This is a Fanfic about random Nintendo

[Pilgrim John]

fatherlorris said:

when is the next one due. or have you got block again?

Whoa, someone's still actually reading this? I was worried this thread was dead.
Anyway, I'm still thinking of how the next chapter will go, but I DO have a few hints:
*It focuses on Gray and the pirates...
*Plus, a battle against some of the toughest idiots known to man.

[fatherlorris]

I don't think this thread will die for a long time. Its the single greatest fanfic I have read.

[Panique]

Hoorah, pirate focus! :3

[Pilgrim John]

Chapter Fourteen, scene one. Places, everybody! Annnnnnd... ACTION!

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Fourteen of them, there were, Gray counted. They all wore black suits with small, white stripes on them, definitely making them look Mafioso. Some had their hats on, others only wore shades, but all wore the traditional scowl.
Gray began to sweat as Jason walked past him to speak to the gangsters. Panique leaned to her side and whispered to Gray, “Do you think they’ll let him?”
Gray drummed his fingers together nervously, not sure whether or not he should actually state his mind. Personally, he knew what the mafia would do to those whom they found insubordinate, but inwardly, he also hoped that Jason’s request to take a look at the crashed ship would be validated.
Captain Jim stared back at the mafia dogs, his piercing gaze getting some good competition. He never did like the local “government” of this town, but was smart enough not to get involved with them.
Smith also joined Jim’s side in the staring contest, with Christopher nervously hiding behind him. Symphonic’s puppy eyes had become a rather ugly stare, and he bared his teeth at Albino’s men. Jason’s friends simply tried to occupy their eyesight with something other than the frightening gaze of the mafia men before them.
As Jason talked unintelligibly with their “squad leader”, Gray began to wonder why they weren’t at this gate before, when he and his friends had drove into the town in their buggy. He thought they might have been goofing off, but with the stares he was receiving now, it became harder to believe.
Jason walked back to the group, giving a thumbs-up. “What’d he say?” asked the Captain.
“He said that he’d only let me and my mechanics go there.” Jason turned to Zellow. “Go get Breath. He’s probably still on that other project, but tell him we’ll have to put it on hold for now.”
Zellow nodded, then got back on his bike and rode his way down the crowded, cracked road deep into Highwind.
Symphonic shrugged his shoulders. “Well, it seems like we’ll be stuck here for a few days. Let’s make the most of it.”

