The Temple of Artemis(Pre-Event/Intro Thread)

[Jak Mar]

Jak just shook his head and remained quiet mulling over things then just shook his head. Victor was messing with him to get him riled up and it was proving nothing.

Jak shrugged, trying to play off the fact vic was trying to make him mad. Once he calmed down, he looked at Vic "Alright, maybe i trust a little too much, but it sure makes for more allies on your side eventually. The desert event was just a hazard. If by chance we meet up, maybe i might knock your ego a few pegs down to normal range. Who knows? We didn't meet in Dante's abyss or the Coliseum.

He kept his eye on Victor, you're right for once. Let's leave our fight for the actual quest.

[Kakashi Hatake]

“That’s a weird ride, bruddah,” Wakka laughed, quickly inspecting Fenrir. The worg glared at the bronzed athlete as his rider steadied himself.

“He’s not as bad as he looks,” Kakashi explained, patting the beast’s head as he fixed his gaze on the horizon. He suspected dusk was not far off, the pink and orange hues of sunset beginning to darken in the sky. They would indeed need to be on their way fairly soon.

“Whatever you say,” the baller replied, still smirking. “Maybe I can summon up a chocobo or somethi…” he said, his voice trailing off.

“Hmm?” Kakashi inquired, still staring thoughtfully down the dusty road. The ninja thought that he could just barely see a settlement in the distance, though the gathering dusk was making it quite a bit harder to parse. In a few moments, the sun’s light had left the sky altogether as night enveloped the duo. “Does it seem strange to you how fast the sun set?”

A familiar feeling of unrest settled over the silver-haired shinobi as he awaited the response, though he got none. Though he could not place where he had last felt this feeling, his body was clearly reacting to it. The darkness crept in more quickly now, obscuring nearly everything from Kakashi’s keen eyes. Something was definitely wrong.

“Wakka?” The copy ninja paused briefly, though again was met with silence. “We should probably head back inside. I think something’s wrong out here.”

Before his ears could yet again be met with silence, the scarecrow felt himself slip backward. His thighs tightened reflexively in an attempt to slow his fall, though it made no difference. It felt as if the enormous hound on which he sat was evaporating beneath him, his stomach lurching as he began to fall. It was at this moment that realization mingled with sensation of falling.

The Nexus… He was being summoned.

The scarecrow could ponder this for only a brief moment before the darkness swelled and swallowed him completely. For the second time in the Omniverse, Kakashi was enveloped in a smothering umbra as he fell. Thankfully, this particular instance of interdimensional plucking was a good deal shorter than the last. Before he could attempt to acclimate to his descent, his body suddenly came to a stop. All at once the darkness lifted, his vision returning.

“Ugh…” The sharingan-wielder groaned, running a gloved hand behind his head. He’d never get used to this form of travel.

Kakashi had found himself in some sort of-if he were to guess-temple, along with a handful of other individuals who looked to be as jarred as he was. The shinobi quickly assessed himself and, finding no damage, got to his feet upon the rough-hewn marble floor. He blinked slowly and intentionally, turning his head to take in the full panorama of ancient stone columns that stood around the periphery, as well as the enormous ornate statue and equally large blessing pool.

Is Omni behind this?

As if in response to his query, a translucent figure glided into view and stopped before him. The average person would likely have reacted with shock or revulsion upon sighting what was clearly a bona fide apparition, but at this point Kakashi was more annoyed than impressed. The spirit, taking the form of an aged warrior, smiled warmly at the shinobi before telling his tale.

The ANBU captain remained silent through the specter’s tale, doing his best to keep his composure. He was not normally one to let things get to him, but being pulled across dimensions so frequently was wearing on his nerves. As the apparition (Teucer, he was called) finished, Kakashi pondered his options.

“Well,” the shinobi replied, “As I can’t leave here willingly, I suppose I don’t have a choice, do I?”

The spirit made no reply, only smiling before drifting off to meet the next guest.

Interesting place, Kakashi mused, taking in the scenery. The temple was quite beautiful, carved from rich marble with true skill. The divining pool bubbled placidly, watched over by the angelic archer. Though he had never considered himself a connoisseur of the arts, he was struck by how picturesque the temple was. Despite his predicament, the sharingan-wielder had to admit, it could be much worse.

The peacefulness of the temple had begun to diminish as more guest began to arrive, the collective conversations smearing into an indecipherable commotion. Kakashi scanned the entrants quizzically, sizing up those with whom he’d be participating. As he glanced past what looked to be an elf with a gun in a heated discussion with a tall blonde warrior, his heart stopped.

“M-Minato-sensei?”

[Kopaka]

The time had come.

Michael Valentine Smith was due to arrive back in Coruscant any hour now, and it would be at this juncture that Kopaka would be able to once again his service to the people of the Empire. Lieutenant Brath had made it clear that failure would not be tolerated on this mission. Kopaka vaguely resented the sentiment that he would let such a thing happen, but the Lieutenant did not know the Toa well enough to think better of the frosty biomech.

And so Kopaka sat on the precipice of one of the high, gilded towers of Coruscant, having used the Kanohi Miru to float gracefully up through the whizzing aeri traffic to a vantagepoint overlooking Coruscant's main thoroughfare. All reports indicated that the dissident was likely to be passing through here, and with the power of the Kanohi Akaku, Kopaka was able to gaze into the belly of each and every passing air truck.

Suddenly, it felt as if he was slipping from his place on the roof. Startled, the Toa grasped fruitlessly at a handhold to prevent his fall, but he at once realized there was no longer a surface to grasp. Everything has gone dark, and not even the all-seeing eyes of the Akaku could pierce the inky veil. The Toa plummeted silently through the void, too startled to panic, before landing hard on a polished stone surface with a terrific crash.

A moment later, his shield and sword failed to come clattering down next to him. The Toa staggered to his feet and gazed warily at the others, but his view was suddenly filled with the azure radiance of some sort of specter. Alarmed, Kopaka's servos whirred violently as he raised his arms in a makeshift defensive posture against this ghost. Instead of making any violent movements, however, the spirit began to speak instead.

...

Once Teucer had finished his speech, he drifted off to give other Primes the same message. Kopaka said nothing, and lowered his arms with synthesized growl. If this Teucer individual had the power to pull them all into his own private universe, how was it he lacked the faculties to do the same to these all-important relics. The Toa had nothing but suspicion for the spirit, but it was too soon to make a decision on whether to cooperate. He needed more information.

And to get that, he would have to talk to other people.

Shuddering slightly at the thought, the Toa of Ice made his way over to the Primes that had already assembled. Everyone was, understandably, on edge, especially a certain young human female Kopaka had accidentally become somewhat familiar with. The girl seemed to hold a healthy skepticism of the situation, which Kopaka entirely agreed with. The two locked eyes for just a brief moment before Ururu rolled hers off to the side.

Aside from her, the Toa had no specific reason to take interest in anyone here, but listening to their banter might reveal some insights into the situation, and if not that, at least their character. What was certain, was that Kopaka's mere presence had already begun to spread a chill amongst the 'Heros'.

[Belle]

Several weeks had passed since Belle had come to the Lady Yuki for aid. Belle was never sure she entirely believed the old woman's insistence that her near-fatal 'initiation' was necessary, but at least since then she had not tried to kill her again.

