This is a Fanfic about random Nintendo

[Pilgrim John]

The following is the first chapter in a story I'm writing about everybody here. I'll try to find a part for everyone, but the only two featured here in the first chapter are Dan and myself. Enjoy!

The train lumbered along the tracks with all the grace of a sad drunk, but with all the determination of the Little Engine That Could. It was cloudy out, and even though the weatherman said to expect some rain, not a drop was seen that evening. Thus, the train chugged along without fear of the weather.
Inside of one of the decrepit boxcars were two people who could easily be mistaken for hobos. It wasn’t as if they were dirty or ragged, mind you; it was that they were dirt poor, hungry, and on the run.
The first one attempted in vain to make himself more comfortable in the hay, but straws were never considered comfortable in the first place. After a few minutes of struggling, he finally gave up on it and decided to sit on the more comfortable wood floor. His raccoonlike ears perked at every small sound, listening for anything out of the ordinary. You could never be too careful.
He breathed heavily, then curled up on the floor like a small animal. His tail, every bit as raccoonlike as his ears, flicked about, then curled around him. Obviously, he was unlike any other individual you’d see—for he was what was known as a “Tanuki.”
The other figure, large and lion-like in physique, was asleep for now. His quiet snoring was all that pierced the silence, next to the creaky sounds of the lurching train. His clothes—nothing but a tank top, fingerless gloves, work pants, leather boots, and a chain necklace—were all he had on him; not a cent to his name.
Not able to sleep, the first one sat up. He hated this feeling of nausea and fatigue. He usually attempted to be optimistic and cheerful, but it was rather difficult to find a good side to this situation. He flicked at his long, dark bangs as he tried to gather his thoughts back together.
Being a Tanuki was never easy: since they were a dying race, their minority status was all but destroyed. Even though he was a talented artist, he was barely ever able to make ends meet. He often wondered how he achieved optimism at all when his life got harder for him to live.
He sighed, despaired at the nasty turn of events that took place earlier that week. He was even more disappointed in himself now, because this lion-like stranger became involved in his mistakes and has to suffer the consequences along with him.
The Tanuki looked himself over. His necktie was still tied properly, even though it (along with his other clothes) were dirty. The T-shirt he wore over his other shirt, in particular, was filthier than he could stand to look at. It was a good thing he brought along some other clothes in a paper bag: as soon as they found some refuge, changing out of these clothes would be the first thing on his list.
After a moment or two, the other figure stopped snoring. The Tanuki’s ears perked up in acknowledgement of his awakening. The big man shifted about, then stretched.
“Hey,” said the Tanuki as he laid back on the wall behind him.
“Hmm,” the groggy man answered.
“Listen,” the Tanuki began, “um… I’m sorry for getting you mixed up in all this.”
“Hm? Oh, that?” the big man chuckled. “That’s the third time you’ve apologized. But, you really don’t need to worry about it.”
“Really, I am sorry,” the Tanuki added quickly.
“No, stop it.” The big man began to sound a little annoyed. “John, I made that decision with full knowledge of the repercussion. I knew I’d get in trouble for coming to your rescue, but I knew it was something I had to do. It isn’t your fault at all, so STOP APOLOGIZING.”
After a small silence, John looked at the other man with his dark, almost childlike eyes. He blinked and said quietly, “OK. I understand.”
They were quiet for a while, listening only to the sounds of the boxcar grating against the railroad tracks. After about five minutes, John asked, “What are we going to do now, Dan? Just keep running from them?”
“No,” answered Dan. “Running away solves nothing. Those guys are after you with a vengeance. We need to seek some kind of asylum for you, maybe a government facility, or a church.”
A small smile crept across John’s lips for the first time in months. Church was like his home away from home; somehow, it just felt like he was wanted there, needed there. It was where he received his seemingly impregnable optimism.
“Until then,” Dan continued, “we need to lay low. You stick out like a clown at a tea party, so we’ll have to hide your ears and tail.”
“I have a hat I could wear over my ears,” John offered.
“Good. But your tail’s gonna be tricky.”
John’s ears flicked about as he began to think. “What about you? They’re going to remember what you look like, too.”
“Me?” asked Dan. “Hmmm… I don’t know. I’ll think of something.”
John sighed. Being optimistic while on the run from people who want you dead is not only difficult, but almost inappropriate as well. There was no telling why those men wanted him dead. Not only that, but having to run and hide while groping for safety didn’t sound like something a struggling artist was meant to do. The going was only about to get even rougher.
Dan began to fiddle with the large icon on his chain necklace. The shiny metal in the shape of a key with a crown on top looked to be the only valuable item he had (which was probably true). John looked at it for a minute, and then asked, “Where’d you get that?”
