In a pink blur moving faster than the eye could see, Kirby cannoned into the great, withered tree, sending splinters of wood flying in every direction. So potent was the force that sent him flying that he remained stuck in the resulting crater for a full second before rolling out and plopping down among the roots on the ground below. After wiping away unbidden tears, he pushed himself to his feet and stared out with a glare of determination at the enemies arrayed before him.

Were Kirby capable of counting he would have taken a tally of eleven. He recognized only one of them, though at first he thought another familiar, but only a few seconds of battle had convinced him that none were or would ever be his friends. Their eyes gleamed with the red fire of a blazing sunset, full of malice, and their bodies appeared burnt, black as soot. These monsters did not distress him, for Kirby remembered facing far worse. But then what was this feeling inside him, sharp and horrible? Surely they weren't that strong...?

As one the enemy moved forward. A solitary puppet among them remained motionless, standing back as the horde rushed on. It raised its arm, and with empty scarlet eyes unleashed a brilliant beam of energy at the pink puffball before him. Kirby threw himself to the side, bouncing on his head in a cartwheel-like maneuver before landing on his feet, and the first of his foes were upon him. One swung two scythes with blistering speed, forcing Kirby to dip and dodge out of the way lest he be skewered. After a few seconds the aggressor executed a spinning slash, combining both weapons into one, and Kirby leaped to avoid the massive sweep only to take a body knee to the face.

Though the puff cried out in pain, he could not react before his big-eared attacker launched into a vertical spinning attack with his heavy metal wrench, pounding its end across Kirby's forehead and bunting him downward into the scythe-wielder's second sweep. It caught Kirby and flung him away, but before he met his end on the cleaver-blade of the behatted fighter meant to receive him, the puff pulled out a hammer and smashed it into his would-be slaughterer's face, crushing bone and sending its cap flying.

Kirby landed the next moment, glad he could get at least one hit in. However, the cleaver-wielder jumped back and slammed something into his leg, and without delay the egregious wound dealt to him healed in the blink of an eye. Out of time to gawk, Kirby threw away his disappointment and jumped up to evade the charge of an armored swordsman. Spinning midair, he delivered a trio of kicks to the warrior's helmet, only for the fighter to snatch him from the sky with its off-hand, punch him in the nose with the hand that held his gladius, and hurl him into the ground. A burst of gunfire from a foe in a wide-brimmed hat sent the poor puff rolling, right under the scaly foot of the largest among them.

Perhaps sensing his incoming demise, Kirby inhaled and then released a burst of air to send himself scooting out of the way of the great reptile's stomp. He rolled to his feet just as the dragon unleashed a torrent of fire, which Kirby proceeded to suck in. Enemies rushed at him from all sides, but he span on his tiptoe while spewing out the flame in whirling stream. While the melee puppets recoiled, one nimble foe rushed in from a little farther away, firing a volley of crossbow bolts. Kirby sucked them up too and returned them to sender, peppering the perpetrator with the miniature arrows. Though they must have hurt, the shooter gave no sign of pain, and merely stood as yet another, mechanical-looking enemy began to channel into it a stream of healing energy. Yet again, Kirby's hard work was being undone.

There was no time to moan about it. Again the enemy melee fighters assailed him, swinging cleaver, scythe, gladius, and wrench. Kirby compressed himself to duck under the onslaught, then bounced up as the weapons clashed inches above his head. The force of his leap sent the weapons flying, and Kirby took the chance to inhale the lion-tailed commando. A second later the puff sported a futuristic hat and wrench of his own, and though winded and wounded took the fight to the enemy. He traded blows with the other two fighters, positioning them between himself and the long-ranged fighters like the wooden gunner and the hooded marksman, and for a moment it seemed as though he held the upper hand.

Then the dragon-turtle hurtled into the mix. It bowled the armored warrior aside and rocketed a giant fist straight at Kirby's mouth. He dodged upward, springboarded off the monster's arm and swung his new wrench toward its head. However, the beast moved its other hand in the way, revealed a small, round creature clutched between its claws that itself held a shield. Kirby's bludgeon bounced right off the shield, which proceeded to open and pop out a giant drill bit that flung Kirby back.

It was then, with its target sailing through the empty air, the unseen twelfth enemy took its perfect shot. A thunderous noise echoed across the landscape as a sniper round struck Kirby dead-on, eliciting an agonized cry as he plummeted to the ground. In a snap, the puff's will to fight was extinguished. Seconds passed before he could begin to struggle to his feet with the last of his strength, his foes closing in. Bearing a devilish smile, the dancer who'd been supporting the others approached, a rod clutched in her hand. Feebly, Kirby swung his blade, only for another bullet -from the foe whose hat he'd knocked off- to strike him and send him reeling.

He scarcely felt the dancer's rod smack him and bowl him over, knocking him close to the edge of the cliff the withered tree stood upon. Everything hurt so terribly. Though the veteran of a thousand battlefields, he wanted desperately to give in. Yet, the faces of the friends swallowed by the light flashed in his mind. He was their hope—their only hope.

One last time, Kirby attempted to stand.

”Red culmination
Nullifying hope for good
Its last star blinks out.”

Appearing from nowhere, the thirteenth enemy slid its blade into Kirby's back, pushing it through until it protruded from his mouth. It held the blade aloft, allowing Kirby's feet to dangle limply, like a hunter displaying his trophy. Tears welled in Kirby's eyes as they began to glaze over, and with the last of his strength he reached into his little chest. From it he drew a heart, pure and bright. Its warm glow bade the enemies pause, staring without moving until, in a shower of stars, the heart burst.

