This is a Fanfic about random Nintendo

[Pilgrim John]

graymatter said:

HAHAHAHAHA awesome chapter. Especially love the Lorris pic. XD OWNED!

Anyways, just a suggestion, do you have this archive on your PC? If so, you should make another thread for your whole story, but nobody can comment in there. And maybe tell Jason to link it to the main site or do a speical weekly article featuring a chapter.
archive - story
archive - background (for characters and world)
archive - character bios & images
archive - whatever else i forgot to mention

Actually, no... None of that is actually written down. I keep it all in my head. I'm good at making mental notes.

[benwayshouse]

If RN hosting it isn't possible, you should consider a website! You've got the artwork down, and from what excerpts I've read you certainly have a knack for writing.

[Waffle Monger]

zer0 said:

graymatter said:

HAHAHAHAHA awesome chapter. Especially love the Lorris pic. XD OWNED!

Anyways, just a suggestion, do you have this archive on your PC? If so, you should make another thread for your whole story, but nobody can comment in there. And maybe tell Jason to link it to the main site or do a speical weekly article featuring a chapter.
archive - story
archive - background (for characters and world)
archive - character bios & images
archive - whatever else i forgot to mention

Actually, no... None of that is actually written down. I keep it all in my head. I'm good at making mental notes.

No, what I mean is, not to keep to your head, but to keep everything nice and organized for us the readers.

[Pilgrim John]

Next scene! Chapter Eleven begins! Exclusively about the Dynamite Pirates and the SC guys. Weee!
I also introduce two new villains, Limper and "The Witch Man", whose identity will remain secret for now.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Sounds from the street below could be heard from behind the thin walls that confided this room. It was dank, cruddy, and smelled mildly like spoiled mustard. The light was as thin as the cold, musty air, the room being illuminated and colored by a single lightbulb. Still, it was as good a meeting hall as any, for the limitations this burnt-out burgh were plentiful.
Two mafia men guarded one exit to the room like statues, and two ominously cloaked individuals guarded the other. In the middle of the room were two men at a wooden table, one leaning back on a chair, the other standing up.
The man in the chair was dressed in red, elaborate clothing, gold thread lacing the crimson coat he wore. His red hat had a single green plumed feather sticking out of it, and his leather boots and gloves brown as the earth. His long red hair was tied together in the front, forming a “bang necklace” of sorts, and a strange mask disguised his facial features. He was also tall and slim. You could feel a regal pride emanate from him as he walked, and a sense of fear at the evil and wickedness that seeped from his pores.
The man standing up on the other side of the table was a man befitting the description of the phrase “mad scientist.” His short, spiky orange hair topped his head, with only his eyes visible above the large collar of his long, button-down lab coat. His left eye was long gone, and in its place was a device similar to an eyeball, but was actually a camera. His fingertips were barely visible under the length of the coat’s sleeves.
The scientist gulped, afraid of the man in red sitting before him. He knew what this meeting was about, and that he’d have to wait to bar the good news until after the lecture.
“Dr. Limper,” began the regal man as he began to lazily move a coin around his fingers. The scientist immediately stood up straight. “You’ve been an associate of the Church of Dragmire for quite some time now.” His voice was deep as a well, and was spoken in a foreboding tone.
Limper blinked, trying not to show fear.
“You’ve also been our tie to the Albano crime family for the same length of time. That makes you… somewhat important,” he added as he continued to roll the coin around on his fingers. His gaze fixed upon Limper’s face rather than the coin. “Their control of the town makes it easy for us to pick out sacrificial children, capture slaves for our camps, and enlist extremists as our followers. For that, you have our thanks.”
Limper tried not to breath a sigh of relief. No telling what might offend this guy today.
“However,” he broke as he caught the coin between his finger and his thumb, “as beneficial as servicing pirates and making deals with the mafia is, you yourself have not contributed.” He stopped leaning on his chair and leaned forward, his mask hiding a glare. “None of your searches have any validity as to the whereabouts of the Solomon’s Key. We have searched for it for centuries. Every time you think it you’ve found it, it either turns out to be a dud or is whisked away by some unknown force.”
Limper tried to speak his mind, but before any words could escape his lips, the red man waved his hand to silence him. “This Solomon’s Key… Without it, our Lord cannot walk this earth. He will never know freedom unless we find this key.”
Limper attempted to maintain his composure, but it was proving to be more difficult than he thought.
“Our Lord’s patience diminishes day by day,” he said quietly, thinly disguising his contempt. He put his hand to his chest as he added, “As does mine.”
Limper waited a second, then tried to speak. “Sir, if I may speak freely?”
After a second of staring at Limper coldly, the red man nodded.
“I know I’ve said it before, but I believe I’ve found it,” Limper said, trying not to rush his thoughts. He gulped again and continued. “It has to be. There’s no other explanation as to why my left eye can see it.”
“Yes, yes, I’m sure,” the red man sighed, obviously not taking his word for it. “I know all about your left eye, and how it can see traces of magic. I also happen to know about how the Solomon’s Key is practically a fountain of magical power. And for all I know, you are probably right this time.” His voice did not change throughout the entire speech, his cold, deep voice piercing Limper’s nerves.
Limper bowed low. “Thank you for giving me the benefit of the doubt,” he said quietly.
“That was not a compliment,” the man in red suddenly shouted.
Limper stood up straight again like a flash.
The man in red stared at Limper for the longest time. “You want to take over the Albano family, don’t you? To be the next big boss?”
Limper nodded. It was true that he was jealous of his younger brother Lou, who had become the ninth generation boss of the Albano family. It sickened him to no end that his younger brother was favored over himself, the eldest son. Limper wanted to assassinate him, but the family could easily trace him. He could not depend on converting any of the soldiers of the Albano family to his cause. They were much too loyal to that weakling brother of his.
Then, he had found refuge in the Church of Dragmire, spearhead of the religion of Mephisto. He had formed a pact with the Church of Dragmire that if he were to find them their Solomon’s Key, they’d bump off his younger brother so he could reign.
However, it did not take Limper long to realize that the Church of Dragmire was far more ruthless than the mafia. For his past five failures, he had lost his left hand, had a chunk of flesh removed from his right leg, had his two fingers cut off his right hand, received a cattle prod to his groin, and lost a large number of his teeth. Metal and machinery replaced those missing parts of his now.
“This crummy town, secret from the rest of the country, makes an awfully convenient base for a bigtime mafia boss,” the man in red commented. “However, its secrecy also means that if you’re dead and buried here, no one will notice.”
He stood up and walked the table, facing Limper. Limper tried not to move, as he was so afraid of this guy, he’d probably have tried to run. The man in red was tall, about six-foot five inches in height. He stared down at Limper, who looked up at him, trying to mask his fear.
Suddenly, the man in red grabbed Limper’s head and lifted him up to meet his own face, staring eye to eye. His grip was absolutely insane; for a moment, Limper believed his skull to be collapsing.
The mafia men knew better than to get involved to save Limper. The man in red was in a much higher position than Limper; not to mention that if they tried anything, the Church of Dragmire would immediately cut off their generous marijuana supply to the Albano’s economy.
“Listen to what I am about to tell you carefully,” he whispered to Limper. “If you do not recover this Solomon’s Key by the end of the week, or if it turns out to be a falsehood, I shall kill you in such a way that will leave you begging for a quicker, more painless end.”
And with that, the man dropped Limper onto the ground. Limper lay on his hands and knees, gasping for breath in cold sweat. “As one of the Five Grand Masters, I am known as the Witch Man for a reason,” said the red man. “My magic is far more powerful than the weapons you or your men possess. With the bat of an eyelash, I can sink a whole city into the ground. With the wave of my hand, I can level a mountain.”
He knelt down to look at Limper. “You have no hope to rebel against me. You cannot defeat either the Five Grand Masters of the Church of Dragmire or the will of Lord Mephisto. Rebellion will cost you your life.”
Limper looked into the horrifying mask of the Witch Man. He shivered, hearing a faint breathing from behind the lifeless face he saw before his.
“Pray to Lord Mephisto that he shall bestow mercy upon you if you fail,” the Witch Man warned.

