Apostles

Ziginz Zegell

No Fear, No Pain.
Disclaimer: The characters depicted in this story are fictional. They are simply my attempt to bring together some folks from HJU in a bad ass story about stuff. Don’t take anything presented personally: I think you are all awesome and I am going to try to depict you as thus. Thanks and have a fun read.

Note: This is also a story written for fun while I was half asleep and is only the first part of many. So if the grammer and spelling arn't perfect then deal. I'll probably fix it later....I don't see why I wouldn't. Thanks for reading.

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A city full of heroes; governed, policed, and maintained by heroes; that is what Justice City is. When the concept was first presented by the man called Keith Justice, many thought he was mad, or at least over zealous. Yet the concept flourished, and the city called Justice has come to rival some world powers in the few years since its rise from one man’s mind. Many threats have come and gone, with just as many heroes to face them down. Time and time again, foe after foe has fallen in the names of justice, love, and hope. The city has known peace for many long years since the last threat was thwarted, but danger still persists. Gaia memories, mutagenic drugs, illegal cyberization: all are a constant threat to the innocent people of the hero ruled utopia. While some thrive in the constant struggle to maintain peace, others have begun to be slowly corrupted by the very forces they fight to defeat. The lines between are constantly being blurred, and some say that soon the city will fall by its own dogma: Heroes. Now, a new sort of hero is about to rise, and they shall remind the city of its purpose by wearing the very power that so many have come to loathe. Angels viewed as devils by the very people they strive to protect; they will rise to become what the city needs now more then ever before.

Apostles.

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Chapter 1: Savior Den-O, The Cops, and…..
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C block: the under belly of Justice City that lay open for all too see like some festering wound. No one ever paid much heed to the debauchery and sorrow in that place, though it was clear for all to see, even those in the upper city. Even S.P.D. and its Dekarangers rarely came to this long stretch of ruined buildings filled with equally ruined dreams. No, the only law here is the G3 Mild patrols commanded by the Moderator, Blade Dancer, and whatever punishment the locals deemed fit for those that would wrong them. No one ever really figured out how the neighborhood had fallen so hard, but such thoughts are not those of one man. A man called Savior Den-O; a junkie with severe Gaia Memory addiction searching for the only thing that has ever brought him peace. He had power once, he was even respected by the higher community as a skilled user of the Den-O system. He lost all that due to one rash decision, and turned to Gaia Memories in some vein attempt to regain his lost glory. He had lost that memory and now the scrawny man was running for his life from the very men and women he had once stood alongside in opposition to evil.

As the red haired man turned a corner; his torn jacket and worn clothes doing little to protect him from the falling rain, he turn his head to search for his pursuers. His hazel eyes saw nothing, and for a moment he smiled as he felt safe for the first time in hours. The feeling did not last as Savior hit something solid in front of him which caused him to stumble back before he fell onto the muddy road. He looked up and saw the very thing he had been trying to escape; a man wearying the mass produced armor called G3 Mild. The silver and blue armor was worn over a black, bio enhancement suit, and bore the red eyes akin to most riders, or rider like warriors. As the armored figure pointed his fire arm (a GM-01 Scorpion) at the fallen man, two other officers bearing the same armor and engraved badge upon their chest plates ran around the corner. They had been the ones pursuing Savior for the better part of the night and were none too happy with the criminal.

“You two mean to tell me you couldn’t catch this scrawny ass ***** in a foot chase?†The senior officer questioned at his two cohorts even as he aimed for Savior’s head, ready to fire should the former rider even flinch the wrong way. The two could make excuses, but that wasn’t how things worked in their unit. If you couldn’t do the job then you couldn’t do the job; there was no room for excuses. The senior officer shook his head before holstering his gun, leaving Savior with a worse feeling then he had before. The officer then pulled out his Guard Acceler, switching it to its weapon mode. The stick sparked and the officer half laughed as he said his next words. “Can’t be having this little piss ant telling all his buddies that he outran you two rookies, now can we?†Savior began to scoot back, trying to get further away from the law keeper before him. He looked back to see if the other two would stand up for his rights, if they would protect the broken man from their senior. The two rookie officers only glanced at each other before turning away. They had worked too hard to become rider to stand against a senior officer for the sake of a washed up junkie. Even so, they were still unwilling to watch the carnage about to unfold even as they heard the first, bone breaking strike. The strike sounded strange, however: like metal hitting metal as opposed to metal striking flesh. The two turned to see what had happened and saw their senior standing over a terrified Savior, not moving from his posed to attack position. Then the armored man fell forward, hitting the ground with a generous amount of force. Savior barely had time to move out of the way of the collapsing man who hit the ground hard, clearly unconscious.