“Hm?” Dan blinked. “Oh, this?” He looked at it for a moment, then answered, “I’ve worn it for such a long time that… I really don’t remember where I got it.”
John’s ears lowered. He liked a good story, and was disappointed when he wasn’t able to hear one.
Dan reached into his nearby bag full of clothes and food, and began to pull out items he could use for a good disguise. “You’d better find something to disguise your tail with,” Dan said. “It sounds like we’re about to stop at the next station.”
John nodded, then opened his bag and began to rummage for anything he could use. Not used to traveling, John had forgotten to prepare plenty of food; thus, he was trying to make what food he had stretch as long as he could force it without starving to death.
After a bit of rummaging, John had found the cap he owned and a sweatshirt. He stuffed his ears into the cap as he placed it upon his head. Afterwards, he tied the sweatshirt around his waist and let it drape over his tail.
“You really think that’s going to fool anybody?” Dan asked him between mouthfuls of potato chips.
“Well, it’d be kind of uncomfortable to stuff it down one leg,” John said with an air of humor, “not to mention people would think I loaded my pants.”
Dan laughed at the statement. “That’s the first time I’ve heard you crack a joke since I’ve met you,” he said.
“Have you decided on your disguise yet?” John asked.
Dan though for a bit, then looked at his empty chip bag. He laughed at the thought of wearing it, but it was the best disguise he had at his disposal. He took out his pocketknife and cut out two eyeholes in the bag, then placed it over his head. To finish his disguise, he put on a pair of sunglasses.
“Whaddaya think?” Dan asked, expecting to make John laugh. A chuckle or two would do the kid some good anyway.
John scratched his chin thoughtfully for a moment, then answered, “Does it come in sour cream and onion as well?”
The both laughed over the joke, not that it was that funny, but that the tension of the situation could be temporarily ignored by doing so.
After they both calmed down, John sat down on the floor again. After a few minutes of more silence, he asked, “Say, where is this train going anyway?”
“A town called Ashburg,” Dan replied. “It’s a smaller town. Not like Marin City, where we just were.” He laid back a bit as he continued. “We’ll find a motel and rent a room. We can decide what to do in the morning.”
John blinked a few times suspiciously.
“What?” asked Dan.
After a pause, John folded his arms and looked away. “All right, but don’t even try to pull anything funny on me.”
“WHAT?!” Dan yelped in an offended matter. “What kind of person do you think I am?”
“I don’t know,” John answered. “I’ve only known you for less than three days. For all I know, you probably just saved me for your bizarre sexual appetite.”
Dan paused for a minute. This most definitely wasn’t the first time someone didn’t trust him, nor was it the first time someone believed he was gay; but it was definitely the first time someone had put it all so very, very bluntly.
Unsure of how to respond to such an accusation, Dan groped for words. “Um, well… Y-You see, um…”
John let out a groan. “Oh, please don’t tell me I was right…”
“N-No, no, no. I-It’s not like that at all,” Dan finally spouted. “It’s just that, well, um…” He began to fumble with his words again. This wasn’t like him at all, to lose his composure. He finally regained his disposition and answered, “Look, I’m not going to hold you as a sex hostage, and I am most CERTAINLY not gay. If it makes you feel any more assured, we can rent a room with separate beds.”
John glared at him for a while longer, then snorted and looked away again.
“OK, if you’re going to be like that, then you can just forget about my ever getting you out of a jam again,” Dan stormed. He folded his arms and harrumphed, incredulous of John’s accusations.
“So who’s paying for the room?” John asked.
Dan was suddenly deflated. As a traveler, he was usually in need of some quick money. He often did monster-hunting jobs posted by certain towns or pawned off valuable items he’d find on his exploration to fund his travels. Right now, however, he was more broke than a window after a wrecking ball goes through it.
“Look,” John said, “it isn’t that I don’t trust you. It’s that I don’t know you too well. I’m just being careful.” He adjusted his cap and lay back on the wall behind him.
Dan looked at him in disbelief. This kid was going to either be an asset or a pain in the asset.
“Apology accepted,” Dan breathed. “But I don’t expect your meager earnings to stretch very far. We might have to end up hunting monsters for more travel money. You DO know how to fight, don’t you?”
John nodded. “I was able to fight since I was barely six. You’d have to know how to fight if you were a Tanuki living in a big city.”
Dan smirked (Not that anyone could tell under his “mask”). “That’s what I thought. This journey is gonna be pretty tough. I’m just glad I’ve got company this time.”
John hadn’t thought of that. Traveling must be a lonely way to live, with nothing to look forward to or anyone to depend on. Now he really felt sorry for his accusations; just because a guy is lonely doesn’t mean he’s homosexual.
They awaited the landing in that dusty boxcar, listening only to the rattle of the rails as they went.