[ruben_gamer4life]

AWSOME!!!!! I want more to read!

[Pilgrim John]

Scene 2. Turns out, it's too long for one post, so I'll divide it into two.

The room erupted like a volcano, chaos dominating the air. The pirate captain drew his sword as he dashed towards his quarry, the Sansa’s huge fist threatened to crush their heads, and the female pirate’s guns weren’t looking any friendlier.
Gray figured that no number of words could convince them that what transpired in the sky the day before was nothing but a misunderstanding, so he picked up a chair, ready to fight. He knew that his friends, with no real fighting experience, ever had a hope to win, but dying without fighting first was pure wimpitude.
As Captain Jim lunged at Grey, sword drawn, Smith had leapt in the way. A clang and a flash later, and Gray saw the Captain’s face frozen in surprise. In Smith’s hands was a sword, probably removed from the decorative shield on the wall.
“Huh?!” Jim exhaled. Smith quickly formed a fist with his free left hand and plunged it into Jim’s stomach. The pirate bent over, out of breath from the blow, and reeled backward.
Gray blinked, trying to make sure that it was really Smith who had defended him. “Smith?” Gray asked, “You know how to swordfight?”
“Yes,” Smith responded. Smith’s eyes didn’t leave Jim, but he was clearly speaking to Gray. “I’ve been studying fencing since I was six.”
“So why didn’t you bring a sword or something to fight with?” asked Gray as he wrinkled his nose.
Smith huffed, irritated with Gray’s nagging. “If I knew that I’d be fighting pirates yesterday,” he growled, “I’d have brought it.”
Meanwhile, Jason peered behind the reception desk he was hiding behind with Leet and Bronco. He could see the little Mexican guy running around, trying to dodge the Sansa’s heavy swings and punches. He felt like cheering them on, but then again, this really wasn’t a TV fight.
“What do we do?” asked Bronco. His dark skin was beaded with sweat, and a look of fear was present in his eyes. “They’re tearing up the place!”
Leet adjusted her thick glasses, trying to think of something they could do. “I hate to suggest the idea,” she said, “but maybe we should call the Albano—”
“No,” Bronco shot, “they’ll just end up making it worse.”
As they argued, Ruben dodged Symphonic’s arm swing and answered it with an uppercut to his chin. The blue furball was sent for a loop, after which he glared at his opponent. Symphonic jumped into the air and readied his Cursed Left into a threatening chop formation.
Just like in some corny action anime, Symphonic bellowed the name of his attack. “HEAVENLY CHOP!”
As he yelled the word “chop”, his Cursed Left fell down like a hammer, aiming for Ruben’s head. Ruben sidestepped in an attempt to dodge, but was knocked over by the gravity of the blow. He was flung across the room and hit the wall.
Symphonic bared his sharp teeth, ready to sink them into Ruben’s face if he woke up. Suddenly, he felt a sharp blow land on his head from behind. He turned to see the strange nun-like kid, holding his magic stave as if to use it as a baseball bat.
The canine jumped at Christopher immediately, ready to crush him with his Cursed Left. However, Christopher proved to be much more nimble than he appeared: with a little hop to the left, he dodged the blow completely. He shot a small fireball from the tip of his stave, which smacked Symphonic in the chest.
Symphonic smelled burned fur and felt a horrible pain in his chest. “Oh!” Christopher exclaimed in horror, “I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to go overboard like that.”
But Symphonic was already defeated. He crashed onto the floor with a loud thump. Horrified by what he’d done, Christopher began to cast a healing spell on his unfortunate victim.
Panique had been trying to get a bead on one of the enemies without endangering her colleagues, but since the other two liked to move around a lot, it was difficult to get a clear shot. But now that she saw an opening to the fat nun-boy, she aimed her gun readily for his head.
Just as she was about to pull the trigger, her partner Jim had been knocked into her from her left, knocking her over and messing up the shot. The bullet landed into a wall near Christopher, who gasped and ducked behind a chair.
“We need to stop this!” Bronco demanded.
“Any ideas?” Jason harrumphed. “It isn’t like we can just ask them to stop. They’re pirates.”
Gray’s eyes darted about. He just noticed that for the past few minutes, he hadn’t done anything. Smith and Christopher were busy fighting the remaining two pirates, and here he was standing around gawking like a retard in a cheese factory.