Belle sat in the center of the courtyard, her legs folded, waiting for Yuki - her 'shishou' - to make her appearance. She wished the old bag would hurry it up - today was the day her friend Lily was set to leave the hospital and return home. She wanted to be there - as a friend, of course, but also some irrational part of her worried that if she wasn't, another set of men would be waiting to finish the job.

She had told Yuki the former. The latter, obviously, she had kept to herself. She wondered if the woman suspected it anyway - she seemed to be able to read Belle like an open book, a trait that the girl found more than a little annoying.

She heard footsteps behind her and turned her head.

Yuki was there, clad in her usual uniform, her conservative martial arts gi looking slightly rumpled, some wavy gray hairs misplaced out of her tight bun. Her eyes, however, were just as impenetrable as always.

Belle stood and turned. "So," she said. "Forms?" The old woman had been running her through 'kata' over the last week. It reminded Belle of ballet class, sort of - another one of those quickly-abandoned career paths her parents had let her experiment with when she was little. She was about as good at them as she was at that, except Yuki liked to reward failure with the application of a stick.

The woman shook her head.

Her heart sank. "Chores, then?"

"No," Yuki said. "None of that. Today you will do something new." She paused, glancing to the side. "Today you will spar."

Belle blinked. "Uh. What?"

"Sparring. It's a mock fight."

"Yeah, I know that," Belle grumbled, suddenly leery. Was there something she had done to piss the old bag off? She thought she'd been trying really hard. Maybe she could read Belle's mind. Perhaps continuing to call her 'old bag' in her head wasn't the smartest idea. "Er, shishou," she amended.

"Don't worry," Yuki grumbled, waving a hand. "You won't be fighting me." She took a breath. "You'll be sparring with your senior."

"My... senior?" Belle repeated the words dumbly. "You teach someone else?" She'd never seen anyone else around the house.

"Yes. In fact, you've already met him."

Yuki pointed to the patio that lined the inner courtyard behind Belle. Belle turned to look, squinting. The door to the house hung ajar, most of the room beyond hidden in shadows. Mister Pickles, Yuki's head-sized dog, looked up from his seated perch on the patio, then back at the two of them.

"So where is he?" Belle asked, looking back at her teacher. She deliberately avoided thoughts of senility - just in case.

Yuki sighed. "He's sitting on the patio."

Belle looked. Then looked back at her. "Are you feeling okay?" she asked, trying to keep the concern out of her voice. "Do you smell anything weird? Like burning toast?"

"I'm not having a stroke, you idiot!" Yuki barked. The old woman's other hand came out from behind her back, whipping a thin branch against Belle's legs. Then, with a prod, she shoved Belle around. "He will be your opponent."

"The dog?" Belle asked, watching as the mutt scratched itself behind an ear.

"It wasn't my idea," Yuki's voice sounded tired. "I wanted to do it, but he ... insisted."

"How- what? That's - you're having a joke on me, right?" Belle blurted. "Look, I know you like to be all mystical and crap, but that's ridiculous!" She blanched as she saw the branch rise again. "Uh. Respectfully. Shishou."

The branch wavered, then lowered without the follow up strike. "You might think it's ridiculous, but it's the way of this universe for the abnormal to be normal."

On the patio, Mister Pickles straightened, his brown-patched white fur shifting as his truncated frame wobbled. Then, to Belle's horror, he stood up on hind legs, his forepaws held up limply in front of him. There was something in the animal's eyes that hadn't been there before.

This wasn't happening.

"He came to me lost, much like you were. I'm not sure who summoned him into this world. Neither is he. But he's intelligent - enough to learn." Yuki gave a heavy sigh, then turned away and started to walk. "You can leave when you manage to land a strike. Oh, and Pickles," she called back, "don't go too rough on her. She still needs to be able to clean."

Mister Pickles barked an affirmative.

"Wait! Hey!" Belle growled. "I told you, I can't be here all day-"

The rest of her words were drowned out a rush of wind as the animal on the patio sprung into action, barreling its head into her gut and sending her flying back, head over heels, into a shrubbery.

~+~+~+~

"The dog," Belle said as she applied a scrub to the toilet. "Of course. Haha."

She was still shell shocked. Bandages were wrapped around her left hand and right forearm, and she winced as she pressed the tool against the composite inner surface of the seat. Of course on Coruscant, none of the materials used in such things really stained, it being a problem they had apparently figured out many millenia ago. Still, Yuki wanted it cleaned anyway.

Belle checked her chrono and felt her heart sink. In twenty-five minutes Lily was going to be released. That wretched old crone Yuki. Belle was positive she had done this deliberately. If Belle had said nothing, she probably would've been fine.

Sighing, Belle lay back upon the floor, staring up at the ceiling. Maybe she could try again in a few minutes. If she rushed the furry bastard, she might be able to get a lucky hit in. It probably wouldn't work, but it was better than sitting around just waiting for the clock to run down, and the soreness in her body had faded enough by this point.

Her vision suddenly distorted, the ceiling appearing to shrink away from her. She pinched her eyes shut and rubbed them. Okay, maybe she wasn't doing as good as she thought.

Belle rubbed a couple more times before opening her eyes again. The ceiling was even farther away... Actually, the entire bathroom was. It was as if the floor had disappeared and she was spiraling into an inky black abyss... Falling... Falling...

She came to a stop abruptly, landing with a smack on something hard and cold.

Belle sat up immediately, then wished she hadn't - now she was both sore and dizzy. She held her head, belatedly realizing that she was still wearing a rubber glove clutching a toilet brush. "Ow," she hissed, blinked. She must've fallen through some kind of trapdoor or something. With the way things were going today, that seemed appropriately ridiculous.

She squinted open her eyes and peered around at her surroundings. That was when she saw the Spirit, and heards its words. She barely absorbed them, her eyes wide. As the glowing blue figure finished, she gaped. Save? Relic? She must be dreaming. She pinched herself. Nope. Well then, there was clearly only one thing to say:

"Holy crap it's a ghost!"

[Minato Namikaze]

Minato had to admit, this palace was beautifully built. The marble columns, The large pool that was filled with crystal clear water, and the statue of a female warrior impressed him. It reminded him of the Kazekage statues in the Hidden sand village, and of the stone faces of Konoha's Hokage. She looked to be a strong warrior, and the way that Teucer seemed to stare up at her made it seem as if he had lost someone close to him. Minato knew what that was like, maybe he had even carved it himself?

'M-Minato-sensei?' A familiar voice rang out above all others that had arrived around him. Kakashi spun around to the shocked expression of Kakashi. Well, as much shock as you could descern from behind that mask of his. Minato was glad, he had felt alienated from everyone else, all the faces that he didn't recognize, it was good to finally find someone he knew. 'Hey, Kakashi, you are here too?' The blonde ninja asked as his former apprentice sighed and nodded.

'What are you doing here, Minato-sensei?' The silver haired ninja asked, a puzzled look on his face. 'I'm not really sure,' Minato began as he looked to the roof of their new environment. 'one minute I was dying, the next I was in a place called the Nexus.' the blonde man continued, letting out an embarrassed laugh as he scratched the back of his head. 'I guess I got lucky.' He finished. Kakashi stood in front of his former sensei. It had been so long since the two had seen each other. He was glad that he had, somehow, been reunited with his deceased teacher.

'Kakashi, how is Naruto?'

[Ururu Kyuuei]

Ururu gave one last glare at the spirit who apparently had ceased to entertain her in any way, shape or form. Not that she was enjoying this, but it seemed like their host was a shade of his former self. Which gave Ururu a snort but no reprisal ever came forward from Hikaru for the lame joke or the pun. At least Kopaka allotted her a reason to roll her eyes, though hardly satisfying. Small universe and yet so quiet.