* * * * * *

Estabella’s tent was on the more rundown side of town (Or at least, a side of town that was literally worse than the other sides). It was big enough to be a small house, and had a few of the conveniences of modern living. A small hammock in one corner, plus another above it—obviously meant for guests. A cheap-looking large vase occupied another corner, holding items such as umbrellas. A small lamp and a straw-mesh chair were on one side of the room. The table in the center was often used for her fortune-telling business, but could also be converted into a small meal table. Speaking of meals, they were always cooked outside, where Estabella kept a pot and firewood.
“Don’t you think it’s unwise to keep something like a cooking pot outside your house?” mused Gray.
“Trust me,” Estabella replied, “it wouldn’t be much more secure inside the tent.”
The tent was too small to house both the Captain and his entire six-man crew, so Jim had asked Smith, Ruben, and Symphonic to stay outside the tent for now. “We could use a few guards anyway,” he explained, “You know what kind of place this is.”
Those who were privileged enough to stay inside the tent tried their hardest to get comfortable, despite there not being enough room for even this many people. Gray flopped down on one of the hammocks, with Panique on the one above him. Christopher sat in a chair near the table, where Estabella was standing, and Jim seated himself by the lamp, whose glow had dimmed considerably since they entered.
Jim stretched as he sat down, thinking over what they should do next. They were going to stay here for a few days, he knew, and most likely, the local mafia wouldn’t allow Jason to fix the Captain Jack for free, even if it was because of a debt he owed. Therefore, they needed a lot of money. Fast.
Panique leaned over the side of her hammock and looked at the Captain. “So what do we do next?” she asked. “We’re gonna need about a quarter of a million Wan for that kind of repair.”
Jim groaned and leaned back in his chair. He folded his one good arm in a harrumph, and began to scratch his chin lightly with his hook. Suddenly, he had an idea. He almost flew out of his chair as he asked Estabella, “Do they have a fighting ring, complete with a gambling hall?”
Estabella knew that this was what he was about to suggest. She looked to the ceiling as if to ask, “Why me?” She breathed a sigh as she put her hands to her hips. “Yes,” she grumbled, “But don’t even think about it. Each one of those things is rigged.”
Jim frowned. “But we need the money,” he began to argue.
Estabella picked up a newspaper, rolled it up, and hit Jim over the head with it. “No!” she commanded. “You’ll only be throwing your lives away for the Albino’s entertainment!”
Jim thought for a second of a good comeback—harder than it sounded, since he had little to eat in the past few days. His mind was turning more and more into a scrambled mess… Not good, he thought. He was the leader of the pack here; he couldn’t afford to lose it!
As Jim opened his mouth to say something, a loud gunshot exploded outside. After a second of shocked silence, all occupants of the tent rushed outside to see what was going on. As they exited the tent, they saw that, thankfully, no one had shot the guards defending the tent.
Smith, Ruben, and Symphonic were all looking down the side of the building. The others joined their activity, looking down onto the street below to see a shoot-out between a rowdy gang of thugs and a few of the Albino’s men.
“Not again,” Estabella grumbled.
Gray couldn’t break his eyes from the sordid spectacle below. “What’s going on?” he asked.
Estabella looked away, obviously upset by the current events unfolding on the streets below. She tried to raise her voice above the gunshots to be heard as she explained. “There’s been a bit of a struggle this past few weeks.”
“Really?” Panique asked.
Estabella rolled her eyes. “What did I just say?” she huffed.
As they watched the rebels fight their merciless Mafioso superiors, the group also witnessed several crimes take place. Obviously, some had thought it a great idea to take advantage of the hullabaloo and steal things from nearby shops. Several of the shooters were getting killed—one even had his head taken off at the shoulders.
Jim sighed sadly. He was a pirate, hardened sailor of the skies. But what they were witnessing here was just mass domestic carnage on a scale of uncomfortable height. What was even more discomforting was that many of the residents, Estabella included, found the disturbance as nothing more than an annoyance.
Gray gulped as he watched a Mafioso use a long knife to decapitate one of the rebelling gang members. “So, uh…” he began, “C-Captain, what do we do?”
Jim twiddled his mustache. “Despite Estabella’s objections, and that she’s giving us much money for the repairs…” He tried his best to ignore the chaos below, as he collected his next words. “We need more money, since the repair job is very expensive. We’ll hit the coliseum in an hour. Understood?”
His crew nodded. Estabella shook her head, unimpressed.
Smith’s eyes could not be seen from under his sunglasses, but his expression never changed. They hadn’t been away from home all that long, but Gray could definitely detect something about Smith that made him seem different. Perhaps it was the news of what had befallen their home; perhaps it was that now he works for pirates. But as Smith watched one of the rebels take a chainsaw and cut a Mafioso in half down the middle, he smiled.
Gray was worried that something had happened to Smith… but unfortunately, now was not the time to ponder such details.
Estabella went back into her tent, washing her hands of this whole ordeal. “Fine,” she said before she entered the tent. “It’s your funerals. The coliseum is four blocks south of here.”
“Right,” Symphonic confirmed. “We’ll be back.”
After a pause, Estabella finally entered the tent. Her cousin had detected a small tear roll from her eye. Symphonic himself (And for that matter, the rest of the Dynamite Pirates) had never actually seen any fights in the coliseum. But if Estabella’s reaction to the news of their voluntary entering of the dubious contests was any indication, they were in for one hell of a beating.

[ruben_gamer4life]

"Stop the violence increase the peace in our streets!" AMAZING CHARPTER

[KoE_Hades]

Whew, finally caught up... Read from chapter 10 onwards just then. Okay, now I'm ready to start replying in this thread again. I love the drawing of the Strongman. I can almost smell his rotten flesh from here!

[Pilgrim John]

kingofevil said:

Whew, finally caught up... Read from chapter 10 onwards just then. Okay, now I'm ready to start replying in this thread again. I love the drawing of the Strongman. I can almost smell his rotten flesh from here!