Suddenly, Jim knocked Smith over with his shoulder and darted straight for Gray. Panique belted Smith across the face, and planted her foot on his back between his shoulders, preventing him from moving. She aimed one of her guns at the back of his head. Smith froze as he heard a threatening click of the gun’s hammer.
Meanwhile, Jim run towards Gray with a spiteful, twisted sneer. The pirate’s one good eye burned with an ugly hatred and bore a hole in Gray’s face. Jim raised his sword, ready to plunge it into his target.
Gray remembered something all of a sudden. The bell that Estabella had given him earlier… Could it…?
Gray had zero time to think, as the distance between himself and angry Jim was quickly growing short. He reached into his coat pocket for the bell, but as he put his hand around it, he felt that the bell was… warm? Like it was radioactive or something. He pulled it out of his pocket, and was in for a shock when it suddenly burst into a bright flash.
A loud bang and a blinding light startled the room and all within it for about a second or two. When it cleared, Gray looked at his bell and saw that its size had increased drastically. It was almost as big as Gray himself, but wasn’t any heavier than when it was small. Gray noticed he was holding onto a long, thick, seven-link chain that connected the giant bell to an iron ball on the other end.
Was this a weapon? Gray looked at Jim, who was suddenly intimidated. Gray held tight to the chain, sliding his left hand closer to the iron ball and his right closer to the bell. The words “Good Luck” shone brightly as he brandished it threateningly at his pirate adversary.
Jim suddenly wasn’t intimidated, but rather, in awe. “That’s…” He began, pointing at the bell. Panique looked equally mystified. Suddenly, large scowls spread across their faces. “That’s Estabella’s bell!” Jim shouted finally.
Gray blinked in surprise. “You know Estabella?”
“Thief! Murderer!” Jim accused, pointing his finger at Gray. “What did you do to Estabella?!” he demanded.
Symphonic suddenly regained consciousness and started pulling himself up off the floor. “Estabella? What’s wrong with her? What happened?”
Smith, quick to act, forced his body upwards, knocking a distracted Panique off-balance. He rolled to his right, grabbed his sword, and tripped Panique with his left leg. Panique’s petite figure landed flat on the floor with a soft thud. Smith immediately got up again and shoved his foot into Panique’s stomach and held his sword at Panique’s face in traditional fencing fashion of victory.
Symphonic, angrier than hornets from a fallen nest, leapt at Gray. “WHAT DID YOU DO WITH HER?!” he bellowed. His left hand made it kind of hard to run, though, so he looked clumsy and unfocused in his anger.
Gray jumped and swung the bell down towards Symphonic’s face. Symphonic held his Cursed Left up to protect his face, grabbing the bell mid-swing. From the force of his swing, Gray had been pulled in an arc by the bell. His foot landed on Symphonic’s back, loosening the canine’s grip on the bell. As Symphonic let go, Gray swung the bell again, this time in a sideways arc to smack Symphonic across the room.
With a loud gong, Symphonic was launched to the other side of the room. He had switched his position mid-flight, however, and jumped off the wall, propelling himself with the force in his Cursed Left. He sailed straight back at Gray, who readied his giant bell again for another round.
Meanwhile, Jim had switched targets to Smith in order to help Panique. Interrupting his charge however was Christopher, who jumped him from behind a chair. The nun-dressed youngster blocked his path and brandished his stave threateningly. Jim swung his sword in an overhead arc, which Christopher sidestepped to avoid. Jim continued his assault with a sideways arc, but Christopher deflected it with his stave.
Suddenly, Jim felt two arms wrap around his waist and lift his short frame up. “What?!” Jim shrieked. Suddenly, he saw the world go up, around, and then down as he was suplexed hard onto the ground by Ruben, who had sneaked up from behind.
Symphonic grabbed the bell with his Cursed left again, but grabbed onto Gray with his right hand. “Talk!” he growled. “What did you do with my cousin, Estabella?!”
“I’m fine,” came a voice from the door. Everyone turned to see none other than Estabella herself standing in the door. She was leaning on one side of it like a gangster, sans the flipping of a coin in her hand. “What is the meaning of this, Symphonic?” she asked. “Why are you harming my friends?”

[Pilgrim John]