Her soul was far more silent than it ever been. Even before she had invented her cloning technique… her mind and body had been a wealth of activity, and now-

“Minato-sensei!” Someone yelled in the background amidst all the sheep willingly delivering vows that they’d help their abductor. Were so many people here power hungry or willingly blind to the fact that they were being used? Probably all for Omni’s benefit-

Wait a second, Ururu thought as her mind fell back to exactly what she had heard. There was no fucking way that could be what she just heard. Sure there were ‘ninja’ in the Omniverse. The number of worlds that had added their number to this place practically insured it but… out of everyone, everything. The number of those she respected could be counted on only a handful of fingers and only five of them were friends and family.

The others, well some of they were standing as a duo none too far from her. Hikaru and Ururu had often talked about what it would be like to actually meet respectable shinobi. Hours and days had gone by with them discussing if history stood up to real life. Here was a chance to do just that, to discover what they had gotten right and wrong in their attempt to uncover the true history of the Shinobi people.

Moving quickly, Ururu rose in single movement and pressed her who way through the various groups of people until she could clearly see the faces attached to the voice she had heard. “Yondaime Namikaze Minata-sama…!” Ururu choked out breathlessly before more words found their way past her oh so well-guarded her tongue and teeth, “Rokudaime Hatake Kakashi-sama…-”

She froze, had she really addressed two major historical figures in such a… low brow, fashion. Interrupting a conversation that could be years in the making? Where was her vow of being unbiased to history and not influencing her representation of such to the world at large? What secrets could she have gleaned had she not just-

Fuck that. They were also the two best chances for Ururu to recover Hikaru. If the spirit was really powerful enough she could use it to restore Hikaru and any damage that had been done due to severing the connection- maybe even protecting it from something similar from every happening again.

Hikaru came before anything else even her dedication to history and its’ secrets. Though as technical strangers she’d have to readjust how she approached the situation.

“Forgive me please Yondaime-sama, Rokudaime-sama.” Ururu rebounded into a much for formal dialect of language and quick but low bow to each, “In my enthusiasm I forgot myself.”

After taking a moment to actually look at the situation she noticed two important facts. The one who looked to be Hatake Kakashi was far younger than many of the pictures she had found of him. Second was Namikaze Minato’s sclera that really caught her off guard and possibly blew one of her biggest theories of the Omniverse out of the water. Omni didn’t pluck people out of their prime, or their most powerful point in life or not always as was the case here… twice over. If she had anything to go on it the was last words she picked up on the conversation. Asking about the Nanadama Hokage… but for Minato, if he hadn’t been abducted by Omni after his own impure resurrection… that meant.

The day he died?

Uncovering the truth about that day had been one of her biggest expeditions and dangerous. The decade after the Fourth’s death was one of the harshest blackouts of information in the era following the Third Great Shinobi War. Any article pertaining to Jinchuuriki was stricken from public records in accordance to the Yondaime Hokage’s law and subsequent laws from the Fourth Great Shinobi War regarding weapons of mass destruction meant researching such things was as illegal.

For the life of her, she never did manage to find out who the last host of Kyuubi was after Nanadaime Hokage or for that matter any of the others.

[Orihime Inoue]

Orihime wondered how long she was going to continue to fall, and more importantly what happened to Zabajin.

“Am I dead?” thought the girl melancholy. She kept falling down the pitch dark, black hole, at a speed that made her experience vertigo. This familiarity reminded her of the portals she would have to take to get from Karakura Town to The Soul Society. The only difference was before she knew she would come out the other side safely while here she only knew the potential impending doom of reaching the bottom. She didn’t know what was worse, the unbearable silence, the inevitable, potential bone-crushing impact, or the fear that she would be stuck here in an inescapable loop.

“Why does this always happen to me?” she moaned while peering her eyes for any sight of the ground.

It’s abrupt impact with the ground was as pleasant as Orihime expected, but not life threatening. The blunt force of the collision made her blackout, experiencing darkness all over again.

“Uuuhhragh” the red haired girl grunted, lazily opening her eyes to see her delicate hand on a smooth, pallid exterior. Bringing her long fingers into a fist, she thought back to her cell in Wackomundo. “”Did I ever leave? Was it all just a dream”” The disbelief that her entire wondrous adventure was only a facade she cooked up inside her mind made her weep. “No.” she whispered to herself, feeling bottled up emotions beginning to resurface. “Ichigo, No”

She found little motivation to pick herself off the ground and explore her surroundings. When she was finally on two feet she observed that this place was somewhere she had never been before. Looking around, she found herself in a temple of some sort, with marvelous marble columns and decorative ornamental plaster. Orihime approached a crystal blue pool in the center of the room graciously, looking at her reflection. She stroked her face tenderly with her hand and in a slight panic, she noticed all her scars, bumps and bruises from training with The troll Cheif Zabajin had vanished. The only piece of furniture that she could see in the room was a gorgeous statue of a Goddess. The goddess held a strong presence in this place, her eyes focusing on an invisible target.

“”Maybe I am dead?” she pondered, as she admired the stunning stone hero. Speaking to her now, she asked: “Is this heaven?”

“It is not” Out of nowhere a voice broke the silence and answered her, causing Orihime to jump out of her skin.

Spinning herself around at the speed of a level 5 tornado, she turned to face a ghostly presence of an old man. He told her that he needed her help and that he was the reason she was brought to this place. His story broke the young girl's heart as he filled her in on his misfortunate past and current predicament. She remembered back when she first helped a spirit cross over into The Soul Society. The Soul Society is an afterlife, otherwise known as a spirit world. Most souls dwell there until they are once again reincarnated into the human world. It resembled a paradise, where most times it's better than the world of the living problems like hunger isn’t. It was the first time that Orihime had seen the ritual of Soul Burial, it was something she would never forget for as long as she lived.

The girl was only six years old when a vehicle lost control and found its way onto the sidewalk that the girl walked on, killing her instantly. She was so scared and confused, not understanding that she no longer walked with the living. Spending years in a lost puzzled state, she spent all that time crying out to her mother. It was not until that fateful day where she crossed paths with her and Ichigo she would still be there. The crying attracted their attention first when they followed it back they saw her presence, hiding behind dumpster bins.

“Are you ok?” Ichigo asked tenderly, lowering himself to her level.

“I want my mommy.” the girl cried in between sobs.

Ichigo knew immediately that she was a spirit that needed help crossing over but it took Orihime a second to realize that she was, in fact, dead and in trouble.

“Where is your mommy?” cooed Orihime as she reached to stroke her hair, taken aback to find her hand went right through her.

“I” she stopped in between sobs “I don't know!” the girl exploding in uncontrollable wailing.

“Hey.” Ichigo purred, “It’s ok, don’t worry I am here to help” his smooth, buttery words instantly relieved the distraught child.

Then without a second thought, he helped her cross over into The Soul Society, her soul finally at rest.

She remembered how she gazed at Ichigo, in that moment she decided that she was in fact in love with him. It did not matter who you were if you were a good person and you needed help, Ichigo would be there. He would help no matter what the cost, even if it threatened his life. That was the person he was and that is who Orihime strived to be like. She thought about what Ichigo would do if he was here right now, listening to this spirit's plea for help. Knowing the answering immediately, she vowed: “I will help you. I don't know how much I can help, but I will do my best!”

