Don't be offended at the title. "Teenagers" is just my way of saying "people who write unprofessional/shallow stories." Not all teenagers write shallow stories, it just sounds catchier.... Anyway.
The first thing I want to make clear is: I'm not talking about anything mechanical in this deviation. Grammar/spelling is important (obviously), but that point has been beaten to death by people on the internet already. My purpose, as always, is to talk about the stories themselves, regardless of the way they are communicated. Whether it be through written word or on-the-spot narration, I believe there are certain tricks to telling good stories. Not rules, mind you. Tricks.
I don't believe that telling good stories is about what you "should" do, rather than what you shouldn't. Example: people generally hate Mary Sues, right? Well, sometimes I notice things that are "like" Mary Sues, in the sense that they're equally as shallow/unprofessional ways of telling stories. The purpose of this deviation is to point them out. I won't be talking about Mary Sues or self inserts in this deviation. This is about things that tend to go more unnoticed (I already have deviations about those anyway).
1. Thinking that "most" = best
Sometimes people who write think they're making "the best story ever," because it's the MOST dramatic, MOST dark, MOST romantic MOST (insert your choice of adjective here). Having the most of something doesn't equate to it being the best. Think of it like salt.
Do you ever read a story, and it feels like there was a big hole in it? Maybe it was a tragedy that focused on nothing but tragic events. The author got carried away in their emotions and didn't create a well-rounded world for us to care about while the sad things take place. Sure, sad things are sad, but that is no accomplishment of the author. It would be MORE sad if the audience had a well-created world to be sad about in the first place. In fanfiction, the writers have the advantage of writing about something that people already care about. That's how a lot of people with barely any imagination can get so many people to like their fanfiction stories. "Hey! Let's take the Once-ler and find a way to drench him in blood! It sure took talent to think of that!" Never judge someone's imagination by how popular their fanfiction is. Never...
Sometimes people consider themselves to be a certain way. They write certain genres or about certain themes for the sake of adding to their self-proclaimed image. They use their stories as stepping stones (a lot of times without even realizing it) to show off in front of other people. A lot of times it's in the little things, strategically placed to look innocent or humble. "The woman shook her head in admiration at *insert-person-that's-supposed-to-be-like-them's-name.* 'That girl sure is *insert-their-choice-of-adjective!* We may never understand her!"
4. Abusing character roles (sort of a Part 2 of Narcissism)
I want you to think about Belle from Beauty in the Beast for a minute (the Disney version). If you're familiar with it, think of the song sung by the villagers about her in the beginning. Has anyone else ever noticed something...odd about it? The villagers are singing about how different (or "weird") she is, all because she reads books and acts like... well, the average girl you'd meet every day on DeviantArt. Meanwhile, if you met one of those villagers in real life, you'd probably think of THEM as the strange ones (first of all, they're abnormally nosy, all bothering to sing a big song about a perfectly normal girl whose personal life they REALLY bothered to have apparently looked so much into... o_O). Okay. I understand that can be a strategy in story telling (using the background to add to the general effect of a certain thing... i.e Belle wanting a break from her boring life). I bring this up however, mostly as a warning. I don't know how...um... healthy it is, that a lot of teenager girls these days really seem to think they're sooo great that they write stories about themselves and use other people as tools to look good. They make people (sometimes fake, sometimes real) in their stories impressed far too easily by themselves (or certain things) sometimes to the point even of contradiction. It falls into the same attitude as the narcissism example. Sometimes it goes beyond, "Oh, a cute little Disney story," and gets really narcissistic and vain. A story will suffer if it's written for anything besides the pure pleasure of writing it. Ulterior motives distract from making it the best it possibly can be. Not to mention, nobody likes being used as an audience for people who can't stop shining the spotlight on themselves. (It needed to be said). Furthermore, Disney movies are corny. It's a fact. That's why we like them. The point is simple: if you are writing a CORNY story, feel free to use their little trick of making the whole world conform to one character/theme (heck, make everyone burst into song about them!) If you're NOT writing a corny story, avoid it at all costs. It's a cheap trick, and it's no substitute for actually making there be something special about whatever character/thing you're trying to make something special about.
Fun fact: "Bully" characters are possibly the biggest form of abuse to story-telling. This can be in the form of a snooty, popular girl at school who picks on the main-character we're supposed to feel sorry for, or in the form of unreasonably/obsessively cruel bullies who are far from even borderline realistic. They're the classic example of cheating in a story; the cheapest way to make other characters seem special or victim-ly.