Symphonic felt ashamed. He let go of Gray and his giant bell, letting them both drop to the ground with a thud. Smith was now confident enough to release Panique, who demurely crawled backward until she finally stood back up. Jim, on the other hand, was still unconscious from the suplex he had received earlier.
“They’re your friends?” Symphonic asked, confused. “You DO know that they shot us down, right?” He knew she wasn’t there when it happened, but hey, she was a fortuneteller, a seer of the future and events happening elsewhere. It’s not like she couldn’t have known…
“Yes, I know,” she said, leaving the doorway and entering the establishment, “but remember that it was your foolhardy captain who had jumped to conclusions. They only defended themselves.” She folded her arms, awaiting Symphonic’s response.
It was odd, really. Just a moment ago, Symphonic was like a raging bear, but now, he was acting as meek and embarrassed as a child. It must have been that the adrenaline had subsided, leaving him tired and depressed. Stupid chemical structure.
Panique was equally ashamed. She and Symphonic ran up to Gray and his friends, who had grouped at one end of the room, and bowed down low on their hands and knees. “We’re so sorry!” they said, almost in unison. “We didn’t understand the situation! Please forgive us!”
Being apologized to by a pirate, of all sub-society members, was awkward, to say the least. After a stunned moment, Gray attempted to sound as leaderly as he possibly could, but ended up just stammering. Smith impatiently smacked the back of Gray’s head. “Speak up!” demanded Smith.
Finally, Gray said, “Uh, sure, we forgive you.” The two pirates sighed in relief. “But,” Gray continued, “the fact remains that we destroyed your ship and that you’ve caused us a lot of trouble.”
Symphonic and Panique looked at each other strangely. “So, what do you think we should do about it?” Panique asked innocently.
Gray began to think hard about this question, but due to the recent excitement, he was unable to conjure anything slightly helpful. Christopher’s face suddenly beamed, and he snapped his fingers as if an excellent idea suddenly housed itself in his head. “Why don’t we take you out to dinner?” he suggested.
Both his friends and the pirates groaned.
Estabella walked up to Jim and helped him up to his feet. “Are you all right?” she asked. Jim groaned, but nodded and gave her a thumbs-up. “I’ve been in better shape,” he responded.
The pirate captain stretched his aching muscles and walked over to his crew. “Really now, you think dinner’s just gonna magically fix all the damage?” he snorted.
Christopher’s beam suddenly slumped and fell. “But I thought it was a great idea,” he said in a thin, weak voice.
Jim looked at the foursome with a piercing eye and folded his arms. After about thirty seconds, he twiddled his mustache thoughtfully. “This is one of those rare moments where I just don’t know what to think,” he sighed as he strolled across the ground, not letting his eyes leave Gray or his friends.
“On the one hand,” he continued, holding his hook in the air, “you four have caused us a lot of trouble and roughly 10K in damages.”
Gray gulped. “But that was just a misunderstanding!” Ruben objected defiantly.
“I realize that,” Jim growled. He held his left hand into the air. “But on the other hand, it’s a misunderstanding, plus it’s now apparent that you all are the friends of the only trustworthy woman in this godforsaken piss-hole of a town.”
He looked to his crew, who were still on their knees, looking back up at their captain. “What do you two think we should do?”
Symphonic mused thoughtfully, and Panique stared at the ceiling as if the answer had been written there. After a moment, Panique sighed quietly, with Symphonic shrugging his shoulders. Jim clicked his tongue, disappointed in his crew. Then again, they’d all just gotten out of an adrenaline-rushed battle, so they were temporarily brain-dead.
Jason and his subordinates had come out from their hiding hole by now, and were investigating damages. The blonde-haired engineer put his hands on his hips thoughtfully. “I remember you,” he said, pointing to Jim. “You were one of my father’s last customers before…” Jason’s voice trailed off and he hung his head low.
Jim’s one good eye snapped open in disbelief. Symphonic and Panique were equally shaken. “He’s dead?!” Jim gasped. Jason nodded grimly. “H-He can’t be dead. I mean, he was old, sure, but he was as healthy as a horse!”
Jim continued like this for about twenty minutes. Jason breathed and let Jim finish his rant of denial. After which, Jason stared back at the pirate, and quipped, “Look. This town is run by the Albano crime family. They’re unbelievably cruel. They decapitated a six-year-old in public last week for not bowing before the statue of Guiliano Albano, which is located in the town square.”
Jason let the shock of the news hit them, then continued. “My father tried to save this town by alerting the government to our predicament. They found out, intercepted his email, and killed him in public as well.” He sniffed in a disgusted manner as he clenched his teeth. “As an example to all who’d question the totalitarian authority of the Albanos.”
Panique scratched her chin in thought. “Hey,” she asked, “didn’t the government abandon this town a long time ago?”
Leet answered her question. “This might be government property,” said Leet as she adjusted her coke-bottle frames, “but the government doesn’t even know of our existence.”
Gray was confused. “But if that’s true,” he inquired, “then how can you get all these conveniences, like water or electricity?”
Jim sighed and shook his head. “What’re ya dabbling on about?” he asked, impatient. “Learning the history of this pitiful town won’t get us anywhere!”