And of chapter one. Stay tuned!

[Panique]

.. wow. That is a... LONG chapter. I skimmed through it, I'll read it properly when I'm bored XD

But it's got some great details. You're an awesome author.

[Waffle Monger]

its pretty cool... i just pray you dont have me as the homeless philosopher XD

[Pilgrim John]

graymatter said:

its pretty cool... i just pray you dont have me as the homeless philosopher XD

No. I won't.
Instead, you get to fly a ship.
www.deviantart.com/deviation/40225737/?qo=4&q=by%3Apilgrimjohn&qh=sort%3Atime+-in%3Ascraps

[Panique]

Best... ship... EVER!

[Pilgrim John]

Chapter two, everybody. It's... really long. But I hope you all enjoy it, as it was meant to be humorous.

CHAPTER TWO

“A long time ago it was, when the gods ruled the world of humans. Each one governing a single aspect of life:
“Ramuh, God of Wisdom.
“Ifrit, God of Fire.
“Shiva, Goddess of Ice.
“Alexander, God of Honor.
“Eden, God of Life.
“Siren, Goddess of Beauty.
“Carbunkle, God of Innocence.
“Quetzelcoatl, God of Lightning.
“Leviathan, God of Water.
“Pandemona, God of Wind.
“Odin, God of Courage.”
“…And Mephisto, the God of Death.
“For centuries, they ruled our world, until one fateful day, when Mephisto, the God of Death, desired more than his fair share of the world. He declared war on all the other gods, and his forces marched on their lands.
“His armies acted like a cancer, spreading across the earth and slaying all the gods. One by one they fell, until only Mephisto was left. He fashioned himself a suit of armor out of the remains of the fallen gods, and struck fear into the hearts of humans.
“He ruled the earth with an iron fist, demanding sacrifice of first-born sons and the burning of virgins. But one day, one human challenged Mephisto to a duel. “You? Defeat ME?” the monster laughed.
“This human, named Gilgamesh, replied, “If I win, you will be banished from this earth for all eternity, and we will be free to live.”
“And if I win,” said Mephisto, “You will be cast unto the flames of Hell to burn forever, and I shall continue to rule.”
“The duel began that time ago, when the hero Gilgamesh fought the evil Mephisto. After much struggle, Gilgamesh sacrificed his left arm to deal Mephisto a deathblow. For, unlike other humans, Gilgamesh knew Mephisto’s only weak point: his right eye.
“With the Blade of Gilgamesh still stuck in his eye, the monster Mephisto was sent to the Otherworld, where he remains to this day. His last words were, I believe, “Curse all humans! Death is but a doorway, Time is but a window… I shall return!”
“As for Gilgamesh, he was heralded as a hero to the people. He was then decided to be the world’s very first king, and ruled justly for 100 years until his death. He was known as the One-Armed King, and was forever inscribed into the annals of history.”
The children blinked in awe at the old man’s tale of heroes, evil gods, and courage. One little boy asked, “How did Gilgamesh know Mephisto’s weakness?”
The old man adjusted his position on the brick fence he was sitting on. “Well, Gilgamesh is a man of legends, you see: some say that he ventured into the Otherworld in order to find a weapon that he could use to gouge out Mephisto’s eye. I believe it was his grandfather who told him of Mephisto’s weakness—you see, Gilgamesh’s grandfather used to serve the god Alexander.”
The children began to murmur amongst themselves. That seemed like a plausible answer.
The old storyteller enjoyed his hobby. Watching as the faces of children become mystified at the stories of ancient heroes and demons was something of a sapphire in a crown of precious stones.
“That story’s a bunch of crock,” came a voice from not far away.
The children looked up at the newcomer. He was rather short and on the scrawny side; had uninterested eyes and a thin, scruffy beard. He wore a trench coat and a bucket cup that covered most of his forehead.
“Come on,” the newcomer continued, “You kids would honestly believe that crappy fairytale? That never happened at all.”
One of the children, a little girl with freckles and blonde pigtails, replied, “How do you know? Were you there when the world started?”
He blinked and grunted, a sign of irritation at its worst. “I don’t need to have been there when the story is so far-fetched. Come on. A sword that can kill gods? The One-Armed King? It’s all bunk.”
The old man sighed. There was always one critic in every crowd. “Gray, why do you always do this to me?”
Gray straightened up at the old man’s words. He had let his mouth get the better of him once again. He slapped his forehead, incredulous of his own stupidity. Arguing with little kids about a fairy tale was something only a complete idiot would do.
“Look,” he began, “I-I’m sorry—”
The old man shook his head. “Stop apologizing,” he said. “It isn’t as if it’s the first time you’ve done this.”
The street corner they were at began to empty as the children walked away, the wonderful story destroyed by a mouthy critic. Gray hung his head, embarrassed. He was 16 years old, and still argued with little kids over fairy tales.
The old man got off the brick fence he was sitting on. “It’s okay,” he said. “You just need to keep quiet when you need to. Your mouth is going to get you in a lot of trouble someday if you’re not careful.”
Gray couldn’t count how many times he had heard that one. He knew it was probably going to end up being the death of him someday, but it felt like it was the inevitable since he could never really control his mouth.
The old man walked down the street, leaving Gray on the street corner. After a few minutes, Gray shook his head. “Ehh, what does he know?” After which, he grumpily walked down the street, trying to remember what he was supposed to do today.
He was supposed to meet his friends at the shopping mall today, he remembered. They usually hung out together either at the mall or a local pizza parlor called The Last Slice (Better than Pizza Hut. Really), and shared some of the most idiotic things a youth could do. From sliding down a half-pipe on a desk to crashing the “father’s special car;” you name it, they’ve most likely accomplished it.
And for some reason, all of it was fun.
Eventually, Gray made it to the mall. It wasn’t exactly a posh mall like in other, bigger towns, but it was definitely large enough. Its interior had all the necessities a young man could want: a Hot Topic, FYE, an arcade, a book store, a bakery, an electronics store, and even a giant carousel you could ride for free. It wasn’t a wonder why this was THE meeting place for youths and couples.