The spirit seemed relieved to hear that she would help, as he approached closer to the artistic creation. A view of longing filled his tired eyes as he gazed upon the excellence of the ivory statue.

“Where do I start?” Orihime coaxed the troubled spirit.

[Amaterasu]

In Coruscant, near the portal that leads to the Nexus...

It was quite good timing from the spirit - or perhaps coincidence - that, just the instant that Amaterasu lifted her foot to step through the portal leading her back to the Nexus, the center of this universe she had landed in, was when she was summoned.

Out of nowhere, the ground just... disappeared, the Sun Goddess yelped as the sensation of falling overtook her and she plummeted into the black void. How strange, this isn't how it felt when we got here... she thought after the initial shock and flipped herself forward so that she was falling by her belly downwards. Maybe that was because she had been in that transport vehicle on their way to Coruscant? Or did those portals function differently? She continued to fall, oddly enough not feeling afraid at all, until out of a sudden the void opened up into a white surface. Amaterasu reflexively lifted her hands to guard her face from the impact, but as opposed to hitting it hard she just... landed on it. No pain, no injuries, not even a scratch on her forearms. After recovering from the initial shock she pushed herself to her feet. This isn't the Nexus, is it? Maybe the portal didn't lead me back to where I wanted to go then? It was then that she spotted the ghostly figure near her, and the temple-like structures all around her, including the statue. As she dusted herself off a bit she listened to the spirit who introduced himself to her and explained that she had been chosen.

"Valiance and honor as a fighter?" She asked and gave the spirit a warming smile. "Surely there are better warriors suited to this task, Hero Teucer. But that is not to say that I wish not to help you... quite the opposite. No spirit should have to live in unrest. I shall aid you in retrieving these relics if that is what is needed to bring peace to your soul, and allow you to pass into the afterlife." What she did not say was that the relic the spirit was promising her as a gift were not interesting her much. Neither the spirit nor the statue behind him looked like people from her homelands, thus it was unlikely that he was in the possession of her Reflector or the Blade of Kusanagi. Lost in thought like that she only just noticed that there were others there, other individuals which she presumed were who the spirit had spoken of as recruits. Of course... she would not be going alone through this.

It was only then that she noticed that her Yasakani no Magatama were missing. Attempting to recall them or summon them did not yield any results either, as she noticed when attempting either, but the two golden ink pots were still by her waist. So Tachigami is still with me, huh... his Power Slash will be of great aid if my prayer beads are gone, she thought to herself. She'd worry about those later, for now she would have to speak to the others to see if she could find any individual with similar goals to herself, someone she could ally with. But first, she turned to the spirit.

"I would have a number of questions if you can spare me the time, Hero Teucer." She adressed the spirit whilst approaching him - though if he made any indication that he wanted her to stay away she would stop in her tracks. "First... suppose that any of those that came here were to die - would the same curse befall us that is keeping you in this plane? Would we be unable to move into the afterli- oh, I mean... would we reincarnate, I believe that's what I was told that would happen around here?
Second... I suppose that there is no way you have not already tried, but could your spirit be sent to the afterlife without the relics you ask of us to collect?" She put a hand on her chest as she explained. "Having hunted oni for a long time I am familiar with exorcism techniques, I could attempt to sever you from this world if that individual - Warlock you named him I believe? - did not use magic stronger than mine.
Third... why is it you were cursed, of all people? Did this Warlock hold a grudge against you, or was there perhaps... a reason you wish not to share?" As she asked this her face momentarily turned serious. She was attempting to get a reaction from the spirit - who said that he was not lying to her? He could just as well be a dark beast who needed the relics to recover its full power. If it were such, surely a hesitation in his voice, a scrambling for words or even just a momentary twitch of his eye would reveal the truth. But then the sunny smile returned to her face as she voiced her fourth question.
"And lastly, this is for more... personal benefits, I admit. Did the night sky happen to lighten up with a number of unusually bright stars recently, perhaps in a cluster even? Or perhaps as you are a spirit, might you have felt any strong spiritual presence in the sky recently?" Could it be that one of the Celestial Spirits was waiting for her here?

Just to prevent confusion: the "golden ink pots" are fluff, they represent Amaterasu's SP.

Translations:
Oni = demon(s)

[The Spirit]

The Spirit held in an internal groan. It seemed almost not a single person he had brought to free him trusted him...He would be trapped in this hall forever. He may as well called in any random person and should have expected the same results. Maybe the millennia of imprisonment has made his mind go numb and the quality of his selection has vastly decrease. Or maybe it was just the kids of the time, yes it is the heroes who have lost their touch! He would never find some fit for this quest. He had to be polite though, maybe one of these...heroes could free his soul.

"Unless the Warlock magically revives again and manages to bind your soul to another item, it is safe to say you will reincarnate. It is only my soul that has been bound to this place." Teucer raised an eyebrow after hearing the primes experiences with demons.

"While I do appreciate the offer, my soul is physically bound to those pieces of armor. I don't know what would happen if you were to sever my connection, and I am not willing to find out. Warlocks do serve demons, or oni as you choose to call them. Perhaps it was in an effort to prevent me from stopping his rampage. I do not fully know his intentions. As for your last question, I cannot see the Night sky nor feel its presence as you believe I may do. There has been many strange occurrences going on lately if that might peak your interest."

With a sigh the spirit returned to his place to continue to look for primes...hopefully useful primes.

[Okor]

With a multi-coloured flash, the last glob of sludge settled into place, and the oversize form of Okor was remade here, his pestilential presence tainting these hallowed halls.With an annoyed grunt, he thrust himself forward from his kneeling position, despising the thought that he might be showing deference to this... grouping. Whispers of warlocks and relics rattled within his rotten skull, emanating from the ghastly wight hovering in the center of this temple to false gods. He cast his gaze over the other primes gathered to this farce, pulled to this strange 'verse to compete for the hope of an artifact.

It was that damnable abyss all over again. A melting pot of fresh primes, thrown in as chum to the vicious veterans. Back then, The Legions stood united, facing off against misfits from a profusion of worlds. But now...

He stood at the forefront of the ragtag horde. His claw fished through his tabard for a symbol of the institute as he looked upon what he had to work with.

A scarlet-haired woman, her attire decidedly primitive, laid against a mural-covered wall, a blazing ring of crimson light hanging over her head, like a sword of Damocles promising hellfire should it sense weakness. Brutal scars marred the skin not covered by the rags, the lash of the whip familiar to any who spent time around the forces of Chaos. Some kind of slave, perhaps? So long as their will was unbroken, they would be of use.

A small, blond child. Was this 'Teucuer' mad, taking a yout- Wait. He had seen that child before, on the way to the Arena. There were two of them last time. They had summoned some Daemon engine of stone to carry them through the skies. What kind of magic powered that small form? He would prefer a proper warrior, but they could make a powerful, if unpredictable asset while they lasted.

One tall figure, clad in a black storm cloak, adorned with armour, and with an arm terminating in some kind of mechanism. Something was wrong, though. Too-flat surfaces, as if he was bolted together from sheets of steel and daubed with appropriate colours. A cape hung from steel-clad shoulders, indicating some kind of status.

Some youth, seemingly playing at war, crimson armour covering the slight figure. An orange cape hung from slim shoulders, making it clear just how juvenile this arrival was. How did they get sele- No. No, this was an attempt to apply sanity to this world. If there was anything he had learned from this realm, it was that nothing could be taken for granted. What of Weiss? They were easily one of the most impressive warriors he had witnessed, and they were scarcely older than this child. They would need to be watched.