5. Pretty feelings
Did you ever put on an Owl City song while you were writing/drawing and think something like: Lalalalalala, beautifulness, and the dreams and the beautifullness of the wonderful outerspace, flying through the sky and the shooting stars lalala! Yeah, we could tell. No, seriously, it's fine to get your inspiration from wherever you want. Just make sure that while you're getting all into the music that you don't let the emotions that the song brings you be your only guide. Sometimes people get REALLY excited about their characters or a story they're making up and draw all this beautiful art of it, and you're like, "Hey! That's an amazing picture of the main character on a shooting star! So... when can I read this?!" Then you see the story, and think, "...this is it?" Don't fall into the trap of thinking that your emotions are the story. A lot of people who listen to music while they write make this mistake, though that isn't to say that listening to music when you write is always automatically bad.
To conclude this, there's really only one thing I want to say. Write because you like to. Write about things you like no matter what they are and force them to fit together. Write about things that you like and wouldn't be too ashamed to show your friends or family. Odds are, if you're too embarrassed to show it to the people you know best, it's not coming from the heart. I don't mean "your emotions" as your heart. It's not really YOU if it's something you're embarrassed of. Embarrassment can be a sign that you know deep down your story might be a wee bit... well, stupid. And then there are the people with no dignity.......
I love feedback. If anyone has anything interesting to add, I'd be glad to hear!
Do you remember all those years ago – when we first met? I remember it perfectly. I was so very close. So very, very close to my last shred of sanity snipping. And then I saw a peculiar little girl in white dress – you. Your left hand was occupied by a tattered doll. Your right was wet from wiping your tears. Your eyes began to water again, but I caught it for you that time. I still had a shred of humanity left, gnawing at my heart's strings to care for you, to pity, and to comfort. You were scared by my face, but I mustered a smile, and told you not to fear. You told me that you were lonely, that you were unloved.
And from that point on, I never left your side.
Do you remember all those years ago – when I saved your life? I remember it perfectly. The cursed fellow had threatened you, and I had intervened. You were bigger, but still, I needed to protect you. He chased you up the tower, calling you a monster, saying you needed to disappear. And then he drew his rapier. I had never moved faster in my life than I did grabbing that awful man by the brim of his ebony vestment. I had never acted as instinctively as I led him to the window. I had never whispered as softly as I did to you of reassuring, and to him of the pain of death. I had never been more deafened than by his scream as I cast him away.
Take away upon your black wings, bishop, for your mistress commands it.
Do you remember all those years ago – when you saw my face for the first time? I remember it perfectly. Soul of black I had retrieved, and offered it to the gentle flame I did. My flesh was deep and wrinkled no more. I turned to you, and you seemed shocked at my form. You were my height, and we were both exceedingly young. I could even remember a flicker of attraction…but no. I refused desire. My love for you was of parent to child, or of sibling to sister. And it was good that I refused, for you grew, oh so very fast. Soon, you towered above me, and regardless, I still guarded you with my life.
I made a promise to you, Priscilla. I promised that I would never let you see darkness.
Do you remember that short time ago – when the people gathered? I remember it perfectly. Ariamis gathered, and desired your pure blood. How shocked I was. How scared you were. They hurried to the theatre, where you and I often met. How ready I was. How well-hid you were. The crowd broke through, and I met them head-on. How ravenous I was. How aghast you were. Ariamis fell to my feet. How alive I was. How frightened you were. After I finished, I ran to you, and embraced you.
I fell the entire city as the ax man does the forest. I was invincible.
You would be safe forever.
Do you remember that short time ago – when I found the red rock? I remember it perfectly. I had slain anyone that came near you. Everyone was a threat, as everyone was present at the theatre that fateful night. And then you began to cry, for you were lonely again. I did everything I could to comfort you. Yet you ran from me, from your sole friend, terrified. So I brought new friends. I tempted those with Lifedrain to pursue me, as their master tempted them with the very art they wielded. I brought many new friends for you to meet.
I will do anything in my power to keep you safe, Priscilla.
Do you remember the fall of Ariamis? I remember it perfectly. The city crumbled under the assault of the Crimson Ones. All through the onslaught, you sought me. You found me in the theatre, and I greeted you merrily. But then you turned your blade on me. Your beautiful scythe sliced the air beside my head flawlessly. I was blank. My only friend wanted me dead. I begged you to stop as I evaded cut after cut. You screamed at me, calling me a monster. You claimed I was nicer when I looked to be a monster. You called all humans monsters. And then I held my weapon to receive a blow from the elegant scythe.
And that was perhaps the greatest mistake I ever made.
Your immense size…It threw me an admirable distance.
And then, you hooked your foot under my torso, and threw me off the edge with it.