Then you wouldn't want to stand next to him.

[KoE_Hades]

zer0 said:

kingofevil said:

Whew, finally caught up... Read from chapter 10 onwards just then. Okay, now I'm ready to start replying in this thread again. I love the drawing of the Strongman. I can almost smell his rotten flesh from here!

Then you wouldn't want to stand next to him.

Well, I doubt anyone would want to stand next to him even if he didn't stink.

[fatherlorris]

Remember, this thread will never be dead.
Or have you got block this time?

[Pilgrim John]

fatherlorris said:

Remember, this thread will never be dead.
Or have you got block this time?

Three Reasons:

1. I'm lazy and hard to motivate.

2. I'm busy trying to write stories for almost twenty different projects (many of which are due to requests from friends) and am easily disoriented with trying to keep track of all these ideas.

3. There is no third reason. There's only two. I only said there were three because I'm a terrible liar, and three is better than two.

[fatherlorris]

terrible liar eh?
well I say that all the reasons are a lies, and you have a warehouse full of pages for the fanfic, and you have a blimp, and box of tic-tacs.

[Pilgrim John]

fatherlorris said:

terrible liar eh?
well I say that all the reasons are a lies, and you have a warehouse full of pages for the fanfic, and you have a blimp, and box of tic-tacs.

*hides the tic-tacs*
And I say you no know nothin'!

[KoE_Hades]

zer0 said:

fatherlorris said:

Remember, this thread will never be dead.
Or have you got block this time?

Three Reasons:

1. I'm lazy and hard to motivate.

2. I'm busy trying to write stories for almost twenty different projects (many of which are due to requests from friends) and am easily disoriented with trying to keep track of all these ideas.

3. There is no third reason. There's only two. I only said there were three because I'm a terrible liar, and three is better than two.

There are 3 types of people in the world. Those who can count, and those who can't.

[Pilgrim John]

More to the story. More to this scene, too, but unfortunately, I'm too lazy to actually finish this scene right now. I'll do it later. Right now, though, you can all read what I have so far.