Suddenly, the door opened as Zellow returned with the doughnuts. Surprised, he looked around at the new guests and grimaced at all the damage that he knew he’d have to fix later.
“Uh,” he slowly began, “Did I miss something?”
Estabella walked over to Zellow and helped him with the donuts. “Yes,” she began, thinking quickly for the words, “We were all going to sit down and think out our current crisis.”
Zellow, now a little more confused than when he had first walked in, set the donuts on a nearby table. He flipped up a knocked-over chair and sat down on it. “OK,” he said, tired of being in the dark, “What IS the crisis?”
Gray and Jim took turns filling Zellow in on what had happened during his absence. After which, Zellow leaned back on his chair and hung his right arm behind the chair’s head. “That’s quite a story,” Zellow breathed. “So now I take it you’re both stuck here for the time being?”
The pirates and the teenagers all nodded.
Zellow looked at his employer, who had been listening in. “You owe this pirate guy—”
“Jim,” the captain corrected.
“Jim,” Zellow followed, “You owe Jim a debt because of his father, right?”
Jason made a strange face. “I do?” he asked, utterly lost.
Jim’s mustache turned fuzzy, a telltale sign of his vast impatience. “YES, YOU DO!” he shouted, waving his right hand in the air. He calmed down, and continued. “Your father, Cid… And my father, Captain Climont…”
Jason’s eyes widened. “Captain Climont was your father?!” he asked. Suddenly, he acted like a geek who had just run into his favorite sci-fi movie actor and began to interview Jim. “My father told me all about him! They used to work together! You’re his son? That’s unbelievable!”
The rest of the room was bewildered, surprised by the unexpected outburst. Jason suddenly stopped and shrunk in his place, embarrassed. “Uh, yeah,” laughed Jason nervously, “those were the days, huh? How is your father anyway?”
“He’s doin’ fine,” said Jim with a somewhat sarcastic tone, “sleeping in his grave. Died a valiant death, he did.” He looked down at the pocket watch he kept in his pocket. “Died saving the lives of his crew.”
Gray pursed his lips. The common misconception of pirates, he now knew, was that they were all “adventurous, sloppy, and gung-ho.” But as it turned out, it seemed that pirates were indeed human after all, complete with their own failures, shortcomings, and insecurities.
Jason nodded, as if he expected as much. “I thought so.” He breathed in and started again. “So, you want me to fix your ship?”
Jim shook his head. “Our ship…” He looked toward his crew, who by now had stood up. “The Dynamite Rave… was destroyed, and by these…” He raised his hand to Gray and his friends. “These… These kids.” It seemed as though Jim was much too embarrassed that he’d been defeated by a non-pirate, and mere adolescents, at that.
Bronco interjected. “So, what would you like us to do for you?” Before Jim could continue, the tan-skinned man interrupted, “And let me remind you that we’re a business here; we don’t do charity.”
Jason raised his hand to quiet his subordinate. “Look, just ask me for anything, and I’ll do it.”
Bronco was absolutely horrified by his employer’s conduct. “B-But, Jason,” he argued, “If we don’t generate any revenue, the Albanos are gonna get suspicious!”
Jim nodded, “He has a point. I don’t want to get you in trouble, Jason, not because you owe my family a life debt.”
Panique frowned. She began to twiddle her fingers nervously. “But we don’t have any money to afford repairs, much less another ship,” said Panique, “We came here thinking that we could get it done for free.”
What a dilemma. It certainly appeared that they were all stuck, trapped and being strangled by the situation. What were they all to do? What could possibly be done to remedy their problem?
Suddenly, Estabella stood up from the chair she had seated herself on. She reached into her blouse pocket and withdrew a small bag of money. Jim huffed. “Not to sound rude,” he said, “but I don’t think chump change will do.”
Estabella opened the bag and withdrew rolls of bills. The group was wide-eyed as they watched the Sansa fortune-teller unfold over thousands of Wan. Most shocked of all was none other than Symphonic. “How’d you get all that money?”
“Fortune-telling is my profession,” she stated coolly to her cousin. “The Albano family realized my talents and often have me foretell their future so they can keep themselves in the black.”
“How come you never told me?” Symphonic protested. “I’m your cousin, you know? The only family member you have who visits you…” His voice became quiet as he added, “Or accepts you.”
Estabella suddenly stopped pulling Wan out of her purse. Not being able to face Symphonic, she licked her lips as she frowned, saddened. Realizing what he’d done, Symphonic quickly apologized, “I’m sorry, Esta, I didn’t mean to bring that up again.”
Estabella held tight to her money as she tried to straighten out her face. Gray and the others felt uncomfortable, watching this family drama play out. To interrupt the moment and relieve the tension, Jim walked up to Estabella.
They were about the same height, now that Grey looked at them. Jim whispered something that Gray couldn’t make out to Estabella. After which, she quickly handed him her money and stormed out.
Symphonic’s face fell and his long ears drooped. He followed his cousin outside, in an attempt to apologize to her. Everyone else decided that, because it was a family affair, that it was best to leave the two of them alone.
“Okay,” Smith said, raising his hands. “We got the money. Can you repair the Captain Jack?” he asked Jason.