Victor, Gods-Damned, Wolfe. He swallowed the surge of corrosive bile that accompanied the appearance of the accursed brat, the sizzling saliva burning its way down his tumour-laden throat. Wherever they walked, they brought shame. He let his crimson gaze fall on them for a moment longer, moving it away as he silently wished for a brief and messy end to the bastard.

Many of the others passed in a blur. A Robe-clad woman, a damned mouse, a profusion of lightly armoured sneaks, and one machine of some kind. It was a motley band of primes, drawn together to die. Damn it all. He had nothing more than the rejects, the mutants, the outcasts to work with.

A black grin spread underneath his decrepit helmet.The Lost and the Damned. The misfits, the desperate hordes that made up the bulk of the forces of Chaos. His flock.

He pulled an Onyx shield from his tabard, holding the black symbol up, the gilded gem reflecting the fire’s light across the walls, strange shadows splaying themselves across the masonry, forming mind-twisting patterns without corresponding shapes to cast them.

“Institute. Assemble.”

[Amaterasu]

Amaterasu bowed her head at the spirit. "Forgive my intrusive words, Hero Teucer. I was merely assuring myself that your intentions are honest. I promise you that I shall do what lies within my power to retrieve these items you seek, or help another of the people here to it." She bowed deeply, then eyed the statue for a moment. She was about to ask what land the spirit hailed from when she noticed that he was gone again, and sighed. He must have been stuck here for a lengthy period of time, having lost his hope like this... he must be very sad. She wished that she could summon items here, a bowl with offerings or an essence to soothe his ancient conscience, if only for a time. For now, all she could do was to bow her head before the statue, close her eyes, place her hands together and mutter a short prayer, then stand there without moving for a minute or so. She prayed mostly for the tormented spirit, but also for the many soldiers that had found their deaths in this place if she understood right what the spirit told her.

Note:From here on most Primes will just see Amaterasu gazing into the lake with her eyes reflecting complete blackness, stuck in a trance and not reacting to approaches. It takes some five minutes for her to exit that trance. The Spirit and Primes with the ability to see invisible spirits and such may see what Amaterasu sees though. It's pure fluff in any case, nothing to do with the actual Graveyard event!

When she opened her eyes, her gaze fell onto the lake surface, and she noticed that there was an opening in the ceiling of the temple that she hadn't noticed. Or had it really been there? She could see the night sky through it, and... Another celestial formation? Wait, is this... Yes, it was. Kazegami, the kami of the Celestial Brush technique Galestorm. She could doubtlessly recognize him by the formation of the stars. She reached out and took a hold of her hair brush, then raised it to the sky and drew the lines, just like she had done in Coruscant. How long had that been ago, twenty, thirty minutes at most? It felt like it had been longer...

As the drawing was completed it sprung to life, and just like before the world turned white. Amaterasu laughed as Kazegami, the mighty white horse, erupted from the stars and galloped through the world like the wind, with her running behind him effortlessly. Where they ran, it did not matter, Kazegami enjoyed the freedom to move his legs once more and Amaterasu allowed his joy to overtake her too.
"Mother Amaterasu, it is good to see you once more. I was sealed in the firmament of this strange place with no clue to when I would get to move my feet again!" Kazegami spoke with joy as they ran without showing any sign of tiring.
"Kaze, you know as well as I that I would not forsake you. I have already freed Tachi, he told me about you and the others... it appears that upon my arrival in this place, the Omniverse, you were all torn from me and scattered across the world once more, just like in Nippon."
"I see... how curious indeed. But I am now reunited with you." He slowed his step a bit and lowered his head. "I also bear ill news however... my powers are weak here. I can accompaign you, but I cannot aid you as I could in Nippon. There is a powerful dark aura lingering over this world, and it holds me back."
"The spirit inhabiting this world has mentioned an evil man, Warlock was his name, who has cursed him and likely cursed these lands as well. It must be his power that is keeping you back. I do not even have my black ink with me, and I cannot summon more."
"It might indeed be so, Mother Amaterasu. I certainly hope that I do not become a useless burden for you to carry."
Amaterasu stopped short, but then laughed when she noticed how Kazegami was grinning at her. "You don't joke about such things, Kaze! You know exactly that I would never consider you or your siblings to be burdens. Besides, there are other places beyond this one, where Warlock's magic is not reaching. You will be of great help to me there."
"I shall do my best, Mother Amaterasu. For now, I shall travel with you." And like Tachigami, Kazegami turned into a number of orbs with kanji symbols on them which flew into Amaterasu's body, following which the world became black, then returned to reality.

Amaterasu's trance ends here.

The Sun Goddess abruptly snapped out of her trance and stumbled back several steps, away from the pool of water which now showed no celestial reflection anymore. However the initial stumbling caused her to trip over one of the ornate inscriptions on the marble ground and nearly lose her balance, stumbling even further until she bumped into Somerled, which luckily stopped her. Once she had recovered she turned around and faced the stranger, bowing to him. "Pardon that, I lost my balance... thanks for stopping me, I hope I didn't cause any trouble?" Due to the man's lengthy hair, his position not facing her and his modern-day clothing she didn't notice his asian looks at first glance, though she might if he turned to face her.

[The Spirit]

The Spirit smiled at the red-haired girl and smiled. He did indeed forget there were a couple good souls here and that he did pick some competent people. He got up from his position and attempted to put his hand on her soldier, his wispy hand passing through her body.

"Once I assemble enough hero's I can manage to spread you across the Island to go and find these relics. I'll try and give you a weapon that may assist you in any way to defeat the guardians. I appreciate your kind heart and your soft soul. It would likely be wise to find some allies for I cannot assist you beyond this temple."

The spirit smiled and his burden seemed somewhat lighter knowing that he did indeed choose people that would help him in this quest.

[Kopaka]

Kopaka lingered for a minute or two more before turning on his heel and marching away from the central area of the temple. Perhaps he may have gleaned more if he stayed, but from the sounds of things, everyone was just as confused as he was. That was fine; he trusted his own assessment of any given situation above anyone else's, and unlike the Omniverse proper, he was certain that no one here could claim to be an expert on this land...aside from the enigmatic spirit itself. Kopaka did not, however, trust this spectral 'hero' to almost any extent. If he had deigned to unceremoniously pull them to his personal mortuary, unbidden, he was just as selfish and inconsiderate as Omni himself.

After walking a short distance, Kopaka came to one of the large doors that was shrouded in a thick bank of fog. The Toa hesitated at the threshold of the gateway for a moment before attempting to pass through. He was startled, however, when he found his advance halted by a soft, pillow wall of force. It was odd that Teucer would keep them all corralled in this tomb of his while also asking them to search an island for artifacts of power. What was the spirit waiting for? Perhaps there were more Primes yet to come. In that case, Kopaka would have to find answers within the temple itself. The biomech called upon the Kanohi Akaku, causing the white mask to flare with a cool light. Imagine the Toa's surprised when the supposedly all-seeing eyes of the Akaku were unable to penetrate either the thick marble walls or even the solidified fog that forbade his progress. Scowling, Kopaka held his hand up directly in front of his face, but even then, the Akaku could not pierce through the obfuscating appendage. By what right did this universe claim to deny the power of the Kanohi yet again? It had been bad enough learning that the Akaku was already limited in its range, but in this deeper hell, it was entirely non-functional.

