Wearing … a pink frilly apron. That’s … just …
Something.
“Who the hell are you?” I ask. “Gimp-man?”
“With those pecs? I’m whoever you want me to be, sweetie.” He winks. How does … how does he wink with the mask on?
“You can call me God Enel,” I snarl.
He puts a hand to where his mouth would be, gasping. “God Enel. Well I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, mister God. I’m Deadpool, but honey is just fine.” He winks again. I want him to stop that at once.
I turn to Batman. “Friend of yours?”
He growls. “Never heard of him before this competition. He’s not from my world.”
“But I know you,” Deadpool lisps, pointy a dainty finger at Batman. “You’re …” He narrows his eyes. “…White Black Panther?”
“… Batman.”
I quickly make my way past the effeminate muscleman while he’s distracted by my compadre. (Sorry, Batman – I didn’t expect to have to use you as a human shield this soon.) In the room are two others, a pointy-eared fellow with blonde hair and--”
I gasp. “Grimdark! You’re still alive? Fuck me. It’s good to see ya, man!” I extend a hand as though in offering, then slide it back before he can even extend his. “Haha, gotcha. Don’t touch me, ever.”
I move over to the couch, ignoring anything he might be saying in response. Twitter has been blowing up in my absence, and it takes me ages to catch up. Eh?! They’re all complaining because I ducked out of the drop zone before all the peons got there.
Impudent fucks. Who in my name do they think they all are?!
[float=left]![[Image: Enel-Twitter.jpg]](http://i87.photobucket.com/albums/k124/Greg0rz/Enel-Twitter.jpg)
[/float]
@GodEnel
Hey dipshits, I’m not some glorified bug-zapper. Let the scrubs duke it all out. Some of us have places to be.
Tch. Not all of them are ignorant comments. A few, recognise my glory. They’ve been putting little marks next to their posts like #GodEnelForChamp and #GodEnelWinsDA. I’m glad there are some mortals for whom there is still a shred of hope.
Deadpool leans around the kitchen counter. “Hey sweetie,” he lisps, “I’m making bacon. You want some?” I can practically see his leg up behind him, foot touching his ass. In fact … no, he’s really doing it. There’s a reflection in the glass behind him.
“… Yeah,” I grumble.
“Wonderfulll. And you, Batty-wats?”
The Batman growls, “Yes, please.”
“Now you boys get comfortable now! I’ll bring it riiight over when it’s ready.”
I can’t complain. It’s not the maid I wanted, or deserve, but … it’s the one I get right now.
After my bacon and toast, I’m feeling a little bit better. I’d forgotten what semi-edible food tastes like. I take a moment to put my legs up. I’ve barely had a chance to rest since this competition started, and it’s nice to take a breather. I may be a God, but I get tired too … sometimes.
Honestly, I’m starting to feel a little bad about snapping at my twitter followers. They just want to see me fight, and who can blame them? Me going at full power is a glorious spectacle. Unfortunately, this is an endurance competition, and I have to pace myself. Not all of us can go without food or sleep like that fucking Henderson chap. The name of the game is items and survival.
Batman starts a conversation for the first time, I think, since I’ve met him. “Rest up, but we might not want to stick around too long. Neither of us have been culled for the colosseum yet. It can’t be far off.” It’s probably the most he’s spoken since we’ve met, too. Poor man. Well, your God is here to answer your prayers. Or at least listen. I don’t … guarantee results.
“Pfff, I’m not worried about that. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to fight all those rabid dogs outside. I’ve got better things to do than dirty my hands with every suicidal fanboy on the island. A God needs standards.”
Batman made a noise of agreement. “A brawl with so many others has … too many unpredictable elements.”
“But the colosseum?” I continue, “Nah. The colosseum is a nice fair arena for me to showcase my talents. I wouldn’t mind.”
Batman heads off somewhere to sleep, or something, and I yawn before checking my Dataverse device. There’s something … addictive about watching one’s followers go up. Even those who claim to hate me, who say I’m ‘reprehensible’ are still watching my every move. I’ve got a gravitational pull that none can resist. I’m a phenomena, a happening. I’m the main event, son.
And funnily enough, they’ve latched onto my comment about the colosseum. These thirsty fuckers are dying for a bit of my lightning. They were really let down that I left the drop zone, huh?
Oh go on then. I’m a merciful God.
[float=left][/float]
@GodEnel
If this gets 10,000 retweets, I will volunteer to go to the colosseum. #Enel #DA
I yawn and stretch my arms. Time for a nap.
Sure enough, not five minutes later, I can sense several incoming figures on my haki. “Son of a bitch,” I swear. “You’ve got good instincts, Bat-man.”
He grunts, as if to say ‘yeah’.
I like this guy!