To the laymen, the word “Coliseum” brings to mind the image of the circular architecture of ancient Rome and ironclad, hard-boiled gladiators ready to sacrifice all they had for victory. However, the “coliseum” in Highwind was little more than a failed construction site, abandoned years ago for reasons never discussed. Rumor had it that the Albino family tried to build a new headquarters on that spot, but after the deaths of too many construction workers, they decided to end its foundation.
“Oh, I don’t buy that!” denied Smith.
“But it’s true,” Symphonic asserted, “Estabella even told me about that. Happened about ten years ago, I think.”
“So the place is haunted?” Panique chirped, displaying a cute ignorance for something horrifying.
Symphonic shrugged. “I’m not one for superstitions, but it seems that way. The only way for the Albino family to leave one alone is if they’re dead.” He bared his fangs in a twisted smile, as if trying to tell a ghost story in just the right way. “And ANGRY!”
Gray and Smith both rolled their eyes at Symphonic’s silly attempt at scaring them. Christopher, on the other hand, shook like a leaf in August wind.
As the group pushed their way through the crowds, more mafia henchmen were running to and fro, obviously checking for any other uprisings that would take place that day. Gray pulled his coat up, trying to hide his face. Please don’t talk to me, he prayed, please ignore me.
“HEY!” bellowed one of them. He lit a cigarette in traditional Mafia flair, trying to inflict some kind of intimidation. As he realized he had caught the group’s attention, he and a few other Albino “family members” circled them.
“You guys supposed to be sky pirates of some kind?” he asked.
Captain Jim certainly didn’t feel like answering any of them, especially not after the events that had been going on all week. He tried not to sound rude, however. Who knew what they would try if they thought he was mocking them.
“Yes,” he said coolly.
The lead “bad dog” smirked. “You must be the captain. Nice hat.”
Captain Jim nodded. He knew it was mockery and not a real compliment, but he figured he’d just have to play along.
“So then,” he continued. God, please don’t let this jerk take all my time today, Jim thought inwardly. The hitman popped his neck in an intimidating way as he took another step forward. “Where you guys headed? The coliseum? In need of a quick buck or two or three?”
The other Mafioso characters chuckled as if his last line were funny.
“Yeah,” Jim murmured.
“What?”
“YEAH.”
The guy messed his face up as if hurt. “Oooooh, You got an attitude. I don’t appreciate that.”
Jim snorted. “Panique doesn’t enjoy your lackeys staring at her butt, but she’s not complaining, is she?”
Oh, crap.
Panique gulped, not having realized that’s where some of the circling henchmen were staring. She clenched her teeth, not willing to allow her meek femininity to take over at a time like this.
“Hey,” the jerk chuckled. “You know that, in order to enter the coliseum, you need to pass a preliminary.”
Jim wiped at his nose in defiance. “You saying you’re the preliminary?”
Now he smirked. “Got that right. Few actually make it into the coliseum, you know that?” He threw down his cigarette and stepped on it. “I bloodied my hands on ‘em so much, my friends all nicknamed me ‘Bloodfist.’ Ain’t that right, fellas?”
The other henchmen nodded in agreement.
“Bloodfist” removed his fancy mafia-ordained “uniform” and cracked his knuckles. “How ‘bout it, ‘Captain’? You an’ me. Mano y mano.”
Jim removed his coat and hat and handed them to Symphonic. “Let me guess,” Jim huffed, “I lose and you kill my crew. I win, and you’ll tell your bosses I ‘attacked’ you, thereby sending even more mafia dogs to kill me and my crew.”
Bloodfist laughed an almost intimidating laugh. How lame is this guy? they all thought. “Damn straight! With the local ‘government’ behind me, there’s no way you can win.”
“Ah,” Jim interjected, “but why don’t you fight your own battles like a man? Without some ‘big daddy’ there to hold your hand when I hurt you?”
Bloodfist’s grin fell.
“Are you saying you’re not a man?” Jim continued, obviously trying to discombobulate Bloodfist’s concentration. He readied himself. “You saying you’re just a whiny little kid? A baby? Want me to change your diaper?”
Bloodfist’s teeth clenched and gritted, almost shearing away the enamel. One of his lackeys tried to reinstill his vigor. “Don’t listen to him, Boss! He’s just tryin’ to piss you off so you can’t concentrate!”
Jim continued his put-down parade, despite the lackey’s warnings to his boss. “Hey, your mama just called. She told me to tell you that you’re a big boy now. You can’t just keep sucking her titties forever, Junior.”
Everyone within a mile’s radius felt a sort of emotional implosion at Jim’s putdown. Whoa, thought Gray. That was harsh.
With a throaty, angry scream, Bloodfist lunged at Jim, who sidestepped to his right, nimble as a feather. As he avoided Bloodfist’s punch, Jim sunk his knee into Bloodfist’s crotch with a sickening squish.