A fusillade of smaller hearts flew out. One hurtled at every enemy, entering their bodies and blasting them back. Collapsing as though paralyzed, the puppets rolled back and forth in pain as they changed. Scorched skin, cloth, and metal regained their normal luster, and the baleful red left the puppets' eyes. They grew still, one by one, until there was only silence. It remained for a few moments, the morning sun shining upon lush grass and fallen equipment alike. Then, the fighters started to awaken as though from a terrible, terrible dream.

---

“Ow, meh!” Tora complained as he sat up. Beneath him, his wrench had been poking him in the back. Once again, he'd forgotten to put it away before falling asleep. Yawning, he rubbed his eyes with his wings and took a look around. Things took a moment to register. “Mehmeh!?” Confusion struck him in an instant—just where was he? It looked like a grassy hill, with one side giving away to a small, rocky cliff topped by a destroyed tree. More poignantly, it was no place he'd ever seen. Moreover, who were all these freaks? In every direction some stranger lay, seemingly asleep, and some seemed very strange indeed. Puzzled, Tora scratched his chin. “...Is this dream? Or did Tora get kidnapped? Would not have gone anywhere with big bunch of weirdos like this, meh.” Worry began to set in. Not only did he not recognize his surroundings, but he failed to recognize anyone around him. “...And w-where are friends? Poppi? Rex-Rex? Hello-o?”

As he searched, his desperation steadily mounting, he laid eyes on a small, round pink thing that appeared to have a sword through it. For a moment Tora did not quite put two and two together, but after he realized he leaped to his tiny feet. “Goodness! What in world happened to little friend!?” As fast as his legs could carry him, he rushed to Kirby's side. Completely ignorant of medicine, he dared not touch the unconscious puff, and so devoted his full energy to bouncing up and down, flapping his wings in a panic. “Help! Where Nia? Pink friend is hurt bad! Nia, please come help!”

Waking up a few moments after Kirby's intervention, Blazermate picked herself off the ground. "ugh. Oh my poor head... what happened? What was that..." She began to say, still a bit groggy from what just happened. She looked around and noticed she was in a field, with a cliff to one side and a menagerie of strange beings. Trying to remember what happened to her, she tried to think. All she could remember was that she was on her way to the Medabots grand championships, deciding to support her medabot team to win the finals. but then there was this... bright light? And then she woke up here, groggy, but with the faint dreamlike impression that she had been fighting... something.

Shaking herself awake as she got on her feet, she took a closer look at all the new beings. Apparently where she was wasn't the city anymore, that was obvious, but what wasn't obvious was why there was a giant turtle man, a bunch of humans in various cloths; some exotic, some high class, and some normal with many in armor, and some kind of wooden doll with blue clothing. When her gaze saw the birdman up and about, panicking over the corpse of some pink thing, she heard him speaking in broken English, asking if anyone here knew anything about medicine.

Making her way to him, she called out. "Hello? Can you understand me? Are you friendly?" While she didn't look like she was in a combat stance, she sure was ready for a fight if one was coming. Sure she was mostly a medic, but she still could scrap with the best of them if given the option. But she was also hoping that this birdman wasn't hostile, a friendly face in a new world would probably be for the best. As for this pink ball thing with a sword in its... face? Blazermate wasn't going to heal someone she didn't know, even if having a sword plunged that deep into flesh was very unhealthy.

338

The armored Centurion sat up abruptly, grabbing his gladius and swinging it around wildly. "Tu morituro!" He shouted loudly in latin as he stood to his feet.

"Behold!" He pointed his Gladius around, only to see a collection of various...people? Creatures of legend? Perhaps he had taken a blow to the head while storming the Viking fortress and this was...heaven?
"Behold the might..." He quickly lost energy as there was no apparent threat. What happened? Why did he feel so guilty? Centurions do not feel guilty!

"...of Rome?" He finished, unsatisfied, allow his sword to fall by his side. His eyes focused on some sort of strange creature. Flapping around wildly, annoying. There was some sort of woman dressed in bizarre metal armor. There was a cute pink thing with a sword in it's chest. How horrible! What had happened here? If this was Heaven, there was more murder than was promised. It's too bad, for all the Centurion knew he was about to face the Jarl Yigandrr in glorious combat. Perhaps he had been betrayed? It was certainly a very bright betrayal.

What were these things? The Centurion quickly made his way over to the pink thing. It was adorable, and greviously injured by a strange looking sword.

"Stand back!" He shouted. "This is no sight for a woman's eyes!"

The Centurion grabbed the handle of the sword (@Old Amsterdam) and began to saw into it with his own sword. Only this was made of tough stuff. "First things first, we must decrease the length of the impaled object! This gives it less leverage to do damage to the internal organs of this pink marshmellow!" The thing had a face, and looked alive, or at least, it used too. Still! If the birdman was panicking over it, and the metallic woman was there as well, he had a job to do!

"Damn! What is this thing made out of?" He tried bending it, but to no avail. His Gladius would have at least done something to a wooden handle where he came from! The bizarre sword would not be damaged. But to remove it would be to essentially condemn this very strange creature to death. Centurion always had a feeling the otherworldly creatures of legend were real, and if his first action upon reaching Heaven was to allow the first thing he saw to die, well, then he was no Centurion at all! Might as well just call him Magnumus. Or 'Mr. Agoston.' No, sir!

Zer0 awoke as one might expect. That is to say he awoke suddenly. In one instant he was apparently fast asleep next to the pink creature, possibly even dead since there didn't seem to be signs of breathing, and then in the next instant he sat up. Turning his head slowly at the commotion next to him his arm struck out quickly to grab the handle of his blade.