Kopaka was tempted to run diagnostics on which other of his Kanohi had been crippled, but thought it better no to in the interest of keeping his abilities, limited or otherwise, a secret from these other abductees. Teucer had not explicitly stated that the Primes collected here were to compete against each other, but that would not mean that such a thing would not occur. The promise of power and freedom was a heady tonic to try and resist, and though the Toa would prefer to work alongside a partner or two, he could not himself deny that he would put himself before these others. After all, his Duty was to people who could not protect themselves, and gauging from the myriad begins assembled, that would not be a concern for a majority of them. Suddenly, another troubling detail was brought to the biotech's attention. A small indicator within his HUD began flashing, letting Kopaka know that his atmospheric nutrient synthesizers were offline. A quick internal scan revealed that the components were indeed still intact; they had simply ceased to function.

Luckily, Bionicles such as he did indeed have a back-up system for such an occurrence. If necessary, they could activate one of their biological components to be able to derive nutrients and other sustenance from consumed biomass. Based on his passing examination of the other biologicals that he had so far encountered, they too had a similar functionality. In fact, biomass intake, for the most part, seemed to be their only way of sustaining their organic bodies. It was structural flaw that, under normal circumstances, Kopaka may have been able to take advantage of, but as it was, that particular playing field had been leveled. A long, rattling breath escaped the Toa's concealed mouth, causing a plume of cooled air to wisp into the comparatively warm atmosphere of the temple. The logic and explanations behind any of these mysterious disabilities were likely to be as arcane as they were evasive, but again, Kopaka did not expect Teucer to give any reliable answers.

All that remained was to be patient until such a time as he and the others were released into the wilds. In the mean time, Kopaka contented himself to lean against one of the carven, marble reliefs next to the north gate and wait, staring towards the center of the temple.

[Orihime Inoue]

It took a moment to realize that she was not alone in this palace. Several other people filled the outer temple, some keeping to themselves and others joined in the conversation. The unfortunate captive did say he was searching for heroes to help release him from a warlock's curse, these must be other primes like her. The troll Chief Zabajin had told her once that Orihime was prime and that there were other primes like her all over this universe. Remembering the look of frustrating disappointment when she asked him if he was a prime buried deep in her memory. Peering around the room, she thought Why are there not any soul reapers here? She could not help but feel an incredible yearning to see the familiar black Kimono that the soul reapers wore.

A women sat on a bench, relaxing with her eyes closed, while what appeared to be a distressed child-paced the room frantically. It was apparent that some people did not agree with the spirit plucking them from wherever they were while others were relieved to be somewhere different. Orihime did not know how she felt, only that hopefully the weapon she would receive will be enough to actually make a difference for the fallen hero.

She saw two people deep in conversation it was obvious that why were comrades. One of them had striking blue eyes and golden hair that framed his handsome face. He was in discussion with another equally handsome man, with silvery hair and piercing eyes. By how they were dressed, reminded her of people she once knew, having the appearance of skilled warriors. Those people most closely resembled themselves as soul reapers or someone like Yoruichi who was the Corps-Commander of the Executive Militia in the Soul Society.

In another part of the room, she saw a young man in what appeared to be a heated conversation with someone else. One of the men had eccentric green hair and long sharp ears that made him look like an elf. The spectacle reminded her of the way that Ichigo used to argue with Rengi, another soul reaper. They would argue about pretty much anything and everything. Thinking back to a time whether or not they should go left or right during a hot pursuit put a sweet smile on her face. She thought that they, like Ichigo and Rengi were just friendly rivals, but judging by the scene unfolding they were not. Maybe they were friends at one time? Orihime wondered to herself, already thinking of ways to help heal their friendship. But in any case, they could be straight enemies which would be a situation that Orihime did not want to get mixed up in.

A man wearing vibrant red armor that discernibly contrasted his blue shades, as well as his dark gray full body suit, was also in the room. He wore a stylish helmet and a long flowing yellow scarf. His dark shades made him appear mysterious and the fact that he seemed to be attempting to contact someone only intensified her feelings. He seems like someone important Orihime thought as he resembled some sort of comic book hero to her.

Her eyes finally landed on the small figure of a mouse.

“No way,” she whispered to herself. “It can’t be.” standing in the room with everyone else was Mickey Mouse himself. It was the craziest thing she had ever seen and she had seen some stuff. She grew up with her brother watching Disney movies, and a moving sensation filled her. How long has it been since she watched a movie? She could not remember and it made her homesick. I wonder if Snow White is here? speaking to herself while scanning the room. Thinking more on the subject made her realize that Snow White would be as useful as poor Orihime in this quest. She and her brother had even gone to Florida when she was a little girl and she thought back to the autograph he signed for her, his soft white gloves surrounding her in a loving embrace. Remembering her family and her life before brought a small tear in her eye. She really did not recognize anyone else in the room, grateful to seen a familiar face.

[Albert Wesker]

Not everyone was so willing to accept the situation at hand and help this 'Teucer'. Understandable enough. Even Colonel himself was somewhat less than pleased with the manner he'd been brought here and 'asked' for his assistance. But given the predicament the entrapped phantom was in, he supposed it was only natural. Desperate times called for desperate measures. There was every chance that until now there had been no opportunity whatsoever at even a chance for freedom. With all the other ways in which the strange, twisted physics of this Omniverse had toyed with everything taken to be 'normal'...

It wasn't such a stretch of the imagination.

His brief surface examination of the others that had arrived left him less than impressed. Not many of them looked like much on the surface. Judging a book by its cover was a good way to wind up in a poor spot, as past experience had taught him. Megaman hadn't looked like much on the surface, but he was something special past that unimpressive outer appearance.

How many of these otherwise unassuming folk might be the same?

He observed for a moment the few who spoke directly to the spirit himself, trying to gain some measure of what they might be planning in this sorry situation by their words and bearing. But he might as well have been trying to read battle plans off a blank wall.

The mask of careful, patient neutrality didn't betray his frustration at the entire scene, nor did it let even a glimmer of surprise at the...he almost hesitated to call it a voice that resounded through the relative quiet of the scene. It was more what was said that what it sounded like that drew his focus. Zeroing in on the speaker, his faintly luminous gaze falling upon the towering form of something...clad in a mass of what might generously be called armor. The insignia born on the shield he held up upon speaking — Colonel was familiar with it. The Institute. Another one lending their skills to Nealaphh, here of all places.

Whether it was fortune or sheer happenstance, it was hard to tell.

Whatever the reason, informing the behemoth of their shared organizational ties could hardly be a negative decision. Such was his chief thought as he strode across the marble floors, heavy footfalls resounding with a metallic clink, clang as he went. "Judging by that symbol you've got there, it seems we're part of the same organization." Straight and to the point, he wasted no excess words as he reached easy speaking distance with the insignia-bearing...man.

The arm normally bearing his saber raised up, crossed over his chest toward the opposite shoulder, rising up in a blur, closed fist pointed toward the sky: a salute. "Colonel. Vice-Dean of the Security Branch. Reporting."