Bloodfist doubled over, trying not to fall over from the intense pain in his manhood. He growled as he looked at Jim and his smug expression.
“Oh no!” Jim exclaimed, a wide smile spreading over his face. “Wooks wike wittle Bwoodfist needs his nappy-time.”
The growling mafia man tried to get Jim’s face with a right hook, only for Jim to duck and land another blow to his crotch. Jim followed with a rapid one-two punch to the groin, then another one-two to the diaphragm, ending his combo with an uppercut to Bloodfist’s chin.
Bloodfist landed in a heap a good three feet away from his opponent. Jim was so smug, it seemed that even his mustache was smiling. “Next time, you can change your OWN crappy diaper.”
Bloodfist fought his way back up, angrier than a bear whose honey had been stolen. “SHUT UP!” he cried.
“Oh, boo-hoo-hoo!” Jim teased, rubbing his eye as if to wipe away mocking tears. “Maybe I’ll warm you up a bottle and pop in your favorite movie, ‘Barney Goes to the Circus.’” Jim leaned down, looking straight into Bloodfist’s eyes with impish delight at his anger. “Or, I could just put you in your playpen until you decide to behave.”
Bloodfist ran at Jim, roaring, fists ready to pound the mocking face before him. However, his burst of energy didn’t last, as he fell flat on his face halfway on his failed rampage. After a few seconds of surprise, Jim pointed at Bloodfist and started laughing. He motioned for his crewmembers to join in, of which they gladly obliged.
Their laughter was stopped short, unfortunately, when Bloodfist’s henchmen drew guns and knives. “You think you’re so tough?” questioned one of them. “Let’s see you take us ALL on!”
Symphonic gave Jim back his duds as the mafia men glared with clenched teeth. “So I take it that’s an invitation to kick all your asses without fear of repercussion?” Jim smirked as he put his coat back on.
There were only about seven of them against the six of the pirates. How unfair it was… for the mafia.
Like in a Western, one of the mafia men broke the chilling silence by dashing forward toward Panique’s back. As he aimed to dig his 5” knife into her back, he saw something he hadn’t before:
Panique was holding one of her guns in a position that aimed behind her. More, specifically, she was aiming it at him. The gunshot went off like an explosion, ending the knifeman’s life and starting a riot in the streets.
What came next was madness, pure and simple. Villagers and additional nearby Mafioso came running in to partake of the fight, some to try to calm everyone down, and others for the pure stupid fun of rearranging another person’s face.
Gray, however, found himself face-down on the broken, dirty street as someone from behind had jumped on him. The attacker began to jump up and down on his back, smashing his boots into Gray’s spine.
Gray tried to maintain his breathing, and thought of a quick counterattack. As the attacker jumped off of him to land on him once again, Gray rolled out from underneath him, drew his bell, and swung it at the jerk. A loud “gong”, and the assailant had been knocked into a group nearby.
Gray looked around, trying to locate his friends. Suddenly, he caught a glimpse of Panique hiding in a nearby alley, waving to get his attention. Trying to dodge the blows, gunfire, and thrown objects currently whizzing by was no small task, but Gray somehow managed to join Panique and her hiding place.
As he reached there, he saw that Symphonic, Ruben, Christopher, and Jim were each present. “Where’s Smith?” Gray asked, “Is he okay?”
Symphonic shrugged. “It was chaos out there. I couldn’t keep track of anyone.”
Looking out at the street now, it seemed that the filthy streets were getting a new, bloody paint job. Gray shook his head, saddened by the state of this town. Suddenly, he spotted Smith—he was busy dispatching a mafia dog.
Gray was about to call Smith while cupping his mouth, but Ruben pulled him back. “Don’t do it, man!” he warned, “You’ll end up getting someone else’s attention instead! And their attention is something we DON’T need.”
Panique started to wave again, trying to get Smith’s attention. After kicking an attacking hobo in the stomach, Smith turned and tripped another opponent coming from behind. He suddenly caught Panique’s wave—just in time to be stabbed in the shoulder from behind.
“Dammit!” Jim cursed. He drew his sword, ready to go back into the chaos. “Don’t bother,” Panique said to her Captain as she loaded her guns. She took careful aim, and managed to take down Smith’s other assailants with strategically-placed bullets.
As Smith fought his way to the rest of the crew, Gray couldn’t help but feel useless. Watching his friend get punched in the face and stabbed from the side as he did nothing hurt something more than his pride. But as he watched, he realized something else about Smith: his savagery. He didn’t just incapacitate his enemies, he sliced off limbs.
Gray shook more now… what was Smith starting to turn into? They’d only joined the Dynamite Pirates earlier that afternoon. Had Smith secretly hid this side of himself until just now? Suddenly, Gray felt uncomfortable with Smith around. He’d have to bring this up to the Captain later.