What Savior and the other two officers saw left them flabbergasted. Sticking out of the brute of an officer’s back was a glowing arrow. The arrow had pierced straight through the power pack of the G3-Mild armor and into the armor’s wearer. The two remaining riders looked further down the alley only to each be struck by arrows as well; these piercing them through their chests and into their armor’s power packs. The two fell as quickly as their senior, and Savior was left the only one conscious among them. Perhaps the only one alive, though no blood seemed to be flowing from the armor of the three downed riders. As the shocked, terrified man looked around, he heard the sound of someone approaching. Fear told him not to look, but his survival instinct convinced him to turn his head toward the approaching steps. In the dark of the alley, Savior saw a human shaped entity which wore bizarre armor, an ornately decorated helmet, and a cross bow melded with its left arm. Having seen dopants, altered humans, and a score of other inhumanoids, Savior should not have been so surprised by the being’s appearance, though he was. This being was different from the others: it was a kaijin, but it did not strike the same kind of fear in ones heart that a kaijin normally would. Instead this being seemed to bear a kind of wisdom about him that left Savior a bit calmer, but still cautious.

As the being finally reached Savior, it offered the down trodden man its hand as if volunteering to help him up. The red haired miscreant was not certain, and hesitated for a moment. In the end, Savior took the crossbow wielder’s hand and was surprised at how easily he was pulled to his feet. The being wiped the dust off of Savior’s shoulders and nodded to the man before grabbing him by the neck with enough force to lift the full grown man off the ground. Savior flailed for a moment as a burning sensation coursed through his neck and shoulder. When at last the being droped Savior, the man scurried a few feet before feeling of his own neck in shock. It was gone, the living connector that had been right bellow his skin for years was completely gone. That wasn’t all: Savior felt different, almost whole again. His shakes and cold sweat were gone, and he felt alive again. Savior turned to the figure with a questioning stare which was answered with the figure presenting a device to the now healed man. It was an odd, red switch that seemed to resonate with Savior for some reason. The man didn’t know why, but the device felt familiar. It wasn’t like the power of a Gaia Memory, but far purer and les oppressive. “Wha-what is that…a-and who are you?†The figure scoffed a bit before walking over to Savior, taking the man’s hand, and forcing the switch into his hand. “A guy walks up, removes the source of your addiction, and offers you a magic switch that you won’t get addicted to. Good God you should be thanking me, and agreeing to be one of my followers by now.â€

The words from the bowman took Savior by surprise. He had expected…well something more profound, but instead seemed to have been forced into some group that this man before him was leading. Savior looked at the switch and then back at his new acquaintance who was waving his hand in an attempt to speed the former junkie along. It was probably stupid, ignorant, and just down right irresponsible, but it was better then being shot in the back while trying to flee. Savior took gulped and pressed the switch, not sure what was about to happen. A light shown from Savior’s body as a pure, good, and clean power flowed through him. He could feel a connection to the stars themselves and knew what he was, and why he had been chosen. This was a day the former rider would never forget: the day he became a Horoscope, Apostle, and comrade to others like him. It was also the day he would learn of the impending threat, and the doom Justice City would some day face is something wasn’t done. As the transformation ended, Savior looked toward the warrior he now knew was the Sagittarius Zodiarts, and the one chosen to lead their cause. Even with what he had learned, however, there was still much he did not know. The Sagittarius powered bowman deactivated his own transformation, revealing an average built man in his early twenties whose black hair was unkempt, and whose blue eyes peered at Savior with something like anticipation. “Well…did they remember my name this time?†Savior wasn’t sure who his comrade meant, but he shook his head to which the other man seemed extremely perturbed. He looked toward the stars and let out a long line of obscenities followed by a line that revealed his identity, to some extent. “Masta you sorry ass, self centered bastards!!! My name is Hidden Masta and you ugly ass holes think you can just waltz into my dreams, tell me I’m the chosen one, and then walk away without as much as a please or thank you!? Stars my ass! Your not even worthy of being dwarf stars, much less real stars, or super stars! The same goes for your dads…or whatever stars have…shit…â€

