AIM: Pancaek Beast | E-mail: shdwdde@gmail.com | Denny's House of Pancaeks
Finale (Points: 170/240 Matches: 60/69)
One Winged Angel it is. You produce the long-hidden bongos and solemnly begin to tap out the eerie bassline to the tune. Full orchestration accompanies your playing, and a chorus begins to chant in the background. The swirling music draws Sephiroth, cloaked in flames, inexorably back at you.
"You called?"
A minor explosion launches the blond chick with the Buster Blade at you. You grip the sword in your hands. The girl grunts and whines a little, trying to push you back. His force is actually considerable, and it is almost enough to keep him from being crushed, bug-like. But you are mother****ing Donkey Kong. Waxing disdain, you bend the blade, starting from the tip, all the way to the handle. With your release, the girl falls flat on her face. The weapon in her hands is now, for all intents and purposes, a Mobius Strip: a scientific curiosity but of no practical application.
"Nice work, Donkey!" Alucard yells, from his precarious position. You direct your eyes over. The Elf, of unnatural height, now wears the painted face and silver hair of a God. The Italian. of ten times his normal mass, pounds the ground with his considerable rump. Alucard counters the drastic sweeps of the Elf's sword, impaired by the quakes that arise from the Italians buttstomps.
You return to your music. Sephiroth burns furiously in front of you. His bright eyes radiate the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. You, in turn, strike out One Winged Angel as a furious sort of justice. The flames surrounding grow in intensity, following the rising lead of your song. The chorus rejoins, but no longer is it in the familiar language of Latin.
Donkey Kong
Get yo gun
Someone gonna die
Someone gonna die
Everyone else too
The connection between these English lyrics and the plight of you and Alucard is not readily apparent, but it's not like you need everything as explicit as the Bible to give it a serious interpretation.
Swords sparkle and blood flows like whiskey. Alucard's silence indicates success. Time slows down dramatically for you. Alucard raises both hands in triumph before two slain enemies, a process that takes hours. Sephiroth swings his sword, but in the ten seconds that his blade takes to reach you, you draw your Coconut Gun and fire it into Sephiroth mouth. The first round break his face. Flawless, feminine facial features contort and rip apart. The second shell hits the first, transferring to it all of its energy. Sephiroth's skull expands, but it is not enough. The head implods from its front. Blood explodes from the impact and rains down upon you. Sephiroth's entire body twitches; his long arms launch the sexual curve of the Masamune in a parabola, impaling the girl with the folded blade.
Sephiroth emits no final plea of despair, no drama. The remains of his skull hang limply from a broken neck. The lifeless body collapses, and the mess of red-stained silver hair flops apart. Brains leak out, the brains of a demi-God. Even in their deceased oozing, they remain more vital than the typical American high school student. The sight is gruesome. An unbelievable volume of blood pours from the gaping head wounds and spreads across the ground, flooding it. You glance casually at Alucard.
"No problems here," he asserts, wading through what is becoming a rising pool of blood. You follow him through Sephiroth's filling. It is now at waist-level and has evidently flooded the ocean, as well. Even your feet now barely touch the ground.
Within a few minutes, you are swimming aimlessly. Sephiroth's corpse has pumped enough blood to the multitudinous seas incarnadine, turning the green one red. The blood submerges the entirety of the island, and you swim through it, unsure of your goal.
Alucard is yet in human form, swimming awkwardly through the red wash that you believe is the Pacific Ocean. A poor swimmer, some of Sephiroth's blood gets in your eyes, and you are unable to see clearly. "Over there!" Alucard tells you, gesturing. You can only squint. Reddish tint covers you. Your only indication of response is general waving of your arms.
Desperate hope for contact... alleviation. Your fingers close around something thin, wooden, rod-shaped. With your left hand, you hoist Alucard up by the scruff of the neck and extend your grip: You ensnare another wooden rod, horizontal, parallel to the first. They are undoubtedly the rungs of a later.
Dripping, coughing, excreting blood from every imaginable bodily cavity, you deposit Alucard on a ship. You flop a little to drain your drenched fur of the liquid, though nothing ensures total cleanliness.
"I am quite tired."
Alucard, somehow perfectly clean, strolls over to a black coffin and climbs inside. "It was good working with you, Donkey. You were an integral part of The Plan."
And he shuts the lid. Powerful longing and nostalgia overwhelm you. Alas, poor Alucard. You knew him...
There is a coffin next to Alucard's, considerably larger and surprisingly comfortable-looking. Compelled by the forces of evolution, tiredness, and the pursuit of Christian imagery and metaphors, you move toward it, slowly lift the lid, and lower your body into the bed of humus. It's time for a long, long nap. Slowly, powerfully, your eyes close.
You're mother****ing Donkey Kong. You deserve it.
Fin
SD
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
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