Smith finally made it to the alley, a bleeding, bruised heap of human. Ruben and Christopher helped prop him up as Captain Jim led the group through the alley towards the Coliseum.
The alleyways acted as some strange kind of network—almost a labyrinth, in fact. It was like they were tiny blood cells racing around in an artery. After a few minutes of navigating their way towards the still-visible-from-where-they-stood Coliseum, the noise from the ruckus that had erupted in town had begun to quiet down.
Panique felt safer now that the group had put plenty of distance between themselves and the chaos. As she reloaded her guns, she noticed that Ruben and Christopher were still carrying Smith. “Hey,” Panique asked between inserting bullets, “what’s your name again? Chris?”
“Who, me?” Christopher asked with his usual innocence.
“Aren’t you supposed to be some kind of healer?”
Christopher looked over Smith’s wounds. “I’m a healer?”
Ruben let go of Smith without realizing, his jaw agape at Christopher’s incredibly short memory. “You just got through saying earlier how you excelled in healing magic.”
“I did?” Christopher asked. His mind searched itself, now knowing that Christopher obviously couldn’t do it himself. “Oh, I did! I AM a healer!” he chimed with gusto.
After a few seconds of awkward silence, Symphonic clicked his tongue and asked, “So, you gonna heal your friend or just let him bleed?”
Christopher hadn’t realized that he had accidentally let Smith drop to the ground, but realized it just now. Then he forgot it. “I’m a healer?” he asked again.
Everyone exhaled in dismay. A healer who didn’t know how to heal was as useful as a toilet with a flush-activated self-destruct switch.
Jim pushed Christopher from the side, finally fed up with his incompetence. “Listen!” he barked. “Use your magic powers to heal your teammate, or so help me…” He leaned his face closer to Christopher’s and spoke in a hushed tone. Gray couldn’t make out Jim’s threat from where he stood, but from Christopher’s reaction, it wasn’t pretty.
“O-Okay!” Christopher pleaded. “Okay, I’ll heal him! I’ll never forget anything ever again! I swear!” He got on his knees and bowed low before his Captain, who wore a scowl so scary his mustache had twirled itself.
Christopher looked up at Jim, whose stare began to bore a hole in his head. “Well?!” Jim yelled, throwing his arms in the air impatiently. “What are you waiting for, Christmas?!”
Christopher nearly jumped eight feet out of his skin at the sound of Jim’s booming voice. He quickly scrambled to ready his stave and tried his hardest to remember the necessary incantation. Was it “mari owar io” or “kidkid icarusicarus kidkid icarusicarus”?
“Uh…” he stammered as he aimed his stave near Smith’s wounds. “Um, um…” he sweated as he fumbled in his thoughts. Suddenly, the words came to him: “Klatu berada nikto!”
Suddenly, a brightly colored beam shot from his stave, surrounding Smith in a blinding light. The other pirates shielded their eyes with their hands. As the light faded, they opened their eyes once again to see—
“What-the-hell-did-you-DO?! "bellowed Jim, taking an angry stomp forward with each equally angry word. “You turned your teammate into a bloody chicken!”
Indeed, it was true: Smith was now a chicken. His brown feathers ruffled as he arched his back. He pecked at the ground, searching for edible substances.
Panique groaned. “Somehow, I knew this was going to happen,” she breathed as she pulled her hat down in embarrassment.
The other pirates stood there in that alley, watching as Jim blew up on Christopher. This was the first time either Panique or Symphonic had seen their leader this frustrated with any one person. His shouts and bad language bounced off all the walls in the alley, shaking windowpanes and scaring away stray cats. The buildings had each begun to shed dust and dirt.
Finally, Jim kicked Christopher over. “Idiot! We thought you said you were a healer!”
Christopher fought his way back up to his feet. “I said I was a magician! I practice offensive magic as well as healing magic!”
“So where’s the healing?! You turned Smith into a chicken, for Chrissakes!”
“I forgot the incantation, that’s all!”
Jim punched Christopher in the face, knocking him back down. Gray and Ruben were about to object, but Panique and Symphonic both pulled them back. “Don’t try,” warned the Sansa, “you’ll only make him angrier.”
“You FORGOT?! What kind of excuse IS that?! What if he were actually dying?! Would you forget THEN?!” bellowed the Captain.
At a loss for words, Christopher breathed heavily as he tried to stand up. “L-Listen,” he began.
“No buts!”
“LISTEN!” Christopher shouted. Suddenly, he realized he had everyone’s attention. Should he really come out with the truth? Everyone was depending on him to heal them when they got hurt… Would revealing the truth to them make them lose their faith in him?
He didn’t want to lie, but he didn’t want his friends to lose hope. “Listen,” he started again, “I can get this right. You just need to let me try again.”

[Agent Smith]

Awesome writing dude! It kicks ass! haha