[Orihime Inoue]

There was someone in the room that made Orihime very uneasy. It puzzled Orihime that it would be summoned here as a hero. In the corner was something not human, at least not human anymore. Its flesh appeared bonded to its rotten and decayed body, his abdomen and arm were exposing infection to the core of his bones. How could this waking disease covered skeleton ever once be human? Maybe he wasn’t. He had a horn that protruded from the center of his head that was broken and twisted. His being resembled that of a hollow to Orihime. Hollows are a race of creatures which are born from human souls, who for various reasons, did not cross over to the Soul Society after their death. They are corrupt spirits with supernatural powers which devour the souls of both living and deceased humans. Once a soul becomes a Hollow, it is driven by an eternal and insatiable hunger to consume other souls, becoming mindless creatures. This armored monstrosity in the temple did not have an appearance of a hollow, but she knew that they varied in size and looks. One thing Orihime knew for sure was that this so-called warrior was dangerous and that she should avoid him or return him like she did with Hallow’s in the human world.

She heard a voice inside her say But some Hollows can be saved, knowing that to be true she sighed sadly. Her brother had turned prey to turning into a monster and if it had not been for Ichigo, her brother would have certainly devoured her. As much as she would love to help everyone, she could not handle this guy on her own, not without someone like her long lost love.

But then there were people here that appeared to be wondrous and magical, like a young girl adorned with fox-like ears. She wore a traditional red robe with large sleeves and had a curvaceous body, something the two had in common. Her red tattoos brought back the vision on Rengi again who also had tattoos, his on his forehead. Her hair gleamed and sparkled in the reflection of the blessing pool. Perhaps she was a princess of some kind? She had the appearance of being of noble importance. Maybe this girl could help Orihime on this quest.

Looking at everyone else in the room she saw a tall older gentleman, a blond haired man, some people who appeared to be made out of android material and a girl dressed like a flight attendant. Orihime was curious to know how this whole thing would turn out. She knew absolutely no one and for the first time ever, she longed to return to the ice valley with her troll friend Zabajin.

Orihime made herself as small as possible and turned away from everyone else. She felt like this was a waiting room of destruction and chaos and at any moment something terrible would happen. She was half tempted to put up her Santen Keshun and hide behind the protection of her shield, but something deep down inside herself told her that would not work here.

“I guess I really am alone this time,” She spoke softly, closing her eyes and waiting for this all to be over.

[Proto Man]

For what it was worth, Proto Man wasn’t angry with the stranger who had technically kidnapped him.

“You could have just asked me, you know?” He said as the being took a reprieve from responding to angrier accusations. “I always like to help,” he added before smiling beneath his visor and walking to a quieter part of the temple. Once a little removed from the group, he turned on his scanner and surveyed the others. As he glanced from one person to another, the information went straight into his databanks in case he needed it for later.

How many of these people were murderers?

If the youth had to guess, he’d say somewhere over fifty percent. As more primes began to filter into the temple, Proto Man started to see faces he recognized from Dante’s Abyss. What would happen if this quest turned into some sort of competition to collect whatever artifacts that the disembodied figure spoke about? How many of the other men and women here would even think before knifing one of their peers in the back for a parcel of omnilium or the promise of bountiful amounts of the strange, potent substance?

As Proto Man started to slid down a dangerous road, he caught a familiar sight—the bobbing ears and nervous expression of Mickey Mouse. The robot didn’t move to speak with his ally, knowing that he’d have all the time in the world to shoot the breeze in a little bit.

And it might not hurt to play it cool with our friendship.

That was such a cynical thought, but in foreign land, Proto Man knew he’d have to play it smart to keep a knife out of his lower back.

In the corner of the temple, a woman leaned against one of the pillars. At first glance, she seemed unremarkable—a warrior dressed in leather armor that made it hard to pinpoint where she may have been pulled from history. Leather armor like that usually meant history books, but who’s to say she’s not from some wasteland brought about by some universe’s apocalypse? Or maybe leather is just back in fashion?

What really interested the preteen machine was the woman’s crimson halo, which floated in place above her head of red hair.

Crossing the distance between himself and the woman, Proto Man looked up at her and pointed to the halo.

“Are you an angel?”

The woman snickered and pushed away from the pillar. “If you were ten years and three feet taller, that still might qualify for one of the worst come-on lines I’ve heard.”

“That’s not an answer,” Proto Man responded, oblivious the meaning of the woman’s remark.

“Opposite of that,” she finally answered after realizing that he wasn’t a hormonal teenager.

It took Proto Man a moment to deduce what she had said. “You don’t look like a demon.”

“Underverse. I guess our friend over there has a little more strength than he lets on,” she said as she glanced over toward Teucer and the other primes. “This’ll be real interesting if those artifacts have any real power. How many of those people do you think would really part with stuff like that?”

Having pondered a similar question earlier, Proto Man felt the scowl return to his face. “I’m Blues,” he remarked, extending a hand toward the woman. “Should I call you Demon?”

“Trixie.” After shaking hands with the preteen, the woman glanced around and then set her eyes back onto her new acquaintance. “Why’d he pick you? What makes you special?”

Proto Man lifted a hand, but when he tried to summon his Proto Buster, nothing happened. A textbox on his screen provided him with nothing more informational than ‘Unknown Error’. A quick glance revealed that most of his weapon systems were offline.

“Well that’s uncalled for,” he muttered to himself as he lowered his hand and looked back up at the leather-clad woman. “I’ve been around a few times,” he spoke to her as a smile spread across his lips. In her mind, Trixie had to remind herself that her new little friend wasn’t adding an adult connotation to the phrase. “Saved some towns, killed some bad guys… the usual. What about you? What’s the Underverse like? Have you seen this guy named Gilgamesh? He’s a jerk.”

[Mickey Mouse]

It quickly became clear to Mickey Mouse that he had not been the only prime kidnapped and brought to this mysterious temple.

First and foremost, the former King surmised that Blues must be around here somewhere. After all, the boy had disappeared into thin air mere seconds before he, too, was whisked away, so the natural conclusion was that they’d been brought to the same place. As it was, though, so many people had crowded into this temple that, however vast it may have been, looking for one single person was comparable to trying to find a needle in a haystack.

The mouse could be certain of one thing, though. For the most part, the abducted primes did not seem to be satisfied with their new homes. Sure, some of them made the best of the unfortunate situation; some of them, it seemed, even shared Mickey’s willingness to help the guy out as they became more aware of his dire situation. But most of them—or the loudest of them, at the very least—did not seem to be incredibly willing to help this poor fella out. They would require a little more convincing than the Keyblade wielder had, it appeared.

“It’s no big thing,” Mickey said, turning to Teucer. “I wish you woulda asked nicer, but there’s no reason not to help out.” His voice didn’t carry very far, thanks to the residual pain of impact from his fall, but the Spirit heard him, at least.

And, apparently, at least the few people surrounding him. “Oh, it’s totally a big thing, and there are totally reasons not to help out.”

Mickey paid no mind to the worrywart. Whoever they were, they had so much negative energy exuding off of them that the mouse couldn’t help but find them a little bit pathetic. And when an anthropomorphic mouse finds you pathetic, well…

Oh well, Mickey shrugged. At the end of the day, the spirit should’ve known that he would only need one hero—albeit, one very skilled hero—to retrieve his stuff. The mouse couldn’t wrap his ears around why the guy had called all these whiny so-called “heroes” to retrieve his stuff when he and Blues were perfectly capable. After all, they’d just finished absolutely wrecking an evil regime situated in the middle of the desert. And Mickey still had the earrings… really and truly, Proto Mouse probably could’ve handled this job all on his own.

Of course, the mouse had sort of grown weary of sharing a body with Blues. Not that the kid wasn’t awesome, but he really did like his own, separate self. The power that being Proto Mouse offered him—offered both of them, really—was just too tempting. Mickey didn’t like spending a lot of time flirting with it.