The man now known to Savior as Hidden Masta looked at the raggedy fellow and then looked away as he spoke. “They think cause they are magic stars that they can treat me like a pawn. God made me just as much as he made them: flaws included. Tch…I’m hungry…I’m meeting my other disciples for breakfast and your coming along too. After that we are checking you ass into the Y. God knows you need a bath and probably a tetanus shot or something. What’s your name anyway?†Savior was still a bit taken back by Masta’s actions, but finally answered and a stutter. “S-S-Savior Den-O…†Masta looked at the red head with a bit of disgust in his face before shaking his head and turning to walk away. “Who names themselves that? Alright, alright…we will just get you a new name after your shots. Something bad ass like…â€Little Mastaâ€, or “Masta the secondâ€, no…no that is jst stupid. Oh, Masta the Lesser, now that’s the ****. Right, from now on you’ll be Masta the Lesser, and I’ll expect you to call me Hidden Masta the Greater. HA! It’s going to be a good day, I can feel it!â€
 

Kylen

Viewtiful Henshin
Wait wait wait. Is this....is this a metafic involving various users on the boards?

I'm okay with this.
 

Ziginz Zegell

No Fear, No Pain.
This is how Masta rescused the finest of us from ourselves and gave us a purpose in life again. Now thanks to you I have to write more of it because you gave it a fancy name like Metafic....I knew this day would come.
 

Ore-sama

The Great Me
Hey what about me? I'm the guy who tries to be awkward and badass at the same time and also tries to pwn Masta and see his reaction.

Oh and on a side note, the Masta in this fanfic reminds me of Deadpool. Seriously, Masta looks like the kind of guy who can be Deadpool's BFF.
 
Hey what about me? I'm the guy who tries to be awkward and badass at the same time and also tries to pwn Masta and see his reaction.

Oh and on a side note, the Masta in this fanfic reminds me of Deadpool. Seriously, Masta looks like the kind of guy who can be Deadpool's BFF.
Have we ever talked? I don't think I've ever seen you post before.
 

Ziginz Zegell

No Fear, No Pain.
I actually have the perfect part for you in the story Ore! Of course it means getting shot with a cosmic arrow...but there is a good 75% chance of you living! It is all coming together nicely.
 
I actually have the perfect part for you in the story Ore! Of course it means getting shot with a cosmic arrow...but there is a good 75% chance of you living! It is all coming together nicely.

There's no need to put strangers in this story. Just stick to the Apostles and admins we destroy.
 

Ore-sama

The Great Me
There's no need to put strangers in this story. Just stick to the Apostles and admins we destroy.

Nah. I'm hardly a stranger anymore. I've moved up the ranks. I'm now at the mid-point between being a stranger and being a creeper of the infamous ones. And besides, this fanfic is so much better than that your 50 Shades of J.
 
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Ziginz Zegell

No Fear, No Pain.
Same disclaimer as last time. This one focuses on the Apostle's foes, who seem like O.K. guys. As with anything, however, perceptions of a situation can turn good people into enemies, and then allies, and then enemies, and then lovers, and then lease signers, and then rivals, and then arch rivals, and then accepted inidivduals who you tolerate but really don't want to invite to social gatherings because they make things awkward, then lovers again, and finally friends...or enemies...and mutual acquantinces.

Ummm...enjoy and if you arn't in it now you might be later, or rather a fictionalized version of you...yeah...zippadidoda.

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Ch. II: Up High, Down Low, and slightly to the right.
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The Tower of Justice: the center of Justice City, and home of many of the administrators and moderators that keep the peace within its border. It was the first structure built in the city, and most agree, should Justice City ever be pushed to the brink, that it will be the last to fall. At the top of the tower sat its king, rather, the hero who had founded the city that rest all around the spire. A man who had fought so often to uphold a certain set of virtues and to protect the innocent with all his might that his name has become a call to arms when evil would rise up. Keith Justice, founder of Justice City, the man who had fought against countless obstacles to make it a reality, and still defended it with his life. Alas, years of constant struggle had left the man called the Hero of Justice lethargic and even concerned for the future. It seemed every time a foe was caste down, a new one would rise to take its place, and while once he would have been the first to face such threats, now he had grown weary and troubled. Fortunately he was not alone in these struggles, for he had gained many trusted allies with whom he had forged lasting friendships. His team of Administrators and Moderators whom he trusted with his life, his dreams, and his ideals; these were the people he relied on most. Men, women, mechanized entities, and at least one multiphase life form, who he relied on time and time again.