It wasn’t long before Gray saw his friends sitting around a table sharing a pizza. After their usual greetings, Gray took a seat and helped himself to some pizza. Even though there were four kids total, the pizza looked as if it were barely nibbled on (an unexplained act!).
Gray looked at his friends again as they began to talk about various things: their love lives, their hopes for the future, and what they were going to do that summer. He admired them all, despite their shortcomings… and believe you me, they had plenty.
Smith, who went by the alias Agent Smith, often cosplayed as the Matrix villain of the same name. He was often temperamental, and never took guff from anybody—whether he was right or wrong about the subject at hand. It was a good thing that the gun in his pocket was fake—else, he’d probably have been sent to prison several times by now.
Christopher was the very definition of “oddball” in a physical form: he was shaped much like a thumb or big toe, wore a nun’s outfit, and had two hands that were suspiciously not connected to his body. His unusual physiology gathered undesirable “point-and-laugh”, but he was otherwise unaffected by the words of others. He was very philosophical, easygoing, and helpful to others, but at the same time forgetful. You could only depend on him when you had no one else to trust.
And finally, Ruben. His Mexican heritage was quite fluent. At times, he would end up speaking Spanish on accident instead of English. He was neither skinny nor fat, and sported short curled hair and a mustache that was barely out of the “peach-fuzz” zone. A very daring individual, he was known to challenge everything from kids twice his size to the unpredictable forces of nature. This often led to disaster, but the trip there was too fun for Ruben to pass up.
Between bites of the Sicilian special, Ruben began the real meat of the conversation. “So, now that school’s out, what do we do?”
Smith rubbed his neck, a nervous habit he’d had since he was but a child. “That all depends. Do any of our parents have plans for the summer?”
Gray shook his head. “Nope,” he answered, “My mother has too much stuff to do this month, and because she’s lazy, she likely won’t plan anything vacation-related.”
Christopher blinked a few times, attempting to remember what exactly that his parents had planned. “Hmmm, I think that my parents were planning to send me to music camp.”
Smith adjusted his sunglasses. “Isn’t that what they did last year?”
“Oh yeah,” Christopher recalled. “I thought that was a golf camp, though. Are you sure?”
Smith grabbed another piece of the pizza. “Sure I’m sure. You told us that last year, you were going to music camp. So are your parents really planning anything?”
Christopher finally recalled what his mind had been groping for. “Aha!” he chimed. “The sticky note they left on my right buttock might have something to say about that!”
All three of his friends blinked in surprise. Ruben tried to contain his laughter as Smith nearly choked on a pepperoni.
After the uncomfortable scene of watching their thumb-shaped friend rummage around in his… behind… he finally lifted out a sticky-note with nearly unintelligible lettering written on it. Christopher cleared his throat as he read the message.
After a small silence, Christopher answered, “They’re sending me WHERE?!”
Gray looked over Chris’ shoulder to take a look. His eyes widened. “They’re sending you to the country of Midgar? Isn’t that place a wasteland or something?”
Christopher scowled. “They’re sending me to a karate camp. In a wasteland. This CAN’T be happening.”
Ruben shook his head. “Well, sorry to hear it.” He polished off the slice he had been nibbling on all morning.
Gray ran his hand over his right ear. Suddenly, he was struck with brilliance. “Hey, Chris, how about we throw a ‘going-away’ party for you?”
Christopher suddenly smiled, reclaiming his jovial attitude. “Sure!” he beamed, “That sounds like lots of fun! But I won’t be leaving until two days from now.”
Smith stuck his left hand on his knee. “You’ll be here tomorrow? Perfect timing.”
Christopher cocked his head. “Really? What makes you say that?”
Smith reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out four tickets. “It took me weeks of nurturing mom’s garden, mowing the lawn, washing the car—and I even had to mug a midget—but I managed to scrounge up some cash for the Big Concert tomorrow night.”
The group smiled huge smiles as they saw their usually terrible luck finally turn the right way. Gray was the first to ask: “Which band is it?!”
Smith spoke slowly for the suspense: “The Raging Bovines.”
The group suddenly deflated. The Raging Bovines was certainly Smith’s favorite scream metal band, but the rest of the world generally hated them. Their songs were anything from chaotic wish-it-were-rock to perversions of classic children’s songs. Almost adding insult to injury was the fact that Smith bought up all three of their CD albums: “Retarded in the Garden”, “Upside-Down and Badly-Dressed”, and “Excuse Me, But There Seems to Be a Monkey on Your Head.”
Ruben tried his hardest to sound excited for tomorrow’s events. “Um, yeah, that’s… excellent,” he mumbled. Enthusiasm, where art thou?
Smith put the tickets back in his shirt pocket. “OK, here’s the plan: tonight, we hold a going-away party for Chris. Tomorrow night, we take him to the concert. At least it’ll give Chris something to remember before he goes to Crap Land.”
Christopher attempted to maintain his smile, but it was hard to look forward to something worse than death. At least he wasn’t going to suffer alone.
After they had finished their pizza, they had left the mall and were well on their jolly way back to Christopher’s house to arrange party plans. On their way there, the traffic had apparently gotten worse than it was normally. Gray was disgusted with the way people drove. When he got his driver’s license, he’d NEVER not pay attention.
After nearly being run down by a pickup truck, Smith turned around and shook his fist at the driver. “It’s too early to drive drunk, ass****!!” Gray breathed heavily as the shock of nearly being run over wore off. “That,” he heaved, “was THE shortest green light I’ve ever seen.”
As Smith continued to hurl insults at the idiotic drivers, Gray noticed an old man in a red coat and top hat attempting to cross the street. He looked ahead at the traffic, and lo and behold! Some idiot was on his cell phone while picking his nose and attempting to steer the car with his tongue.