"Softly through the flesh
Unbinding the last breath, lost
Nothing can be fixed."

Without further warning the sword was suddenly gone from the pink creature and Zer0 was now on his feet several steps away as he looked at the others coming to.

Something horrible had happened here. His blade wet with blood and surrounded by unknowns, the situation was not unfamiliar to him. Idly he recollected the Badass Crater of Badassitude. There he had been surrounded by unknowns, who almost entirely became enemies to fall beneath his onslaught to the number one ranking. Would these, too, turn into hostilities?

"The darkness in mind
Shadows following unseen
Are there allies seen?"

He remained in a defensive posture, unmoving except the slight movement of his head as he watched carefully. He hadn't died in Pandora and he certainly wouldn't die here.

"Nghhhh, no grandma, five more minutes..." Linkle grumbled, half awake, as someone began shouting. She tried to roll over and pull the covers up over her head to ward off the morning sun only to have something sharp jab her in the kidney. Her eyes flew open and she quickly sat up, clutching her side and picking up the crossbow that she'd rolled over onto. Had she gotten so tried from practice that she'd just flopped into bed with them again?

Linkle looked around, rubbing the sleep from her eyes to try and confirm that what she was seeing wasn't some blurry mirage. This wasn't her bed! This was some sort of foreboding hill. What in the...no, hold on! The last thing she remembered was...cheering. A party? The castle! She'd just save Hyrule Castle, so could that have something to do with this? She had heard Lon Lon Milk could really mess with you if you drank a little to much of it, but, no, no, none of these people lying around had been at the castle. She'd definitely remember that big turtle monster if he'd been there so what had happened, where was she, and what was that cute little onion looking thing freaking out abou-

"Oh no..." she gasped, stumbling stiffly to her feet leaving the crossbows where they'd fallen in the dirt. It was just like she thought. The onion thing was tending to a pink thing, but the pink thing wasn't just a thing it was a person she could tell because it had eyes and a mouth and oh goddesses there was a sword shoved right through its mouth. As she watched one of the others that had pulled himself up stepped up and was trying to do...something. Despite his warnings to the contrary Linkle stumble-ran forward, past the metal lady, to pear over his shoulder at his work. She couldn't make heads or tails of what he was trying to do, but felt like she had to do something to help. "Is it bleeding? I don't think it is." she asked, kneeling down and hesitantly reaching out and gripping it's little pink nub between her fingers. "Hey, can you hear me? Listen, it's okay. Everything's going to be okay."

She looked around at the others, desperately, as if to ask "right? It will, right?"

That was about when the sword was ceremoniously yanked out of him. Linkle gasped and pulled back from the pink thing, jumping to her feet and spotting the guy with the sword a few feet away...next to her crossbows. "Why would you do that?" she asked, her voice a mix of disbelief and rising anger.

---

Death awoke, slowly getting to his feet. He looked around, realised he was in a completely different place to anything he’d ever seen before. Was this something the Well of Souls had done to him? No, this felt different, like something else had transported him here. Death also noticed that there were many individuals lying around the place, unconscious, just as he was moments ago. Some were awake, however, and he noticed this when one of them began shouting and swinging their weapon around.

Looking in the direction the loud shouting was coming from, he noticed three more individuals. The one making all the noise looked to be some warrior clad fully in armour, there was what seemed to be a mechanical woman there as well as a little furry creature. Death was a little intrigued by all these individuals, so he moved closer to the ones that were awake. Upon moving closer he noticed a fourth person, covered in some form of armour he hadn’t ever seen before, and a young girl in green. He decided to approach them to see if they knew anything about this place. He split his scythe apart back into two and hooked them onto his belt as he made his way over. ”What’s going on here? Where am I?”

Bowser did not wake particularly gracefully, pushing himself up from the ground and and absentmindedly stretching his arms above his head while giving of a loud yawn/groans as if he had just woken from a pleasant nap. It was in the middle of this stretch that the King suddenly froze, his eyes shooting from drowsy halfliddendess to wide open in an instant, as he remembered what he had been doing before he lost consciousness. He quickly lowered his arms back down into a fighting stance and glanced too and fro to take in his surroundings. However instead of the anticipated army of master hands and the their strange winged controller he and the others had been facing down only moments ago he instead found a large number of unfamiliar individuals, most of them unconscious, all spread out over a random grassy hill. Well, mostly unfamiliar.

The koopa king had the unique advantage of knowing not one but two of the people around him. One was the still sleeping puppet who he vaguely remembered knowing from one of the times his castle had been stolen. The time with the massive sword. The other was the pink blobby fellow, with whom he just stood alongside to to do battle and who now lay on the ground with a gaping sword wound in him and was surrounded by most of the awake individuals baring one who stood away from the groop, bloody sword in hand. It only took a few moments for Bowser to come to the wrong impression.

The king roared and dramatically pointed to the swordsman as he bellowed “who are you people!” the hand drifted quickly over to point at the wounded Kirby and his onlookers “and what have you done too… uhhhhh” there was an awkward pause during which the gears in the king's mind slowly ground on and he absentmindedly snapped his fingers while he tried to remember the pink one’s name. “Kir..boy?” he finished hesitantly before barreling with instantly renewed gusto into more questions “Also where am I, what happened to everyone else and where is the glowy wing ball thingy that blasted me with light? I demand answers!”

wordcount: 362

Haze gave way to clear sight, as the Courier sat up from his collapsed position. Blurs of memory flashed before his eyes as he fought away a groggy sense of dread, like something horrible had happened. He tensed his muscles, realizing he had grasped his .44 magnum. A quick glance at his Pip-Boy 3000 showed recent use of VATS. So all in all, a pretty normal time.