Sitting in his office, the dark, hansom figure looked toward a holographic projection in the center of the room along with several of his most trusted advisors. The projection showed three, fallen riders of the C-Block district: one experienced officer, and two rookies. The projection also showed the damage to each one’s armor, and thus the inhuman precision and perfection of each of the attacks that had disabled the armors and ensured the defeat of each rider.

“The three survived then?” asked Keith as he took a drink of coffee and looked at the solid copy photographs that lay on his desk. Holograms were fancy and useful, but he still preferred to have photos such as these just in case. He had experienced and survived one too many crashes of the city’s complex computer network to rely completely on digitized information. Besides, a file cabinet makes better cover then a hologram in a fire fight.

The one giving the report, Mike RC, Administrator of the Justice City Security Corps, switched to pictures of the three victims before continuing. “Yes sir, but we believe it was not by accident. The attacker most likely intended to spare their lives.” Some in the room were surprised to hear this while others seemed not to care. Anyone who would openly attack riders was an enemy that needed to be punished, it was that simple. RC switched to another image, a simulation of how the attacks most likely made their way through each victim. “As you can see we believe the weapon used against the officers was an arrow, or similarly shaped projectile. The weapon struck the chest plates of each victim in a weaker area of the armor, slid between the fifth and sixth ribs, rotated mid flight to pass between the heart and left lung, then shrunk in size and rotated once more to pass between the same ribs before penetrating through the armor’s power pack and out the other side. The arrows came within millimeters of each victim’s heart, left lung, and spine and were identical in trajectory and damage done. The damage to the power packs disabled the armors, caused a power surge that erased each armor’s OS, and corrupted video data beyond use in all three. The impact was also enough to knock the three unconscious, but condensed enough as not to cause further damage to their bodies. In essence…the most absolutely perfect shot I have ever seen.”

RC saying this was very significant since most present would agree that the Security Administrator was the best sniper in the city. Rifle, bow, slingshot, shurikens, or even small pebbles that get stuck in shoes and annoy people; if it could be shot, slang, or thrown, Mike RC could kill something with it, dead. His most notable achievements were during the S-Bot invasion of ’07 in which he destroyed over two hundred of the mechanized beasts, and the Decepticon insurgency of ’09. During the latter, he managed to shoot down Decepticon aerial warrior, Thundercracker, with only a high powered rifle, and helped fight back the Monstructor while nursing several injuries. His actions and conduct during both conflicts earned him his rank as Security Administrator, and a place in legend.

The room seemed to grow even more silent then it already had been. Only Keith seemed unfazed by the news as he opened a cabinet drawer on his desk to reveal a small oven from which he took out a fresh cooked bagel. He had seen stranger things that were far worse as a rider, ranger, and one short period as a pretty cure which no one was ever allowed to mention in his presence. His rage had been mighty that day, but it was a distant memory now as he smeared cream cheese on his baked delight. What he did see in this attack was someone more or less saying ~Screw you guys. I am so bad ass that I don’t even have to waste time shooting you more then once much less killing you. Eat it! Eat all my cock until I am satisfied and you are left feeling dirty and used. As of now I am hell bent on making you all my bitches. Can you dig it? The answer is yes, because you are digging your own graves, and I'm brining the shovels for you to do it with!~ It was a lot to take from the data presented, but Keith had a talent for reading a warrior’s intentions, and even personality, from just a single attack. Whoever their shooter was, he had left a loud calling card for Keith in these three attacks, and was carrying around a massive set of brass balls.

“The officers who were attacked…didn’t they see anything? For that matter the report said they were pursuing a suspected memory user at the time. Have we not found this individual yet, or at least identified him?” The one asking these questions was a skinny, dark haired man named Dark Kabuto, one of the Administrators who regulated the flow of information in and out of the city. Also a talented investigator, Kabuto had helped the Security Corps on many occasions to track down dangerous criminals and potential threats. Not the least of these was a mad android that thought he was the evil time lord, The Master, which concluded in a battle of wits and inheriting the powers of Gokaiblue. Over all, Kabuto is well loved by his peers and many of the citizens of the city. Not to say he doesn’t have his occasional rivals…

RC returned to the images of the three officers and brought up the profile of the female officer, a lavender haired beauty named MagiPink. The young woman had only been with the J.C.S.C. for two months, and had only become a G3-Mild operator two days before the attack. Though she would recover from her injuries, her superior officer (who had also been attacked) reported severe incompetence on the part of Magi and her partner, Gattack Striker. The two protested the claims, but the words of a veteran officer carried more weight then those of two green horns. Dark Kabuto knew both the young officers well, but due to lack of evidence there was little he could do to help them. At this rate they might loose their positions as riders and be knocked back to simple patrol men.