“That old man’s gonna be pancaked!” Gray shouted in horror. Ruben and Christopher immediately looked up to the old man’s direction. Smith stopped shouting to see what was going on. As for Gray, he immediately took off running towards the old man.
The car was closing in fast. Gray might not have enough time to even get to the old man. It was times like these that Gray wished he would exercise more in case of such events. Time began to slow, as it always did in times of disaster. Suddenly, it all seemed to happen too quickly.
The old man noticed the speeding car and froze on the spot. The driver was still picking his nose like a four-year-old. Gray leaped at the old man with all the force his scrawny body could manage. The next thing Gray heard was a loud screech of tire.
The rest was a blur.
After roughly ten seconds, Gray opened his eyes. Did he reach the old man in time? Did he die? Did the driver actually stop in time? He noticed the old man was on the road next to him, safely out of the car’s way. He looked around and noticed that the car had swerved out of the way, and was stopped. The driver came out of his vehicle to examine any damage.
“Are you all right?” the driver asked.
Suddenly, he was smacked from behind. Agent Smith turned him around. “Look, Joe,” he began. “You almost splattered my friend and that old man there. You’re lucky I’m in a good mood, or I’d plaster your face to the pavement.”
The driver was in shock at the vicious tone of Smith’s threats. Smith continued his livid lecture. “Punks like you need to take driving lessons over and over again until you’re actually halfway good at driving. Or be put in jail. I’m not picky.”
After the storm of heated words, Smith finished. “I’m gonna let you off with a warning now. If I ever catch you driving like a maniac ever again, I’m going to take your face apart and rearrange it in ways you’re better off not even thinking about. Clear?”
“Crystal!” yelped the now-frightened driver.
Smith let go of the driver’s shirt and looked over at Gray and the others. The driver, spooked out of his mind, crawled back into his car and sobbed like a frightened child.
Christopher helped the old man up to his feet as Ruben did the same for Gray. “Are you all right, mister?” asked Christopher.
The old man straightened up his tie and top hat, then tapped his cane on the ground. He stared at them all the way a vulture glares at the desert’s victims before they die.
Suddenly, the old man burst out laughing and clapping his gloved hands like a child receiving a new toy. The four youths were more than a little confused as to the old man’s actions.
The old man calmed down. His full beard was a bit scruffed up by the impact on the ground, but other than that, he had no injuries. “You were all so very brave to save an old coot like me,” he began. “But I think we’d all be much safer on that sidewalk over there.” He pointed his cane in the direction of the sidewalk they were just at.
They walked over to the sidewalk in a hurry (Hustled is probably a better term here). The old man readjusted his tie and tapped his hat back into the proper position of his cranium. “Now, where was I?” he started. “Oh yes! Thank you all so very much. My name is Alexey Pajitnov. I’m a multibillionaire.”
The four youths all blinked so much you could actually hear the blinking. “Excuse me?” asked Ruben. “You’re a billionaire? In THIS armpit of a town?”
Pajitnov piffed. “Oh, what, now. You young ‘uns really don’t understand what you’ve got here. It’s nice and quiet, nothing so noisy or filthy as big cities like New Jackson or San Fandengo. It’s a marvelous, quaint little retreat for people like myself. A real jewel in the desert sands, so to speak.”
The excitable old man certainly loved to talk. He took off his spectacles and began to clean them as he continued. “Anyway, I’ve been working since I was but twelve years of age. Eventually, I struck oil while mining in southern Oasis.”
Gray began to feel excited. “You mean you’re an oil tycoon?”
Pajitnov grinned as he repositioned his spectacles. “Was, my young friend. Was. My oil business eventually grew too large and noisy, so I sold it for a total estimate of 19.5 billion dollars.”
Their eyes widened. Who HAD that kind of money? The marketplace was a place of risks and measures, to say the least. The old man went on.
“I commonly invested in stocks. I’m now a partial owner of twenty-one different large businesses whose product ranges from athletic shoes to video games! And now, I live on in this quaint village, my money slowly but surely losing its value as I grow closer to my end.”
Christopher made a depressed face.
“I guess the excitement of being a billionaire sort of tapers off when you realize that you can’t take it with you, huh?” the thumblike youngster said.
Pajitnov nodded. “Unfortunately, it’s true. Money is definitely important in this world, but you begin to realize that it isn’t everything this world has to offer. That’s why I invested large amounts of my money into my favorite hobby.”
The group was interested. Ruben nodded for Pajitnov to continue.
Pajitnov combed his right eyebrow. “Yes, building AIRSHIPS!”
“Airships?” echoed Smith.
“Yes, airships. Ships designed for flight rather than for sail. To take to the skies, and fly free as a bird. It’s man’s greatest invention, to accomplish his favorite dream.”
He scratched his neck as he noticed his audience was captivated by his own personal hobby. He looked at them, again for a few minutes, then burst out laughing and clapping his hands. “You know what? I’ve had that fun for too long, flying my airship. For twenty-five years, I lived out my fantasy of being a sailor who takes to the sky. And let me tell you, living your fantasy comes at a price. I have no children of my own, and I’m too old to put up with very much anymore. Say, how about you four?”
Gray gasped in surprise. “Us four? For what? You mean…?”
Pajitnov nodded as he clapped his hands while laughing once again. “Yes, yes!” he cheered. “For your inspiring courage and kindness for saving the likes of an old loony like me, I want to give you my prized possession: the Captain Jack!”
They almost wet themselves. They had just inherited an airship from a multibillionaire. This was the LUCKIEST DAY OF THEIR LIVES, all capitals necessary. The Raging Bovines concert and going-away party were instantly forgotten in favor of such a stupendous occurrence.
Finally, they were able to take to the skies, on an adventure that they would not soon forget.