Jim handed the money to Bronco to let him count it. After about a minute of counting, Bronco answered, “There isn’t enough here for a repair.”
The pirates were becoming more irritated. “What do you want from us?!” shrieked Panique as she grabbed Bronco by the collar and jostled him. “Our souls? OUR IMMORTAL SOULS?!”
“Pani, that’s enough,” sighed Jim. “You can accept that as a down payment. We’ll line the rest to you.”
Although down payments were casual and common to the rest of the world, it seemed that it was often avoided here in Highwind. Gray mused as to why, but the only answer that came to mind was that lining the rest of the payment would lead to government involvement—precisely what the Albanos would have liked to avoid.
“All right!” cheered Christopher as he leapt up and down, clapping his hands. “That means we can fly home!”
Panique glared at Christopher, forcing his celebration to a slow, grinding halt. His smile faded to a depressed sulk. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” Panique asked. “We’re helping you out by letting them fix your ship.”
Jim took a deep breath and forced his chest out. “Precisely. We’re paying you back for the ruckus we caused you…” He walked toward Gray’s group. “So, in return, you’re going to give us your ship.”
Gray and his friends were horrified. “Th-That’s not fair!” Ruben roared. “You’re the ones who attacked us! You DESERVED what you got!”
Gray sighed. As it turned out, pirates were just dirty dealers through and through.
“Oh, don’t cause a fuss,” Jim defended as he held up his hooked hand. “We’ll drop you off in your hometown, back to your parents and homes and whatever.”
But it appeared that they were not in any position to argue. Despite that they held their own pretty well before, these pirates now knew what Gray and his friends were capable of. Most likely, they had already developed ways to counter their abilities.
What a shame, Gray thought. The Captain Jack was one of the best things that had ever happened to their lives, and now it was going to slip through their fingers. Although going home sounded good right about now, seeing the last of their beloved ship was too heartbreaking a thought.
Suddenly, they all heard a ringing, like a cell phone. After the second or third ring, Christopher noticed that it was his cell phone that had been going off. He checked the caller ID. “It’s Alex!” he exclaimed.
After a few more seconds, Smith finally proposed, “Okay, so are you going to answer him or not?”
Christopher gasped. “Oh,” he breathed, embarrassed. Christopher answered Pajitnov’s call, greeting him with his chirpy attitude. “HELLO!” he chimed.
“K-Kids? You there?”
Pajitnov’s voice had this fearful tremble that was completely alien to Christopher. “What’s wrong?” Christopher asked.
Pajitnov continued, still in the midst of a panic. “Look, I’m afraid I don’t have much time. Christopher, are your friends listening in?”
Christopher motioned for his friends to come closer. “Yeah, they’re listening,” Christopher confirmed.
“OK, Gray, Smith, Ruben, and Christopher: don’t come home!”
The group was confused, to say the least. “What’s going on?” Christopher demanded.
After a small silence, Pajitnov continued. “About two hours ago, a fleet of ships came into Figaro. They started blowing down the place, searching for you!”
“Searching for us?” Smith asked.
At this point, it was obvious why Pajitnov was afraid. “They’re combing the place, searching for any trace of you! If you come home now, they’ll find you, and God knows what would happen next!” Pajitnov’s voice began to crack at the words “find” and “next”.
“Why?” asked Ruben, “Who’s doing this?”
They all heard Pajitnov gulp. “From the looks of the ships, it looks like the United Federal Providences own military! Why they’re doing this is beyond me!”
“What about our parents?” Gray demanded. “What’s happened to them?”
“They were arrested earlier for questioning by the military, as to your whereabouts. I think it’s obvious that they won’t be divulging any information about you.”
There was a pause from all of them, not sure how to deal with this newer, deadlier hand that fate had dealt them. It seemed that their normal lives were not hard to get back to anymore—they were now impossible to regain.
“You still there?” Pajitnov asked in a hurried panic. “Look, I’m sorry I got you entangled with all this.”
“What do you mean?” Christopher asked, trying not to cry out of fear.
“When I gave you the Captain, it was out of honest thanks for your bravery. But I did not plan on these fiends’ involvements.” Gray was confused, at least more than he was before. “What?” he asked. “What are you talking about?”
“I have reason to believe,” Pajitnov hissed quickly, “that these people aren’t the military, but a faction of government agents working under the influence of an outside force. They are searching for something, something important to them, and it is apparent that you four have it!”
Another pause. This was too much to handle, especially since they were all barely old enough to hold a driver’s license. Why would something like this happen to people so young?
Pajitnov continued once more, attempting to finish the call. “I’m sorry, children, but time grows short! I don’t know what you should do now, being on the run from an unseen force.”
“No,” whispered Christopher weakly. “What’s going on?”
Christopher could hear Pajitnov sigh over the other line. “Kids, don’t lose your resolve! You’ve gotten this far! Staying together now will be your only means of survival! You’ve got to have the strength to keep going, no matter what! Escape to another country if you have to, but don’t let them catch you—and most importantly, DON’T GIVE IN TO YOUR FEARS!”
Suddenly, just as Pajitnov said “fears,” the four heard a door slam open.
Then gunfire.
Then silence…