“We have a discription of the one they were pursueing, but we have yet to identify him. Officer MagiPink reported that she saw the attacker’s silhouette in the darkness, but only enough to get a vague idea of height and build. A humanoid with ornate armor, a masculine build, and who was wielding a bow like weapon in ihis or her left hand. She reported the attacker’s right arm was at rest which leads us to believe the weapon was more akin to a cross bow.” RC was interrupted by a deep sigh and troubled moan from the front of the room.

Sitting behind Keith was his right hand man, and a fellow legend: the enigmatic Tom Constantine. The man who had once ripped out the spark of Decepticon third in command, Shockwave, with his bare hands only to put a cockpit in that son of a ***** bot, and used his new mecha to fight back an army of frost giants! Now-a-days he mostly sits behind Keith and reminds people not to be stupid while also trying to get his old friend back in the good fight. The experienced hero ran a hand over his cropped, brown hair and bore a half aware look of discomfort as an annoying notion passed through his mind. “Christ I hope this isn’t another Lunatic wanna be. Who would have ever guessed that guy would have enough of an impact to president three bastards going around shooting people with cross bows. Speaking of which those three are still locked up right?” Tom asked this while looking at RC, expecting a quick answer, only for another voice to chime in instead.

“No, only one is locked up since the second one jumped off a building because he thought he could fly, and the third one is still in the hospital after the beating you gave him.” The voice was deep, smooth, and sarcastic, belonging to a man who was only the latter of these. Vangelus, guardian of the great, snow covered north, builder of machines and machinations, and one time wielder of the entire morphing grid…for a total of ten minutes. It was an amazing ten minutes, however, that ended with the down fall of the second machine empire and Vangelus getting a cybernetic, right eye that glows when he gets pissed…or excited…or other things…pretty much any chance he gets to use the feature. However he also has his fair share of issues which include an even more sarcastic, non-corporeal version of him that makes unheard comments to almost everything he says. Strangely people can perceive these comments, yet do not actually hear them and claim it is like reading subtitles with your third eye. He is also the keeper of a powerful, dangerous meme that he keeps on his self at all times for emergencies…though he dreads using it since his alternate self goes on a bitching spree when he does so.

Clearing his throat to regain the attention of his fellows, RC enters into the closing words of his report. “It is in my opinion that this attack was not simply happenstance, but a calculated attack by an extremely skilled, and cunning individual. This archer, if that is what he indeed is, should be apprehended as soon as possible before he has a chance to turn his skills against us again. We are dealing with a very dangerous enemy, and we are all in danger as long as he is allowed to run free.”

Keith was silent for a moment but then began to laugh lightly. The laugh was a bit unnerving for a few present, but most knew their leader was only venting certain frustrations. “Blade Dancer is head of security in that district correct?” RC nodded and then presented the young woman’s profile on the projection. Blade Dancer was a skilled officer and was the current user of the Blade Rider System. Her pretty face hid her determination, and her lithe physique housed the soul of a warrior. Keith nodded and finished his bagel before continuing. “I’m authorizing her to use Jack Form and assigning four Birth users to her unit. Also make a request to S.P.D. on my behalf, RC, and…persuade them to send a Dekaranger team to the area. Our first priority is to find out who the attacker was and what his or her intentions are. If this individual is as cunning and dangerous as you believe, or as boisterous and mad as I believe, then the increased security should cause a reaction. I am looking forward to meeting this person. HA! I’m almost excited about it!”

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“Son of a *****!” the enigmatic star hero Hidden Masta screams as he savagely kicks a vending machine located in the messy kitchen of a low rent house. Within the tyrannical contraption is a bag of chips hanging loosely from its ring, which was paid for in full at some point. A few more obscenities and a round house kick result in the bag falling into the dispenser tray upon which Masta pulls the snack and throws it against a wall. Turning back to the machine, the black haired vigilante gives a fierce glare. “See that…got your goodies and I ain’t even gonna bother eating them. Vending machine, don’t you ever forget who saved you from that lonely parking lot. You’re just as much my ***** as this bastard here!” Masta flings his arm to his left and points toward a red haired man sitting at the kitchen table. Savior Den-O, a man that Masta had saved from danger only a day before, sat with a dumbfounded look on his face. The last twenty-four hours had been full of insane events perpetuated by what seemed to be an insane man. Yet, here the former junkie sat: cured of his addiction, clean clothes, shaved face, full stomach, and not beaten half to death in an alley way. He had met his fellow Disciples-O-Masta, who were all…unique, to say the least, and had found out that there were stars out there in space that were actually sentient. All this, plus the rescuing of an "abandoned" vending machine and a rather odd series of conversations had led to Masta inviting Savior to live with him.