The Courier stood up, bolstering his gun and grabbing his nearby cowboy hat, situating it firmly on his head. Quickly, perhaps more quickly than others, he came back to his senses. Probably because he was still drunk from the last night, so he had fewer senses to recollect than the others. Wait, others?

Courier 6 scanned the area, seeing quite a bizarre motley crew. Several people had gathered around of various shapes, sizes, and backgrounds. Most of them were pretty damn hot, too. Yeah, is do them, he thought, popping the top of his whiskey bottle and downing a good gulp. Except for that puppet. I don’t need any splinters on my dick.

Even the robot looked pretty cute. He wondered lazily if it was built for pleasure. Eh, no big deal if not. He still had the FISTO programming saved to his Pip-Boy. The robot was standing over some pink puffball that... felt familiar in some way. Wait... More flashes perforated 6’s memory. Images of a great light engulfing everything, then a fight against the pink ball. It pulled out a heart and...

“I guess I ain’t in the Mojave no more,” he mused lazily, taking another swing of whiskey. “Hey, we should help that thing. I think it, Uh, saved us from....” He squinted, trying to remember more, but the effort bore no fruit. “Ssssssomething....”

Suddenly, as though he only just recognized what he had been seeing, 6 locked eyes on the centurion. His heart skipped a beat. The whiskey went back to his pack as he unholstered his magnum again. “Caesar’s Legion!” He shouted, taking aim. “Get back, slaver scum! You ain’t gonna crucify nobody here!”

That’s when he noticed another of his peers: a large spiked lizard thing. “Shit! Deathclaw!” He changed the target of his aim, keeping the lizard-creature’s eyes square in the sights of his gun.

Michael groaned as he returned to consciousness, squinting his eyes as he looked around. Everything was still blurry, and he could tell that the sun was shining right in his face. Grumbling, he swept his hand across the dirt until he came into contact with something small and metallic. Unfolding his aviators and placing them on his face, he was able to open his eyes without the light blinding him. Sitting up, he looked around him to see nothing but a desolate landscape. Aw, what the fuck did I do this time...

Standing up and shaking himself off, he was relieved to find that, at the very least, there were no dead bodies nearby. Well, at least Trevor didn't go on a drunken rampage again. Where...where is he anyways? Or Frank? And where am I, anyways? Looking around, he was surprised to find his rifle on the ground. Wait, why's this here? I thought I never took it out of the case...

Kneeling down to inspect the scene, he found the rifle was set up in a firing position, facing away from him. A single shell casing lay on the ground, and an inspection of the magazine showed that the rifle had been fired once. The rifle case had been set aside a short distance away from the rifle, and he could see a faint outline of where he would have been lying down to operate the weapon. What the hell did I do? Last I remember, we were at Trevor's airfield, and then...

---

Standing by the entrance to the rickety aircraft hangar, Michael and Franklin shared a laugh as Trevor told the story of one of his recent escapades. "So, anyways, the guy was coming after me, so I grabbed his hedge trimmer and-"

"Yo, what the fuck is that?" Franklin suddenly interrupted, pointing towards the distance. The Los Santos skyline had faded away in a wave of light, which seemed to be coming straight towards them. Before Michael could respond, the light overcame him, and he felt nothing.

---

Michael frowned as the memory resurfaced. What the hell was that? Whatever it was, now I'm here... Looking up from the apparent sniper nest, he could see a collection of multicolored figures in the distance. People? Going prone, he shouldered the rifle, and looked through its scope. What he saw caused his heart rate to spike. He could see a few people, wearing odd clothes, but more than that, he saw several figures that were decidedly non-human. Many of them were unconscious, and a few of them were getting up. As he panned the scope across the field, he could see a strange, pink creature that was heavily injured, with one of the injuries looking very much like a gunshot wound. Did I shoot it? Who the hell are these people? WHAT are they? What the hell is going on?

Standing up again, he patted down his suit jacket, and to his relief, he could still feel his Mini Uzi and its ammo. Kneeling down, he picked up the Barret, brushed it off with his hand, and folded up the bipod. Placing it back in its case, he zipped the thing shut, and lifted it onto his back. Looking towards the group in the distance, he considered his options. They were strange, and might be hostile towards him, but he also didn't know where he was, and they might be his only source of information.

Taking a deep breath, Michael began to move towards the group. After a few moments, he approached their position, stopping as he reached the outside perimeter of the group's location. Seeing the strange, alien beings up close was unnerving, but he took another deep breath and steeled himself. He heard shouting, and noticed that a man in some sort of duster was waving a gun at some other people. Taking out his Uzi and holding it up, he approached them.

"Alright, people! Let's all calm down...I don't know what the fuck is going on, but we don't need to kill each other yet."

~: Star Road - One Hour Prior :~

The star-shaped citizens would wake at early dawn to the sound of an echoing choir spreading their melancholy song across the world. Amongst them, Geno was the first to exit the Floating Castle to bear witness to this strange phenomenon. He expected to hear the majestic singing of star-children or the arrival of beautiful angels blessing the heavenly Star Road of their magnificence. But as he glanced to the morning sunrise, it would be eclipsed by something far bigger than he could've ever anticipated.

It was the largest living being that he had ever laid eyes upon. Blocking out the sun's natural light, it's ball-shaped core radiated the area with its own source of divine light, while it's rainbow-colored wings slowly waved in the wind. But its majesty was not alone. For not only did it command the light, it was surrounded by an army of armless, figureless, white hands, escorting the core towards their destination. Geno would've expected to be welcomed by this marvelous spectacle, but rather he had felt a feeling of absolute dread. And it would be confirmed by an old star-figure floating beside him.