[Agent Smith]

WOW, thats a hell of a chapter!

dude, you made me look like a bad ass, sweet, usually, im portaraid as a sissy. THE TIDES HAVE CHANGED!!

cant wait for the next chapter!

[Waffle Monger]

I feel owned and weird, but it was a cool chapter. Lol, THE CAPTIAN JACK!!

[Panique]

Woo! I read the chapter! XD It was long. *blink* But good. You are talented.

I love the descriptions, especially. It paints a picture in your mind. Can't wait for next chapter.

[Pilgrim John]

Wow, it's looking like a real hit here.
That makes me a happy Raging Bovine. ;D Too bad I'm Upside-Down and Badly Dressed.
I'll try writing the third chapter tomorrow. Here's a hint: it involves a boss battle!

[Panique]

Oh snap! XD

Woo. I can't wait^^

[Pilgrim John]

And here it is! The chapter that finally introduces us to Justin, Juggalette, and the villain of the story. Enjoy!

CHAPTER THREE

The darkened room was lit only by the blood-red candlelight. A number of shadows chanted in the room, filling it with disturbing resonance. In the center was a young woman, barely out of her teens, surrounded by the candles and bathed in their light.
She was forced to perform this ritual many times before, and it had since become something more than a terror to her. She began to feel her innards lurch about as another, more sinister soul began to enter her body. Her short hair began to curl and twist in an unnatural way; her eyes, once shiny and beautiful, began to dart about like a wild animal’s. Frothing at her mouth, she spewed blood and vomit while screaming blasphemous howls.
Then, just as suddenly as it began, it stopped.
“The ritual is complete,” a deep voice said. “The channeling has begun.”
The young woman sat cross-legged and wobbled about like a drunken child. She began to drool. Suddenly, a voice not her own began to speak.
“Is the plan coming along?” it asked.
The man with the deep voice stepped forward, then bowed on one knee. He was tall, wore a long cloak with a bat-shaped collar; his lifeless eyes seeped with evil. His skin was as pale as the moon with red veins covering the sides of his face. His hair was swept back in an almost aristocratic fashion. His red, sharp teeth showed when he spoke. He was what some could call a “vampire.”
“It is proceeding as planned,” the vampire stated. “Our politicians in Congress are preparing a bill that will call for a manhunt of all remaining Tanuki. We will be able to find them much more easily.”
The demon sounded pleased. “Very well,” it began, “Will the President sign the bill and pass it as a law?”
The vampire smiled a crooked smile, his bloodstained teeth glistening in the candlelight. “He is owned by the oil corporation called Shinra. I am to convince them to bribe the President with an offer he can’t refuse.”
The young woman’s head began to jitter about unnaturally, her tongue hanging limply out of her mouth. “Good,” said the demon. “It is fortunate we are on such good terms with Shinra. See to it that they give him large amounts of whatever he wants just to sign that bill. I need those Tanuki. There may be only a dozen left, perhaps fewer.”
The vampire nodded. “The Civil Crusade that erupted after the Great Annihilation took place nearly a hundred years ago…”
The voice once again slithered from the mouth of the girl. “I remember it well. The purpose of that Crusade was to destroy the Tanuki. If it had not been for the lobbying of those soft-hearted politicians, the Crusade would have succeeded and our plan would have failed.”
The lights from the candles began to flicker. The demon’s time was almost at its end. “The minority status of Tanuki is ranked lower than soil,” said the vampire, “and a long history of oppression has all but destroyed the Tanuki population. We will recover what is left of them, and initiate Phase Two.”
The young woman began to lurch about as though she were being punched. “See to it that you succeed. I shall not tolerate failure.”
“I will succeed,” the vampire smiled. “Lord Mephisto.”
The candlelight immediately burned out. All was silent in the room for a while. The girl had fallen over and lied in a heap. She slowly began to regain her consciousness as she was forced back onto her feet by two fiendish-looking shadows. She smelled her own blood and tasted her own vomit, and she must have urinated while she under the trance.
“Take the girl back to her cell,” the vampire said. He walked over to her, and grabbed her chin with his fingers. Pulling her face up to meet his as her eyes adjusted to the dark, he breathed on her, saying, “I’m glad we still have use for your worthless carcass.”
She wrinkled her nose. His breath smelled like someone had burned a diaper in his mouth. “What do you hope to achieve, Justin?” she demanded.
Justin, who was the vampire, let go of her chin. Suddenly, she felt a strong hand smash across her face, leaving a trail of blood from her lip, a bruise on her cheek, and a ringing in her ears. “YOU ARE IN NO PLACE TO DEMAND ANYTHING,” the vampire growled, “YOU WILL REMAIN SILENT.”
After a silence, Justin pointed at her. “What are you two waiting for? Take her away!”
As the two dragged the young woman back to her prison, Justin left the dark room with all the other members of his cult, leaving only the candles on the floor as witnesses to the horrors of Mephisto’s will.