Masta sat at the kitchen table and pulled out a book from among the pile of assorted items before him. As he began to read what looked like a guide to resisting mental invasion by telepaths during intercourse, Masta motioned to the table and spoke to Savior. “Hey man I don’t mind ya living here, but you got to clean up after yourself. This place is a pig sty.”

Savior looked around before looking back at his room mate/land lord/overlord in confusion. “But…you made this mess before I ever got here…”

Masta turned a page and waved his hand as if the man’s comment was a trivial detail. “Right, clean up my messes too. Congratulations, you are now my disciple, my tenet, my *****, and my maid. Besides since you don’t have a job or any money to your name you might as well do something constructive until I find something more constructive and useful for you to do. Now, get to it…that telepath down the road isn’t going to mentally screw herself in her dreams now is she? Is she? Dude is she already mentally screwing some other guy!? Savior is it you!? Tell me man if you are! I promise I won’t be mad I just don’t want to raise some other guy’s mental babies only to find out years later they aren’t mine and end up estranged to the only things I love more then myself! Me and my psychic dad haven’t talked for years because of **** like that!!!” Savior tries to speak but finds no words with which to defend himself from what seems to be an imposable notion. Masta swiftly turned the page in desperation and then suddenly calms down and smiles. “Oh…never mind we’re good. She is a type C telepathic projector so anything we do is just pure metal stimuli. Wooo...got worked up for nothing.”

“Ummm, Masta…I was wondering…you never did tell me why you have such a hard on for the Admins and Mods…much less Keith himself.” Savior’s question was answered with silence for several seconds before Masta turned a page, put in a book mark, and stood to his feet. He walked out of the apartment and waited for his acquaintance to join him. Savior followed and looked toward where Masta was now pointing: Justice Tower.

“See that giant, towering shaft violating the sky line? Well in there are the people that are supposedly defending our city from danger. Now, I know that they know something that I know that they shouldn’t know, and I want to know how they know about it. Dig it?”

Savior was quite again as he processed the answer before nodding his head.

“Good! Then you can fix the garden too!” Masta suddenly shoved a shovel into the red head’s hand and pointed to a row of dirt which looked neat enough, except for half buried yacht anchor sticking out of it. There was also something rolling around under the dirt, which revealed itself to be a three foot long, miniature grabloid when a bird landed and became the creatures next meal. “That’s Mini Masta, just leave him to his own devices and don’t make any loud noises. I befriended his people while meditating in the desert and helped them to defeat their hated enemies, the land shrimp…huge, seven foot long land shrimp…Mini Masta’s mother died in battle and I agreed to care for the little runt until he finds a way to evolve into a beautiful butterfly.” Masta stared off into space and Savior thought to say something about the actual reproductive and metamorphic processes of Grabloids. “I know what you are thinking: Grabloids usually become Shriekers and Assblasters…but Mini Masts is the chosen one that will bridge the gap between Grabloids and Mothra to become one of Earth’s guardian spirits! Now get to work…that defective boat seed won’t dig itself out.” Masta walked away and left Savior, once again, in a dumbfounded state. Part of him wanted to run for dear life, but when he reached into his pocket and pulled out the red switch he had recently received he was reminded of what he had felt. Masta might be insane…but something was definitely going on with these switches, and the ex-rider wanted to know more. He wanted to know more about the switches, the stars, and even Masta. Only time will tell if he is on the right course, or if he is just as deranged as his new ally.

“What was that!?”

Ummm…leader?

“Waiting…”

Supreme Leader?

“…”

…Supreme Overlord?

“Damn Straight.”
 
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Ziginz Zegell

No Fear, No Pain.
Awe forgot somthing! Easy fix!

EDIT: And fixed...wanted to do more info for Blade Dancer...but we can safe that for chapter four. I should start working on Chapter three while the iron is still hot!

Also I will probably makes a bold print version at some point that will have character's lines in...well...bold.
 
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Kylen

Viewtiful Henshin
This is how Masta rescused the finest of us from ourselves and gave us a purpose in life again. Now thanks to you I have to write more of it because you gave it a fancy name like Metafic....I knew this day would come.

I'll take pride in this fact. Metafic awayyyyyyy
 

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