[ruben_gamer4life]

DAMN I feel so cool. ITS A CLIFFHANGER! NO!!

[Pilgrim John]

Come on, people... Why's it so quiet around here all of a sudden?
Here's the End of Chapter Eleven. As of this writing, I am now officially over 100 pages! YAY!

The noon sun shined high in the sky, but not a soul could see its radiant beauty behind the dirty clouds that hung over Highwind. The dilapidated buildings were colored with filth, and the streets smeared with grime.
Such was the physical ugliness of the town, but it did not compared to what went on deeper inside.
Estabella stood at the front of Jason’s repair dealership building, her arms folded and her face grim. She looked at the pathetic souls of Highwind: one mugging an elderly couple down the street, two friends fighting over the last piece of food they had, a child throwing a brick through a store owner’s window… Was this really a town she wanted to be in? As she thought about it, she wondered why Highwind was such a magnet to drifters.
Suddenly, Estabella heard footsteps come from behind her. She grabbed hold of her knife located in her pocket, then turned to see her cousin Symphonic, who had followed her out of the store.
“Hey,” he greeted, unaware that his cousin was about to stab him.
Estabella let go of her knife and returned her arms to their previous folded state. She looked away from her cousin, her blue hair getting caught in the wind.
“Listen,” said Symphonic, unsure of how to begin his apology. “Um…”
“Don’t bother apologizing,” Estabella murmured. She looked back at Symphonic, her eyes falling on his Cursed Left arm. She blinked and tried to gain eye contact with her cousin, not wanting to offend him. He was very self-conscious about his left arm, and for good reason.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have taken what you said the wrong way,” she continued. She walked over to her cousin, looking down on him. He was about three inches shorter than she was, which was short even by Sansa standards. She tried to hide her pity for Symphonic in her eyes, but it was obvious her cousin could see it.
After a brief silence, Symphonic swallowed and accused, “You didn’t make all that money through fortune-telling. Where did you get it?”
Symphonic, ever the trooper, was again trying to ignore sympathy for his affliction. Estabella found it difficult to explain to her cousin, but she knew that he had to know.
Embarrassed, Estabella spoke very quietly. “My fortune-telling business is in poor condition, it’s true,” she whispered, looking away from Symphonic once again.
“Look at me,” Symphonic commanded.
Estabella’s eyes came to his again, this time, filled with grief rather than pity. “So… I…” The difficulty to admit her sin was almost too much to bear. She clenched her teeth and sniffled, trying not to cry. Suddenly, she felt Symphonic’s right hand grab hers and gave it a comforting squeeze.
“It’s all right,” Symphonic assured. “You can tell me.”
Estabella looked into her cousin’s golden-orange eyes, studying them. What a cousin I have, she thought. Never allowing others to worry about him, but always trying to help others. She disliked pirates a great deal, but that didn’t mean there weren’t any shining stars among the bunch.
“The members of the Albano crime family often come to me for…” she gulped as she finished her sentence. “…Prostitution.”
A long, solemn frown crept across Symphonic’s lips. Although Estabella expected his eyes to be filled with disappointment and shame, she saw… sympathy.
“I can’t explain why I did it,” she whispered. “I needed the money. I wouldn’t have been able to survive without it…” Her lovely voice began to break as tears filled her eyes.
Symphonic squeezed her hand again, trying to calm her down. After all, they were in public. “Esta…” said Symphonic, “What has this town done to you?”
Estabella looked down at her cousin again, forcing herself to smile despite her pain. She gave her cousin a strong hug, thanking him for his sympathy. She felt better now that someone she trusted knew the truth.
Symphonic whispered into her ear. “When our tribe banished you, I was only ten… They banished you because you foresaw an ugly future. Their superstitions blinded them from seeing that you’re a good person at heart.”
It was true: the Sansa culture involved many ideas deemed superstitious by most human societies. One of them included the idea that if one of their seers foresaw an ill omen that they had to be banished in order to avert that omen. It was because of things like that that Symphonic had become skeptical to his own culture—even though he had been born and raised in that tribe, just as Estabella had been.
“But,” Symphonic continued, “even now, you’re still a good person.” He parted from Estabella and waved his right hand to the streets. “It’s this awful town. Overrun by crime and filth.”
Estabella’s ears drooped. “That’s nice of you to say, Symphy, but I’m hardly an angel.” Symphonic looked again at Estabella as she continued her speech. “But by being here, I’ve learned something: that I’m responsible for my own actions. I decided to go along with it, despite knowing what its after-effects on my mental health. That is my sin.”
She folded her arms again, not out of triumph, but of defeat. “Not this town’s. It has its own sins.”
Symphonic studied his cousin thoughtfully. Even though he offered her his reassurance, she was still ready to accept the responsibility of her own actions. That only proved she was the good person Symphonic took her for.
Suddenly, an idea came to him. “Why don’t you come with us?”
A strange look appeared on Estabella’s face. “Huh?” she asked.
“You’ll only suffer more if you stay here,” he explained. “If we can smuggle you out of here, you can come with us!”
Estabella hushed her cousin as his voice began to grow louder. Although it was a great idea, it wouldn’t prove too useful if one of the Albano’s henchmen heard it. Symphonic made sure no one was listening, then continued. “I don’t want you to get hurt any more. We should have done this a long time ago.”
“You take me out of here,” Estabella warned, “and the Albanos will hunt you down.”
Symphonic looked into his cousin’s eyes and grinned an impish grin. In addition to being kind, he was also the ornery type, Estabella knew. To him, challenging the mafia would just be another adventure.
“Don’t get like that,” Estabella hissed. “They’re going to kill you.”
“I’ve survived worse,” Symphonic assured.
Estabella rolled her eyes, knowing that arguing with him was useless. She didn’t bother trying to conjure an argument that could convince him, since he was stubborn. She decided it was best to play along for now, then bring up the idea to his captain and see what he had to say.
After a second or two, Estabella folded her arms and laughed. It felt good, especially after her current grief. What was she worried about, anyway? Whether she died or left this armpit of a town, she’d still be able to leave.
After a few moments, they noticed people were looking at them funny. The two Sansa giggled like children as they re-entered the building, relieved from their current scenario.