* * *

Today was turning out to be a rotten day wrapped in poop-stained boxers at the bottom of a toxic waste dump. The morning had been mediocre at best, but after not having any money for breakfast, Dan and John had to go monster-hunting to fund food. It became steadily worse as the sun forced humidity on the two.
Dan checked over his list of monsters. So far, they hadn’t run into any of the ones on the list. The listed monsters were dangerous, of course, and would have to be dealt with immediately to protect the populace. Apparently, however, it appeared that even dangerous, blood-sucking demons weren’t dumb enough to hang out in the humidity.
John sat at the base of a tree, exhausted and hungry. His ears lowered as sweat dripped off the end of his nose. He readjusted his cap, rubbed the sweat from his face, got up and walked over to Dan. As he walked, he could almost hear the humidity ringing in his ears.
“Hey,” John began, “Maybe we ought to just hunt for rabbits or something. They’d probably be easier to catch, and we need something to eat anyway.”
Dan turned to look at John’s face. Dan was used to staring starvation in the face, but he had forgotten that John was merely a struggling artist, with no real experience in roughing it. Surviving in a tough town was nothing in comparison to fighting for food.
“Yeah,” Dan nodded. “Maybe we should. You think there could be a rabbit hole around here?”
John looked about. He took off his cap and perked his ears, listening intently to the sounds of the forest. He heard the sounds of a small animal nearby. For the sake of the hunt, silence was preferred. Instead of verbally directing Dan, he pointed in the direction of the sound.
They creeped across the grass and between the trees, until they finally saw it: a rabbit. It was a rather large bunny, with pepper-colored fur and a pink nose. They could probably have that for a late brunch, and perhaps some left over for dinner. John licked his lips as he thought of cooking some stew.
Dan put a seed on the ground. This was a special invention of his, meant to attract animals. Lately, it hadn’t been working (perhaps due to the humidity), but this was their best shot at getting any food today. It HAD to work.
The seed began to emit a delicious scent that apparently had caught the rabbit’s attention. Dan readied his five-inch knife for the kill as John crouched, ready to pounce on the sucker as it got closer.
At first, the rabbit stood up and smelled the air. Then it began to hop cautiously across the terrain towards the smell. John was getting impatient, the thought of rabbit stew beginning to devour his mind. The rabbit began to hop closer towards them, eager in anticipation of finding the “food”.
Suddenly, the rabbit stopped. It began to look terrified. As it turned and tried to run away as fast as it could, a giant red blur leapt from the nearby trees. It pounced upon the hare and began to tear it apart and feast on its hide.
The monster was nearly 9 feet tall and had to be about twice as long, not including the length of its tail. Its thick fur was red as blood with black zigzagging stripes decorating it like a king’s clothes. Its mane was long, white as snow, and flowed all the way across its back. The monster’s head was larger than a full-grown watermelon, its teeth as long and as sharp as butcher knives. Its legs were thicker than even Dan’s large arms, and its paws were as big as trashcan lids. The eyes and ears granted it a feral appearance, as did its tail, which ended with a white tuft of fur.
A creature that size feasting on a much, much smaller animal like a rabbit was a bit of a picture of desperation: there was no bigger prey around, after all…
Except for John and Dan.
The seed caught the attention of the monster, and its head snapped in the direction of the smell of the seed. The gored remains of the rabbit hung from its mouth like laundry put out to dry. It emitted a low growl that caused the ground to vibrate and the trees to shake. How this creature managed to stay quiet enough for neither the rabbit nor John to detect its presence was a mystery.
John began to shake with fright as the monster stared at the two of them. He had expected this quest to be tough, but it looked more like his quest was about to end in the most gory fashion he would much rather have avoided.
“Don’t move,” Dan whispered. “Its eyesight is based on movement. It can smell the seed, but it can’t smell us.”
“In case you forgot,” John whispered in an impatient tone, “We’re right in front of the seed.”
Much to the dismay of our two heroes, the beast began to lumber towards the scent seed. Dan quickly thought up a plan. Before the beast had time to react, Dan suddenly threw his knife into the creature’s eye.
The monster’s howling caused the environment to warp and their ears to pop. John drew his weapon (A large, razor-sharp Tanuki leaf) and began to run towards the monster. Dan jumped at the thing as it attempted to swipe the knife out of its eye.
Dan’s large body was not nearly enough to keep the monster from moving, so he quickly scrambled onto the thing’s back and clutched onto the furry white mane. The big man had become the itch that couldn’t be reached.