The safehouse in this place is less ritzy and idyllic than the last one. It’s just a block of concrete, all things considered, and I wouldn’t have even found it if not for the map. Batman and I stride side-by-side, and I step ahead to push the door open and enter.
“Honey, I’m home!”
“Oh, welcome back!” comes a sweet, high-pitched female voice.
Finally. I turn the corner and there’s …
A guy in red-and-black striped spandex. Wearing … a pink frilly apron. That’s … just …
Something.
“Who the hell are you?” I ask. “Gimp-man?”
“With those pecs? I’m whoever you want me to be, sweetie.” He winks. How does … how does he wink with the mask on?
“You can call me God Enel,” I snarl.
He puts a hand to where his mouth would be, gasping. “God Enel. Well I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, mister God. I’m Deadpool, but honey is just fine.” He winks again. I want him to stop that at once.
I turn to Batman. “Friend of yours?”
He growls. “Never heard of him before this competition. He’s not from my world.”
“But I know you,” Deadpool lisps, pointy a dainty finger at Batman. “You’re …” He narrows his eyes. “…White Black Panther?”
“… Batman.”
I quickly make my way past the effeminate muscleman while he’s distracted by my compadre. (Sorry, Batman – I didn’t expect to have to use you as a human shield this soon.) In the room are two others, a pointy-eared fellow with blonde hair and--”
I gasp. “Grimdark! You’re still alive? Fuck me. It’s good to see ya, man!” I extend a hand as though in offering, then slide it back before he can even extend his. “Haha, gotcha. Don’t touch me, ever.”
I move over to the couch, ignoring anything he might be saying in response. Twitter has been blowing up in my absence, and it takes me ages to catch up. Eh?! They’re all complaining because I ducked out of the drop zone before all the peons got there.
Impudent fucks. Who in my name do they think they all are?!
[float=left]
[/float]@GodEnel
Hey dipshits, I’m not some glorified bug-zapper. Let the scrubs duke it all out. Some of us have places to be.
Tch. Not all of them are ignorant comments. A few, recognise my glory. They’ve been putting little marks next to their posts like #GodEnelForChamp and #GodEnelWinsDA. I’m glad there are some mortals for whom there is still a shred of hope.
Deadpool leans around the kitchen counter. “Hey sweetie,” he lisps, “I’m making bacon. You want some?” I can practically see his leg up behind him, foot touching his ass. In fact … no, he’s really doing it. There’s a reflection in the glass behind him.
“… Yeah,” I grumble.
“Wonderfulll. And you, Batty-wats?”
The Batman growls, “Yes, please.”
“Now you boys get comfortable now! I’ll bring it riiight over when it’s ready.”
I can’t complain. It’s not the maid I wanted, or deserve, but … it’s the one I get right now.
After my bacon and toast, I’m feeling a little bit better. I’d forgotten what semi-edible food tastes like. I take a moment to put my legs up. I’ve barely had a chance to rest since this competition started, and it’s nice to take a breather. I may be a God, but I get tired too … sometimes.
Honestly, I’m starting to feel a little bad about snapping at my twitter followers. They just want to see me fight, and who can blame them? Me going at full power is a glorious spectacle. Unfortunately, this is an endurance competition, and I have to pace myself. Not all of us can go without food or sleep like that fucking Henderson chap. The name of the game is items and survival.
Batman starts a conversation for the first time, I think, since I’ve met him. “Rest up, but we might not want to stick around too long. Neither of us have been culled for the colosseum yet. It can’t be far off.” It’s probably the most he’s spoken since we’ve met, too. Poor man. Well, your God is here to answer your prayers. Or at least listen. I don’t … guarantee results.
“Pfff, I’m not worried about that. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to fight all those rabid dogs outside. I’ve got better things to do than dirty my hands with every suicidal fanboy on the island. A God needs standards.”
Batman made a noise of agreement. “A brawl with so many others has … too many unpredictable elements.”
“But the colosseum?” I continue, “Nah. The colosseum is a nice fair arena for me to showcase my talents. I wouldn’t mind.”
Batman heads off somewhere to sleep, or something, and I yawn before checking my Dataverse device. There’s something … addictive about watching one’s followers go up. Even those who claim to hate me, who say I’m ‘reprehensible’ are still watching my every move. I’ve got a gravitational pull that none can resist. I’m a phenomena, a happening. I’m the main event, son.
And funnily enough, they’ve latched onto my comment about the colosseum. These thirsty fuckers are dying for a bit of my lightning. They were really let down that I left the drop zone, huh?
Oh go on then. I’m a merciful God.
[float=left]
[/float]@GodEnel
If this gets 10,000 retweets, I will volunteer to go to the colosseum. #Enel #DA
I yawn and stretch my arms. Time for a nap.
![[Image: godenel_baronsig.png]](http://omniverse-rpg.com/images/godenel_baronsig.png)