When I finally landed, tears fell from my eyes as I felt my body fade, and the fiery ring burn brighter…
…I am back, Priscilla. I have come to fulfill my promise to you…
A short story about the Painted World of Ariamis, and it's fascinating inhabitant, Crossbreed Priscilla.
I say "fascinating" because unlike other bosses in Dark Souls, Priscilla lets you walk away without a scratch, only if you return the favor. Therefore, I made a little connection to the character and Priscilla.
*NOTE: This is in no way real Lore. Only a theory that was expanded into a writing.*
I hide I hear everything too loudly I am falling apart I grew up too fast I am still a child I cannot stand still I see every detail I panic I cannot remember what I'm doing I talk about dinosaurs and doctors and darkrooms I cry for no reason I do not have the ability to cry now I see the world differently I wish you saw it like me I have a puzzle to put together I wonder if you'll help me I hear a song and must sing it I see a picture and must take it I see a world, a broken world I want to fix that, too I want to play I need to work I close my eyes and fall asleep I remember everything I forget my head I stand in blue light I see the world in shades of blue I am lost I have been waiting for you I am the empty child Are you my mommy?
His girlfriend just dumped him some freshmen just jumped him his lifes got him stumped and hes so depressed so now he wears makeup to hide all his screwups he says life is pain were not impressed
same pain, different poem .
CHORUS: Were all being whiners lets put on eyeliner your lifes on a timer in Emo 101 her converse, his girl pants My Chemical Romance so many depressed bands in Emo 101
mood: apathetic hes feeling poetic but all those cosmetics cant help him write hes drinking and cutting with boys now hes smutting the world doesnt get him so he cries all night
same pain, different poem
Were all being whiners lets put on eyeliner your lifes on a timer in Emo 101 her converse, his girl pants My Chemical Romance so many depressed bands in Emo 101
dont forget to scream out on the very last note .
later that school year hes not glad to be here hes pouting cause someone called him feminine the storys just begun, hes not the only one Like Chester and Mike, theyre all CRAWLING IN THEIR SKIN
(I feel like tacos.) I said
Were all being whiners lets put on eyeliner your lifes on a timer in Emo 101 her converse, his girl pants My Chemical Romance so many depressed bands in Emo 101
(chorus again once)
her converse, his girl pants (same pain, different poem) My Chemical Romance (same pain, different poem) so many depressed bands in Emo 101 Dont be such a whiner (same pain, different poem) take off that eyeliner (same pain, different poem) youre all shitty rhymers in Emo 101
Okay, so I looooove Bowling for Soup... especially the song Punk Rock 101. Sooooo.... I was bored and procrastinating and wrote a parody.
NOOOOTE!!1 I actually have nothing against emos... seriously I don't. I just... had to. ...um, sorry if I offended you? But I was making a joke. I make fun of things I like (including myself, quite often) so please don't take it personally...
And I know I make a comment about their rhyming skillz... I like emo poetry, okay? I only put that in there because it was one of the few sensible words that rhymed with timer. (yeah, so... iiiii'd be the shitty rhymer in this scenario. XD) It's from the point of view of someone who hates emos. AKA not me exactly. XD
Punk Rock 101 (and thus, the tune for this song) (C) Bowling for Soup. Go listen to it. NOW.
Names Meaning Beelzebub Lord of the Flies 2 Kings 1:2, Matthew 12:24 Belial Worthless 2 Corinthians 6:15 Devil Slanderer, Accuser, Cutting through Matthew 4:1, Ephesians 6:10 Ha Satan The Accuser, Adversary Job 1:6 Matthew 4:10 Lucifer Lightbearer Isaiah 14:12 Satan Accuser, Adversary Job 1:6 Matthew 4:10
Titles A great fiery red dragon Revelation 12:3 A Liar John 8:44 A Murderer John 8:44 A Roaring Lion I Peter 5:8 An Angel of Light 2 Corinthians 11:14 The Accuser of our Brethren Revelation 12:10 The Adversary 1. Peter 5:8, I Timothy 5:14 The Deceiver Revelation 12:9 The Dragon Revelation 20:2 The Enemy Matthew. 13:39 The Father of Liars John 8:44 The god of Ekron 2 Kings 1:2 The god of this Age/World 2 Corinthians 4:4 The Great Dragon Revelation 12:9 The King of Babylon Isaiah. 14:4 The King of Tyre Ezekiel 28:11-17 The Prince/Ruler of Demons Matthew 12:24 The Prince of the power of the Air Ephesians 2:2 The Prince/Ruler of this World John 12:31 Satan who deceives the whole world Revelation 12:9 The Serpent of Old Revelation 20:2 The Son of the Morning Isaiah 14:12 The Spirit that now works in the Children of Disobedience Ephesians 2:2 The Tempter Matthew 4:3 The Wicked one I John 5:19
This was not a pleasant list to make and I debated rather or not to post it.