At that precise moment, however, the crowd parted just enough for Mickey to catch a glimpse of red between the many bodies that pushed through the room.

“Blues?”

The mouse began to push through the crowd, bobbing and weaving through the legs of taller, less desirable company as he approached the flash of familiar color. Bodies moved through the vast main hall of the temple, sliding in and out of his way as he attempted to get back to his newest friend here in the Omniverse. They had only been apart for so long, but certainly they had a lot to discuss. The other primes, however, seemed subconsciously determined to deter them from reuniting with one another.

Gradually, he lost track of the figure, but he kept maneuvering through the crowd anyway, trying to make it to where Blues had been, until—

“Owwwwwww.”

The mouse’s tiny butt hit the floor. He had fallen on the ground too many times already for one afternoon.

He looked up, a little dazed, to see the familiar flash of red. However, it seemed… less familiar now that he’d made it up close to her. That’s right: her. The figure he’d seen in the distance had not, in fact, been Proto Man, but instead a young girl (still much, much taller than him) with striking red hair.

Mickey’s eyes traveled from the girl’s face to the gap between her knees, through which he could spy the actual, real-life Proto Man just a little ways off. The preteen machine seemed engaged in conversation with a… well, to put it mildly, a really creepy-lookin’ gal. Blues turned around, and the mouse thought that for a second his eyes registered his buddy, but then he turned back and continued to converse with his own new acquaintance. Strange, the King thought, that his friend wouldn’t immediately drop his conversation to come debrief about all this with the mouse.

“Uhm,” he squeaked, looking up at his new acquaintance, “…sorry for, uh… I thought you were someone else.”

“A ghost… and a talking mouse,” the girl exclaimed, a little struck by her surroundings.

“Yeah, I suppose that is a bit strange,” Mickey nodded, despite the fact that he really could not see why everyone made such a huge deal about it. In that moment, the tiny mouse realized why Proto Man had shied away from rushing over and greeting him like an old friend—this environment was new, and as they had seen all too much recently, any new environment was also a potentially hostile environment. And being a talking, anthropomorphic mouse and a teenage robot attracted enough attention as it was; best not complicate it by immediately hugging it out.

There would be time later for hugs, he hoped.

“Anyway, I’m Mickey,” he introduced himself, standing and holding out a gloved hand. For a few moments, the girl just stared.

“You shake it,” he instructed her. “Isn’t this a human thing?”

“Uh. Yeah,” she reached out and grasped his hand. “Belle.”

“Nice to meet ya, Belle!”

[Clownpiece]

The spirit had now wandered off, perhaps to greet new people to aid him, leaving Somerled back with his own thoughts. Somewhere in his mind, the weather spirit knew he should probably calm his shit, as running into this all pumped up on anticipation was bound to get him killed. Of course, this shining, reasonable part of his mind was hidden by a great dark stormcloud of complete and utter elation. If he had been able to actually voice any of the myriad of thoughts rambling about his mind at warp speed, then he would have been the biggest motormouth the world could have ever seen. As it was, however, his vocalization was purely body language, and he shook like a hypothermic chihuahua.

Storms always die, and the one blocking his reason was no exception. Warmth bumped into his back, causing his vision to shift forward suddenly and unexpectedly. Somerled’s foot shot out, slamming into the ground much harder than he meant for it to, and his vision ceased its swaying. His mind raced for possibilities. Was a bump like that an attack, like a full on tackle? Simply a trip? Not paying attention?

"Pardon that, I lost my balance... thanks for stopping me, I hope I didn't cause any trouble?"

A polite voice reached Somerled’s ears as he spun on his heels, quickly facing the one who bounced off his back. His eyes met, the bowed form of a wolf woman? Who also appeared to be dressed in something similar to a shrine maiden’s garb. Her unexpected appearances left the monster staring blankly, which did not change upon her rising out of her apologetic bow. In fact, that may have made everything worse, as the red markings across her form now became readily apparent to him.

“Um...” was all he managed to eke out at first. He thought that he, being a monster that had lived to the information era, who had met, killed, and eaten many weird things in his life, would have been a lot more prepared for the strange things he would see here. He had thought oh so wrong. “It was no trouble at all.” Unsure of exactly how to best react to this, Somerled defaulted to ‘extremely polite,’ a friendly smile on his face, though perhaps too late for the shift to seem ‘natural.’

He bowed deeply, knowing his posture was stale from far too much time away from Japan, but hoping that this would suffice anyway. Hell, at this point, he wasn’t even sure this was the proper way to introduce yourself. “Hello, my name is Somerled Murdoch. Pleased to meet you.”

[Kakashi Hatake]

Kakashi stood in shock as Minato Namikaze strode forward, beaming. He looked as lively and kind as he always had, adorn in the same garb he had worn during his tenure as the Fourth Hokage. The masked ninja could hardly believe his eyes. It had been over a decade since he had heard the news of his sensei passing, valiantly defending the citizens of Konoha from the Kyūbi. Following his father’s death and the incident at Kannabi bridge, Minato had been the one person that had made Kakashi feel like anything more than a tool. He had kept him as his side, appointing the youth as his personal bodyguard. Kakashi had watched over his wife, Kushina, during pregnancy, ensuring that Minato’s son would come safely into the world. What Kakashi could not do, however, was save his sensei’s life. On the order of the Third Hokage, he would stay behind.

“Kakashi, how is Naruto?”

Jarred from his awe, the scarecrow thought for a moment. Truthfully, Kakashi had not spent a great deal of time within the village’s walls since his assignment to captain. The Third had appointed his own personal guard when he took office once more, nominating Kakashi to his current role as head of Team Ro. In this capacity he lead many missions, most lasting for weeks before he would return home. What he did see of the boy, however, was not promising. Naruto had become an outcast, shouldering the burden of jinchūriki and taking on the blame of the village for the passing of his father. Confused and angry, he acted out.

“Um...he’s a handful,” Kakashi replied sheepishly, half-shrugging.

“Just like Kushina,” Minato laughed softly, shaking his head.

“Sensei, what happened with the Kyūbi?” He had so many questions for his former teacher. Much of the detail of what happened that night was pure conjecture. Kakashi acknowledged that asking such a question was a tad presumptuous, but he didn’t care. Though he had grown up in the late Hokage’s shadow, Kakashi was now nearly his age. Old enough to hear the truth.

“Yondaime Namikaze Minato-sama…! Rokudaime Hatake Kakashi-sama…!”

Before Minato could form a reply, a young girl raced into view, breathless and barely coherent. She look to be, if Kakashi were to guess, just approaching teenage years. Something about her, though, was off; he couldn’t put his finger on it. Her clothing was plain, as was the light brown hair that fell in a long braid down her back. Whatever the case, the thought of someone as young as her winding up in this temple, faced with such imminent danger, made the shinobi a bit uncomfortable. He had to remind himself, however, that in the shinobi world children her age would have already killed for their village. He, himself, had already become Jonin before his teens. Such was the life of a weapon.

“Forgive me please Yondaime-sama, Rokudaime-sama.” The youth sputtered, offering apologies before the duo could utter a word. “In my enthusiasm I forgot myself.”

“Uh, hello.” Minato replied, chuckling sheepishly. “It’s alright, don’t worry about it.”

“I’m sorry,” Kakashi said, tilting his head inquisitively. “But who are you, and why do you keep calling me ‘Sixth’?”