"And so it has come..." the old bearded star spoke somberly, colored deep crimson of age, "The prophecy has finally come to pass."

The wooden doll would look upon his superior with worry in his eyes.

"W-What do you imply, sire?" Geno asked fearfully.

Then the floating hands would come to a slow halt, still floating ominously over the town. They would slowly begin to shed their white glove-like shells, revealing glowing energy-like forms within, as they began to return back to their master's radiant form. The old star quickly began to panic as he looked down at the wooden doll.

"There's no time for me to explain," he bluntly stated with building tension, "You have to go. Run!"

Geno seemed to be roughly confused at this statement as he continued standing his ground.

"No." he states firmly as he points his sacred hand, the Star Gun, towards the divine beings, "Not if I have to say anything about it."

"Are you mad?!" the elder-star pleaded with the armed enforcer, "You can't! Not against him! I beg of you! You must flee for the sake of our people!"

"You've said that it's my duty to protect Star Road from all hostile threats." Geno continued with absolute sterness, "I will not let these things come any closer!"

With that, Geno's boots suddenly flare up as the wooden doll flew towards the seraphim's forces.

"GENO! NO!" the elder star cried out in aguish as he watched their people's only hope head straight towards the hands of a god.

The wooden doll climbed towards the floating core, using all the fuel that he can muster, while charging up his hand cannons to issue the blow that should save the day. The essence formulated into long strings as they let themselves become consumed by their master's core. Geno was already quickly closing the gaps between him and the enemy. There was a chance that he could succeed!

But then the ball of pure energy began to collapse in on itself, replacing the radiant dawn into a void of blinding twilight. Time and space began to warp as colors became more distorted the closer one got to the black hole. It would only be then when Geno finally began to regret his decision to face against the Lord of Light - but by that time it was already too late. The last thing he'd see was a sudden burst of blinding light - comparable to a supernova - as it mercilessly engulfed the doomed warrior into its gaze of divine judgement.

---

The wooden doll's frail body slowly rose as he found his entire face covered in wet mud. The instant Geno confirmed this through touch, he realizes that he isn't back on his beloved Star Road. He proceeded to wipe the remaining mud on his face before checking that his wooden joints were in proper working condition. Yes, each joints happened to be working as intended. However, he was soon quick to realize that his hand no longer bore the symbols and details of the "Star Gun". His hand was simply back to it's original state - the state when he first inherited this doll of a body.

Quickly realizing this, Geno took a long glance at his surroundings.

"W-Where am I...?"

He found himself to be upon a grassy hill, with his surrounding environment having desolated within a brutal apocalyptical-event. Yet he couldn't remember what he was doing here. He only vaguely remembered being engulfed by a bright light, only to now find himself here. And surrounding him, he can see several figures also rising from the ground. He notes armored warriors brushing the first off their armor, mechanical beings testing their joints, a giant turtle demanding where he is, and~

Wait.

Geno's glance immediately focused on the giant turtle. Could it be? Was this the infamous King Bowser - the same King Bowser - that he had helped alongside Mario, Mallow, and Princess Peach all those decades ago to defeat the vile Smithy Gang? How could he possibly have found himself here as well? Considering he's the only being on this hill that he can immediately recognize, the wooden doll quickly flew over to the Koopa King and waved to his old ally.

"King Bowser!" Geno called out as he levitates in front of him, "It has been far too long time since our initial meeting. Do you remember me by any chance? Does the name "Geno" ring any bells?"

Things were escalating fast as everyone woke up in quick succession. First some guy in old fashioned armor, speaking a mix of Latin and English rushed over and tried to break the sword inside the pink thing to no avail. Next came a really tall... ninja robot? It wasn't any medabot Blazermate had seen. Apparently the sword was his, and speaking in a haiku, he pulled it from the pink thing and asked what she was thinking, although a bit more poetically. Then a lady in green, worried much like the roman and the bird person about the pink thing's wounds and basically making lite of a grim situation with false reassurance, Blazermate rolling her eyes at this gesture.

While the next guy in armor awoke and came in peace, the next two people to wake up were starting a conflict. First, a giant lizard with horns and spiked manacles rushed over to the group demanding answers in an angry, if confused way. But even he looked like he'd be alright to deal with, it wasn't until the cowboy looking human got up and pointed his gun at the roman man and the lizard, shouting something about a... deathclaw? Either way, things were getting heated fast and already it was fairly clear who Blazermate should team up with, at least for now.

Gesturing to the lizard man and the cowboy, Blazermate said "Can everyone calm down so we can figure something..." but was cut off by another man, who wasn't part of the group that had been in the clearing, approaching the group with a sub-machine gun pointed at everyone asking everyone the same question herself and the others had. What exactly happened and why were they all here? Considering a great deal of conflict was centered around this pink thing, Blazermate decided she should heal it. Moving around to get behind the guy in the grim looking armor in all the confusion, Blazermate's left palm opened up as she pointed it at the pink thing and a beam of rubbery, soft blue energy came from it and channeled into the pink thing. She wasn't sure if it'd work, but healing this thing might at least ease some of the tension, not to mention garner her a lot of allies in the process. She figured not everyone here was friendly, but being with the majority was probably the best choice. And considering how the newcomer was talking to the lizard man, who was showing the most concern for this pink thing, she was much more confident in her choice, even if a wooden medabot was a weird thing to see.