* * * * * *

In all his life, Jim had never seen anyone look as grim as the combined melancholy of these four teens. He looked to Panique who, upon gazing at their sorry sight, had a long, saddened frown. Jim clicked his tongue and began to nervously twiddle his mustache, trying to think of something to say.
He hadn’t heard exactly what was going on on the other line of their phone conversation, but he distinctly heard gunfire at the end. Anything that ends with bullets was bound to be grave news, Jim knew from experience. More than likely, he assumed, their passage home had been forcibly canceled.
After a few minutes, Jason dared to ask “the question”. “What happened?”
Suddenly, Gray snapped back into alert mode, angry and frustrated by this sudden turn of events. He furiously knocked a chair over and kicked it across the room. Christopher merely whimpered, trying not to cry, while Ruben remained solemn. Smith had walked away from the foursome, and was currently looking through the window.
It was a terrible time, they knew. Home was now a faraway dream, their fantasy of flying ships and pirate battles the new reality. The shift between what was real and what was surreal was harsh, sudden, and obviously planned.
Panique felt sorry for Gray and his friends. She motioned for Jim to follow her to the corner of the room. Once there, she began to whisper.
“Captain, don’t you think they’ve been through enough?”
“What are you talking about?” her Captain responded at a soft volume.
Panique motioned her hand at them. “We tried to kill them, now they have nowhere to go…” A sad look enveloped her face. Even her hat looked depressed.
Jim sighed. “What,” he asked, “do you want us to ‘adopt’ them or something?”
Suddenly, Panique’s eyes brightened. She nodded slowly as she came to a realization. “Why not?” Her frown had quickly become a smile. “Why can’t we make them join our crew?”
Jim blinked a few times. He twiddled his mustache, weighing the options. First, ever since his father had passed away, his crew had been dissolving until it was just down to himself, Panique, and his expert mechanic, Symphonic. Second, he needed a bigger crew if he hoped to fully run the Captain Jack. Although none of those boys looked like they knew a ship from a cow, he supposed that they could be taught. And besides, it seemed like they had nowhere to go from here.
Jim nodded, causing Panique to cheer noiselessly. “But,” he interrupted, “we’ll have to run the idea by them first. No gain for us if they’re shanghaied.”
Panique nodded. They broke from their corner and came back to the foursome. Jim cleared his throat. “Attention,” he called. The despaired children looked up to Jim as he put his arms behind his back and assumed a very leader-ish pose. “As of our acquisition to the Captain, I believe we’ll need some extra deck hands. Are you four up for the job, ready to defend the Captain from harm like she was your mother?”
The four nodded. Gray straightened up his jacket. “You’re letting us stay with you?”
Jim peered at Gray through glazed eyes. “Nooooooooooooooooooooo,” he answered slowly. “You’re going to WORK for me.”
Christopher gasped in horror. “We’re joining a pirate crew?”
Smith groaned. “Do we have any other choice? If we don’t, we’re stuck in this crap-hole, most likely for good.” He looked at the sword he had used earlier, now laying on the ground. He picked it up again and swung it once or twice, sharpening his fencing. He looked at it thoughtfully as he said, “We haven’t got anything to lose. I’m in.”
Christopher’s eyes looked like they were about to run screaming from the scene. “Smith, don’t!” Christopher warned his friend. “They’re pirates! They’re bad and they’re smelly!”
“Hey!” Panique objected, pouting and glaring. Jim shrugged and scoffed.
“Count me in, too,” Ruben demanded. Christopher squawked in utter terror at the willingness of his friends to go against the law.
“What’s WITH you guys?!” Christopher shrieked. “They’re pirates! They’re criminals!”
“Yeah, yeah,” Jim sneered, waving his good hand. “So we break the law. But to us, the law just ain’t worth abiding by.”
“He’s got a point there,” Gray said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
“GRAY! NOT YOU TOO!” Christopher begged as he went onto his knees. He sunk his head low in front of Gray, quickly begging him to stop.
“Chris,” Gray sighed, “Think about it.” Christopher raised his head to meet Gray’s eyes. “The military just invaded our home and killed a bunch of people. You really want to abide by a government that’s turned into a puppet?”
Christopher sighed. It was true, but still, breaking the law and going against the government was something of a cardinal sin to Christopher. But then again, maybe he could find out what this “unseen force” wanted, and then change the government and the law back to what it once was!
Besides, it was either be a pirate or be stuck in this town that served crappy donuts and had bad plumbing, and Lord knew that Christopher disliked bad donuts.
Gray folded his arms. “I guess it’s unanimous,” he stated, “We’re in, ‘Captain.’”
After a moment, Jim laughed a deep, throaty laugh. “That’s more like it!” he exclaimed. He wished he could clap, but his hooked hand negated that option.
Symphonic and Estabella had returned now, wondering what the cheering was about. Before Symphonic could pose the question, however, Panique had run over to him and picked him up off his feet. She began to dance around with him joyfully, much to Symphonic’s embarrassment.
“Get off!” Symphonic demanded. Panique finally let go of her friend, who landed on the ground with a thud. “Guess what!” Panique chirped, clapping her hands together. She grinned like a schoolgirl as Symphonic stood back up, groaning at Panique’s impudence. Symphonic rolled his eyes. “What?” he asked, which was precisely what he wanted to ask from the beginning.
“We’ve got new crew recruits!” Panique cheered, jumping and adding a “yay”.
Symphonic looked to his captain, who nodded in agreement.
Jim walked over to Jason, who along with his friends felt left out because they mostly ignored this chapter. “So, Mr. Jason Archwell,” Jim began, “We have the money and the crew. I believe it’s your turn to get to work.”

* * * * * *

Somewhere in the middle of Highwind, there was a factory. Not so big as to attract attention, mind you, but just big enough to hide a horrible secret from the rest of the town.
Inside this factory, Limper gazed down on his life’s work. He gazed at it the way a father admires his son. It was the answer to his woes, or at least he hoped. He knew that the Solomon’s Key would not be given up so easily, so he’d have to threaten its owners until they gave it. If push came to shove, then his “baby” could settle the dispute.
He truly wished his influence in the Albano family were more extensive, otherwise he’d not need to use his inventions so promiscuously to do his dirty work. Not that he didn’t enjoy siccing his robots on some unsuspecting fool, but he’d rather it be kept discreet, like the mafia was renowned for.
Limper looked at his metal hand. Although it was shaped like his original hand, it was nothing like it. It had the power to crush and destroy things easily, but its cost was more of an annoyance. He could not grip things so well anymore, leaving his left hand to feed, clothe, and work.
His thoughts of hatred came to the person who had robbed him of his right hand: the Witch Man. Second only to his younger brother, the Witch Man deserved such contempt, thought Limper. Everything he did for that damned wretch, and the best thing that had happened to him was that he was able to live this long.
But that would prove to be a deadly mistake on the Witch Man’s part, he thought. Soon, he’d have the Solomon’s Key. And soon after, he’d initiate his plan to kill the Witch Man, and stuff that arrogant fool of a brother down into the same grave. Maybe he’d position the bodies so that they looked like they were screwing each other. They might as well have been lovers in life: they had so much in common.
As for the Witch Man’s mask, Limper supposed he’d hang as a mantelpiece above his fireplace. The perfect trophy, he believed, for achieving a perfect victory.
Limper once again looked down upon his prodigy. This was the answer to his problems. After attaining the Solomon’s Key with it (By force), he’d use it crush those two annoying insects that had bothered him for too long. He could always claim it was an accident, of course, and get away with it.
Now all he had to do was locate the Solomon’s Key. The rest of the world would then be in his grasp. And Limper smiled, thinking of the sweet taste of victory.

[Agent Smith]

Awesome, great story pj, really captivating!!

i cant wait for the next installment!

[ruben_gamer4life]

you get this published!

[benwayshouse]

o.0 That was a weird chapter. Nice writing, btw.

[fatherlorris]

next installment is taking a while.
but I can wait.

[Pilgrim John]

Well, it's taking so long because

a) I just got a Wii and have been neglecting to write,
b) I haven't had much initiative to writing or drawing this past week, and
c) my brother keeps hogging the computer.

But I hope you guys hang in there. I've already got the entire story done in my head, but the hard part is deciding which part to do next...

[fatherlorris]

As I said I can wait so please don't feel rushed.