The beast grew very angry with the way this battle was turning out. It roared at a volume John and Dan could feel, and began to shake its body about in attempt to throw Dan off. Dan’s grip began to weaken as it pitched about; its movements stronger than most anything Dan had fought before. Now that he was on the creature’s back, what was he to do?
Meanwhile, John had jumped towards a nearby tree and rebounded off of it like a superball, and landed a smart kick at the knife stuck in the beast’s eye, digging it in further.
The monster had finally had it with his wily prey, and finally flipped over onto its back in an attempt to crush Dan with its own weight. Dan was fortunate enough to be flung off its back before it rolled onto the ground.
He rolled across the ground before stopping nearly twelve feet away from the monster. A bit dizzy from the impact, Dan stood up, readying his other weapon: a small grenade he kept for emergencies.
The monster roared fiercely, once again shaking the trees. Its roar blew Dan off his feet and the grenade out of his hand. “crap!” Dan muttered.
The beast lunged at Dan, its teeth hungry for a taste of the big man’s flesh. Suddenly, a blur shot forth from the side and delivered a gash to the left leg of the beast, spraying its black blood from the open wound. Dan’s eyes followed the blur to see that it was John, flying like a crazed monkey across the grass, bouncing off a tree and back towards him.
“Dan!” John yelled, “Gimme a boost!”
Dan quickly put his huge hands together as John shot straight at him at full speed. The beast was thrown off by the gash on its leg, and attempted to regain its balance. It roared again, this time causing temporary deafness to both Dan and John.
It once again knocked Dan off his feet. John shot towards the beast, and bounced off its face to shut it up. The recoil sent John in Dan’s direction. Dan’s folded hands met with John’s feet, and with all the strength in Dan’s arms, he threw John into the air.
The beast stood up again and began to move toward Dan. Murderous intent was written all over its ugly face. It bared its menacing teeth as it struggled to ready itself for the killing pounce. Dan cracked his knuckles as he got up, ready to die fighting.
In the air, John prepared his “special move”. As a Tanuki, he had the ability to turn his body to stone temporarily. He enabled this ability now, and fell straight down below, landing on the beast’s neck. The sheer power of the blow disconnected its head from the rest of its body, the blood splattering all over John’s stone form and painting the grass an ugly black.
The head flew forward, and landed at Dan’s feet. Its eyes were still open and stuck in a glare. The sight gave Dan the chills.
Dan kicked the head away.
John returned to his normal form, still covered in the beast’s black blood. “Ugh,” he groaned, “This was my only other good shirt.”
Dan walked toward John and folded his arms. “That,” he said, “was some impressive fighting skill. You taught yourself that move?”
John smirked. “I’m a Tanuki,” he replied. “I can turn my body to stone naturally. It comes in handy. Thing is, I never had the heart to use it on anyone. But this was an exception.”
Dan looked over the corpse of the beast, assessing the results. “Hmmm,” he murmured as he looked back at his monster list. “This thing is called a Whitefire Lion. Named after its trademark white mane and fire-colored fur. Valued for its mane, feared for its brutality.”
John began to smile. “What’s the bounty?”
Dan put the list back in his pocket. “Nine hundred Wan. I’d say that’s pretty good. We’ll have enough money to catch a good meal, not to mention the next train to New Jackson. There should be a government facility there that offers protection for a minority people like you.”
John lay down on the grass, tired and dehydrated. He began to fan himself with his leaf as he listened to Dan talk over his plans. “New Jackson’s a big place, right? It’s supposed to be an island town.”
Dan nodded. “Right. Next to the country’s capital, Orsburg D.C., it’s the most politically influential area. There’ll be a government facility there, I know it.”
“Been there before?”
“On one occasion.”
“Really? What was it?”
Dan heaved a sigh. “Nosey, aren’t you?”
John sat up and shrugged. “I can’t help it,” he smiled, “I just love a good story.”
Dan put a hand on his hip. “Well, you’ll have to miss it. It’s none of your damn business, and I don’t want you to ask that question again. Got it?”
John sat there, perplexed. This was a tone he never heard come from Dan before. He must have really struck a sensitive area of Dan’s life. John nodded quickly, agreeing to never ask again.
“All right,” Dan breathed. He looked over at the Whitefire’s corpse. “Now, here’s the million-Wan question: how are we going to lug this thing back to the Monster Hunting Guild’s office?”
John grimaced. Today was still not a good day.


Chapter 4 coming soon. Stay tuned.

[Panique]

Ooh! You update fast.

-stays tuned-

[Agent Smith]

Nice addition PJ, cant wait for the 4th chapter!

[fatherlorris]

how troublesome my eyes hurt. and im not in it yet.