441

Tora's commotion seemed to prompt a near-instant response. The random strangers strewn over the hillside stirred themselves to wakefulness in quick succession, some muddled by sleep and some worryingly ready for a fight. Everyone getting up at more or less the same time turned out a to be a bit overwhelming, and Tora could feel sweat beading on his head as a number of eyes turned his way, so he quit with the excessive theatrics. That said, his train of thought came to an abrupt stop when he sighted Blazermate.

“Wow-wow!” he exclaimed. He did not for a moment mistake her as Poppi, since he knew every inch of his creation by heart, but this machine piqued his interest most thoroughly. She asked him whether or not he understood her, and he nodded as vigorously as his utter lack of neck would allow. “Yes, Tora, understand completely, and am very friendly, especially to super-cutiepon Artifical Blade! Did Grampypon Soosoo make?” He narrowed his eyes a touch. “No, could not be. Grampypon even better mechanic than Tora, and friend Blade have very blank face, not very much soul. Would not go backward in design.”

His somewhat diminished interest allowed his gaze to wander, and the sight of more strangers reminded him what was going on. “Right, meh!” At rapt attention he watched the Centurion, who he did not otherwise react to, try and fail to help the poor puff. The next second, however, the blade vanished, making Tora jump. “Whoa!” It came to a rest in the hands of an armored warrior, who he couldn't distinguish between man or Blade. Given the lack of extraneous design, however, Tora settled on 'man', though this man did speak in a very strange fashion.

He noticed another stranger, this one a girl in a green mantle, being accusatory to the swordsman. As Tora put two and two together, the Nopon's tone turned harsh, and he spoke up after Linkle did. “Faceless man speak funny. Much talk in circles. Did you or did not you hurt pinkypon?”

In the background, a chorus of questions rose. Most followed the same theme, though some of the more confrontational weirdos, like the cowboy-looking man and the great dragon-turtle, looked ready to brawl. It made Tora forget all about Zer0. Despite the scary situation, however, Tora felt something in his guts: that nobody here was really a bad person. Addressing the hooded girl, he told her, “Do not worry, friend. Tora know everything will be alright!” That said, the gunslinger looked seconds away from putting a few holes in the reptile and the armored guy, of all things. Tora considered running in to try to defuse the situation, since that seemed like something a hero would do, but had no idea what to say. “Ohhh...” he moaned, unsure. “Don't know what do! Where Poppi and Rex-Rex when need them!?”

At that moment, a very normal-looking man approached, holding a weapon but bringing words of peace. Tora breathed a sigh of relief that somebody took the initiative to calm things down. In the momentary lull, Tora spotted a funny-looking puppet flying over to the dragon from earlier, calling him 'King Bowser.' While that meant nothing to the Nopon, he did remember something the brute mentioned a moment ago. “Glowy wing ball,” he murmured aloud. “Blast with light?” Now that he thought about it, Tora remembered light as well, horrible and blinding. Even having witnessed the almighty light of Mythra, an Aegis, he felt that light harsher and...colder, of all things.

Given his proximity to Kirby, he noticed as Blazermate extended the little puff a stream of soft energy. Its exposure appeared to close the fallen one's wounds, and his rigid muscles seemed to relax. After a few moments, Tora could tell that the patient was still breathing. “Ah, friend blade is great healybot! Last assessment maybe bit unkind...” He reached his wing down and tickled Kirby in the side, prompting a weak giggle. “Pinkypon alive!” Tora announced, wearing a wide smile. “Is very good to see.”

"Bah!" The sword was suddenly yanked free from the pink marshmellow! Only then did the Centurion recognize it...the wicked curved sword of a katana! And now holding it, no doubt the person responsible for the killing of the marshmellow, was a man! In strange armor. But in the way that he spoke, in the cursed haiku tongue of the Samurai, wielding a Samurai Sword. Yes! Most likely this person was responsible for something evil!

"Foul Samurai! Behold your end, you stand before-" His voice was mostly drowned out. The Samurai did not seem immediately hostile, which was unusual. There was a dragon, as well. It seemed oafish. The Centurion supposed the Wu-Lin were right after all, dragons were real!

There were a multitude of people after that. Magnumus knew what to do. "Fear not! The Empire is here! Everything is under control! I, Centurion Agoston, will protect you!" Then, Courier 6, though the Centurion did not know his name, pointed a broken crossbow at him and accused him of many heinous things.

"Caesars Legion? I am no common legionnare, sir, I am a Centurion! I possess a Legion of my own, and it is the finest in all of Ashfeld and the Southern Empire! And I know not what a crucify is, and I enslave no one. You are incompetent, as your crossbow is clearly broken. There is no bow! It is just a stick, you fool!"

The Centurion looked around as more people approached. "Calm down! Everyone remain calm! The Empire is here! This Samurai can hurt you no longer, for I will defeat him!"

Despite his claims of wanting calm, the Centurion was by far shouting the most and being the loudest out of anyone here. He then glanced to his side, to see the birdman and the metallic woman nursing the marshmellow back to life. "Oh, that's good." The Centurion said, distracted. He shook his head and made eye-contact through helmets with Zero0.

"You failed, Samurai! The marshmellow lives!" With that, the Centurion began approaching Zer0.

---

Before Death could get an answer from any of the people he walked up on, something big started shouting at them in an aggressive manner. Death thought the beast to be a demon from Hell and went for his scythes, readying them, he slowly moved towards Bowser. Suddenly, a human in old looking clothes started pointing a gun at the Centurion, claiming him to be apart of something that sounded like a clan of some kind. Before he could understand or make sense of the situation another human showed up, also wielding a gun.

There were people who seemed to be attempting to calm things down but Death wasn’t too interested in that right now. He focused his attention on the giant creature, by far the biggest and probably most dangerous one here. He noticed that he wasn’t as powerful as he once was, in fact he felt rather weak currently compared to how he felt before the light. Eventually, he dismissed these thoughts, his attention again returning to the giant demon before him, ready to strike it down at any moment if need be.

Zer0 remained quiet, his face turning slightly as various others addressed him. None drew his attention for long, and if anything he seemed to grow bored. A fact which quickly became made as he spoke again as a holographic display lit up from his head. 'B0R3D'

"Bor-ed, bor-ed, bored
Bored, bored, bored, bored, bored, bored, bored
I am really bored."

But lo! Tora stole his attention nearly immediately thereafter, to which he bowed sightly at the question.

"You wonder rightly
A trader in death am I
But this I did not."

And that was that. His unnatural stillness was broken as the little pink one seemed to stabilize - the other must be a Siren - and in an instant his sword was sheathed. Not that he was exactly relaxed.... Or was he?

The original loud one was at it again, which resulted in Zer0 almost casually crossing his arms. Without any facial expressions it was hard to read him, but... Was he mocking the centurion? Again a projection appeared. 'FML'

"Your wooing tactic
Is completely transparent.
Your neg does not work."

The display turned to a ';)' before flickering out again.

One might be left wondering.... What the hell was going on?

The Centurion hesitated. This Samurai was apparently a wizard, as his helmet changed into multiple shades of different things. Zer0 also claimed not to have attempted to kill the pink thing. His devil poetry was also vexing. But it seemed the Samurai was interested in talking, instead of just yelling banzai and challenging the Centurion to an honorable showdown.

"You claim to not have attacked the pink creature..." He paused, putting a hand on the chin of his helmet. Eventually he came to a realizaation. "...but your sword was quite literally embedded inside it! Haha! Got you! Explain that!" He took a few steps closer. His gladius was at his side but the Centurion was not in combat stance. Instead, his back was straight and his head was high, proudly debating.

"You must swear on your warriors honor you did not backstab the innocent sugar person!" This was a grave statement indeed for the Centurion. The roman knew that Samurai valued honor above life itself. No Samurai would ever deny killing a foe in honorable combat, and even fewer would stab an enemy in the back. If this Samurai was any person at all, he would either deny the accusation and be telling the truth, or he was a murderer. If he was lying, than he was no Samurai at all, and just a backstabbing murderer. Which was better than a Samurai, anyway.

Things were only getting crazier as more and more people started waking up. The skull-faced muscle man that approached her made her wish that her weapons were safely holstered in her boots and not past the guy with the sword. She wasn't so freaked out by the appearances of the various people that surrounded here. On her journey across Hyrule she had come across all kinds of weird charters, but skull face couldn't be more obviously a bad guy if he was were riding a stalhorse. Still, he'd put his weapon away as he approached but she didn't have time to answer him before the others started getting up.

As the whole situation seemed to be heading more toward violence despite the best efforts of the man that had come out of the trees she knew she'd have to think of a plan in case someone threw a punch. First, rush the sword guy and kick him right in the face, grab her crossbows, and go to town on anyone looking for a fight. No, wait, no, that wouldn't work. The guy in armor looked like could handle himself in a fight, and he was a good guy because he'd tried to help the pink thing, but what about the little furry onion and the pink thing? If it was just the onion she could grab him, but she couldn't move the pink thing in its condition. So she'd just have to stand here, in front of them, and introduce anyone that decided to hurt them to the heel of her boot.

It was while she was thinking this that the metal lady made her way past Linkle. She turned to look as the lady went close to the pink thing. The onion (Tora, he'd said) tried to give her some kind words and she couldn't help but smile at them despite the tension. Then he'd repeated something Bowser had said. A glowy wing ball and a blast of...

"Light!" Linkle exclaimed. "I remember! There was this bright light just like the turtle said. It ate right through the castle and took everybody. Nothing could stop it." She remembered the looks on the soldiers faces as the weary joy of victory had turned to shock and horror as the whole world was engulfed in a blinding, radiant light. Just thinking about it filled her stomach with an awful sinking feeling. She hadn't been able to do anything, or save anyone. The next thing the Nopon said though, lifted her spirits and caused the tension to instantly drain out of her. The pink thing was alive. "Yes! Thank goodness. I knew things would turn out okay."

The Courier heard the words of those around him, but chose not to acknowledge them. One false move, one wrong twitch, and the deathclaw would descend upon them all and slaughter the lot. One deathclaw normally wouldn’t be much of a problem. He could just activate the RX implant in his brain and kill the thing in turbo mode before it even knew what had happened. Hell, he could charge it in his X-01 power armor and punch the beast to death. But no, not today. It seemed that none of his cybernetic implants were functional (not even his subdermal armor, how was it possible that metal under the skin just stopped working?), and even his equipment was just a bunch of old stuff from his locker. He hasn’t used the Ratslayer in some time, and the .44 in his hand? Definitely not his Mysterious Magnum. It didn’t play a guitar tune once he drew it! No, it was his old, unmodified magnum. One deathclaw would be enough to destroy him, given the circumstances.

The centurion played dumb, then started to pick another fight. Fucking idiot. The robot used some manner of beam to heal the pink ball. Good, 6 smiled. It was nice to see good people out here, even if it was a robot. But he had to focus. Nobody else seemed to notice the deathclaw. A newcomer even approached and advocated for peace. A good idea, if there hadn’t been a giant mutated monstrosity with a taste for flesh walking among them.

Time started to slow to a crawl as the Courier’s focus intensified. VATS activated, highlighting the deathclaw. Torso, 98% chance to hit. Pointless, it would tank the shot effortlessly. Right leg, 76%. Crippling it would help, but they didn’t bleed much from the leg and the puppet got too close. It’d get killed for sure. Right arm, 82%. It still had a mouth and another arm. The puppet would still be toast. Head, 71%. But would the magnum penetrate the beast’s skull to kill it? This had to be perfect. Lives were on the line. The eyes, 22%. It was a long shot, but 6 had enough stamina to queue up 4 shots. At least one should hit, speaking in probability, right?

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

Four magnum shot rang out one after the other as fast as the revolver could physically allow. The trigger finger couldn’t possibly be human, could it? It was, with just a little help from Vault-Tec(registered trademark)! The four shots flew up over Geno’s head, right by the koopa king’s face, ultimately hitting nothing. The Courier suddenly began to breathe heavy, as though he’d just sprinted half a mile.

“You’re welcome, puppet thing and big turtle. I just killed the deathclaw looming behind you.” He holstered his weapon. Has anybody bothered to look, they would’ve seen nothing there...

“Heh. Still sure my ‘crossbow’ is broken, tin man?” He chided the centurion, taking a seat where he was at and pulling out his whiskey once more. “Hey, ghoul!” He called out to Death. “Want to share a drink?”

Suffice to say there was mixed reactions to bowsers bellowed demands. The most noticeable one was a gun pointed at his head and a distinct lack of answers. There was also a lot of confusion, threats and a few attempts to beget calm mostly made from the ends of weapons. Suffice to say the king was not best pleased with the response he got initially. In Fact he was rapidly becoming rather furious. His meltdown was briefly halted by the arrival of the blue clad puppet who remembered bowser far better than bowser remembered them “Yes. Hello Geno. I…” he began, but Bowser was unable to continue with what would have been an unconvincing lie about remembering Geno’s name as the chaos around him continued to unfold causing his fury to build ever further. Humans angry at him, humans angry at each other, it all bled into itself apart from one little detail upon which bowser immediately laser focused.

"You failed, Samurai! The marshmellow lives!" shouted one of the armored humans at another which brought to attention the fact the a humanoid robot had apparently revived kirby. Kirby was the only other person who had been where bowser had been before the light. Kirby was unique among the in that he had been injured while the rest of them were simply dazed. Here was the potential for answers and he could get them if only he could have a moments peace to get them.

Which!
He!
Was!
Not!
Getting!

Getting shot at was what finally caused Bowser’s temper to be pushed over the edge. It didn't matter that things were just at that very moment seeming like they might be calming down, nor that the courier announced he had shot at something outcalled a “deathclaw” rather than Bowser because the king was pissed, confused, had had his prid stung by defeat at the hands of Galeem and had literally zero anger management skill. His blood boiled, steam shot from his ears and nostrils as he descended into a rage, stomping the ground angrily over and over, the impacts of which caused a thunderous retort, while roaring.



The dragon ended his tantrum with an eardrum shattering roar accompanied by a skywards bout of flame, after which he angrily snatched up his snow white top hat that had fallen off when he was knocked unconscious, angrily placed it on his head, gave it one of those little side to side adjustments you do to get it sitting right and then he stomped over to the recovering kirby, ignoring literally everyone as went. Upon his arrival bowser unceremoniously plonking himself down on his butt in front of the pink puffball, the thud of the impact causing a shockwave to ripple out through the grass. Slaping his hands against his knees and, holding them for support, the beast leaned in and ask the puff ball, with a much quieter but no less furious voice, too “ex-plain”

wordcount: 510

Michael was no stranger to Mexican standoffs. It felt like not too long ago, he was shooting his way out of a four-way battle between himself, two corrupt government agencies, and a private security company. While he was trying to calm everyone down, the man in the duster was still pointing a gun at the giant turtle...dragon...thing. He held the Uzi upwards, not pointing it at anyone, but merely keeping it on hand in case things got ugly. While the two faced off, a few things happened. What looked like a wooden doll approached the lizard and tried to talk to it, referring to it as "King Bowser", and referring to himself as "Geno". The fact that something made of wood could talk at all was incredibly bizarre, but he managed to ignore that fact for the moment. Instead, he filed away the information about their names, something which would likely be useful later.

While he hoped that the standoff would end soon, it seemed unlikely, as some guy in medieval looking armor came around and started shouting nonsense about empires and samurai. If this was Los Santos, he would have dismissed the guy as being on drugs or crazy, but since it was pretty obvious at this point that they weren't in Los Santos, he might have been telling the truth. Things only got worse as another guy showed up, carrying a scythe and looking like he was getting ready to attack Bowser. He kept an eye on all of them, trying to get them to calm down whenever possible.

Just about when he was getting ready to put his gun down, duster-guy decided that it would be a good idea to fire his revolver four times at Bowser. Before he knew it, he had his Uzi trained on him, ready to take him out if necessary. Before he pulled the trigger, he looked to check on Bowser, who, to his surprise, was totally unharmed. As the duster guy started talking about killing a "deathclaw" behind them, he lowered his Uzi, letting out a sigh. Great, he's a schizophrenic. Fucking lovely. After he shot at the imaginary creature, he began calmly chatting to the others, as if the whole standoff never happened.

Bowser, clearly, wasn't over it. His sudden outburst had, to be frank, scared the shit out of Michael. Although, he couldn't say he didn't agree with him. At the very least, it seemed to have had the appropriate effect. Taking in another deep breath, Michael put his Uzi back in his suit pocket, and walked up to the duster-wearing man and others. He looked at the duster guy in particular, and spoke to him.

"You're a real charmer, pal."