Before anyone gets any ideas I am NOT promoting demons or trying to glorify them!
But everywhere one looks, including here on DA, one sees tons of pictures and stories about demons; and hardly any of them are accurate and even less are Biblical.
Demons Do in fact exist and are not to be taken lightly! They are evil deceiving spirits whose purpose is to deceive and destroy.
Their leader, the Devil, exists as well. He feels only one emotion, hate and he exists only to destroy. And yet most people know nothing about him or else they treat him like a fairy tale, or even view him as something positive.
As Christians we are called to take part in spiritual warfare, but in order to do that we need to know our enemy and above all we need to now GOD’s Word!
Here then is a biblical list of some of the titles of Satan.
If soft vore or m/m is not your thing, leave now. These characters are my own creation. Do not steal or copy.
Over the course of the next week, Watch Two kept a sharp ear and eye out for any other Freewill factions. None showed up. Whatever the cult group had been planning, it had gone to dust with Watch Two's interference. Cetz breathed a sigh of relief and then had staff carry on as usual. There was still much equipment to go through. And there were daily trips back to the compound, each van coming back with a fill load.
On the third floor, it could have been a repeat of the scene from a week ago. Louis came into the Watch, grumbling under his breath about traffic and idiots on the road. His eyes, hidden behind a pair of lightly tinted grey sunglasses, were dark, wanting to snap like a whip at anyone who looked at him oddly. Then he saw William standing next to his desk with a large mug of steaming coffee, and a quiet smile on his face. Louis paused, his eyes narrowed.
The surrounding agents expected another shouting match, and tensed for the onslaught.
Louis took the mug. "Thanks," he mumbled.
"You're welcome," chirped William before going back to his desk.
The blonde agent settled down with his coffee, noting the whispers amongst the rest of the agents, but saying nothing. His smile was hidden behind the lip of the coffee mug as he took a sip. He had meeting with Rachel in the afternoon; another one of her infuriating checkups that had started a week ago. But it didn't seem so bad now that he had his coffee.
It wasn't until the coffee was finished that he saw the design on the other side of the mug.
William pinned an online newspaper article he had printed out onto the corkboard in the office area. He stepped back with pride.
"One less evil in the world."
"WILL!" Louis roared as he stomped towards him, the offending mug in hand. ""Kiss me I'm cranky"?!"
"Oh, I thought you'd never ask!" replied William before yelping and running down the hall. Louis followed close behind, yelling obscenities and waving the mug as if to use it as a deadly projectile.
Reese shook his head as he watched the two run out the office area. "Like Roadrunner and Coyote."
"Meep meep, thpppppt!" said Beni.
She looked at the page William had pinned.
"Downtown Deli Closed by Mass Food Poisoning"
William took part of his lunchtime off for his daily visit with Massaru, who was still recovering from his wounds. The healing was slow, but the Indian doctor took it with great patience and a smile. He seemed to the exception to the rule that doctors made the worse patients. Massaru waved Will in with a grin after a nurse set down his meal tray and the two continued their conversation from the day before. William had a homemade sandwich, not chicken salad, while Massaru had pasta. They switched desserts, sharing a pudding and homemade brownie.
"How long has it been since you've seen your son?" asked William.
"A little more than a year. He would be in his last year of college by now. The memory of him and my wife were one of the few things that kept me going while under Freewill."
"Do you know where he is?"
"With his mother I suppose. Last thing I heard from her was that he was getting serious about a girl."
"On the edge of asking permission for her hand in marriage from her parents. Old fashioned, yes, but a bit of a tradition amongst us Devis," said Massaru with a smile. "But that was almost six months ago. For all I know he's already married."
"Maybe some small Devis on the way?"
"Maybe. Speaking of relationships I heard from the nurse about that mug you gave Louis. You know I warned you against that."
William grinned around his spoonful of pudding. "I know. But seeing the look on his face was priceless."
"You enjoy antagonizing him, looking like a "idiot fanboy" as he calls it. Why?"
William shrugged. "He's in need of something to trigger that temper of his before it grows too big. Maybe if I can get under that I can reach his sense of humor."
"You think he has one?"
"I've heard him laugh before. He can do it again. And I you know how in grade school, boys would tug on girl's hair or push them. It was their way of saying "I like you". I think me and Louis are kind of like that, I tease him because I care about him."
Before long William's lunchtime was up. He lingered at the doorway.
"If you want I can look up your family and see where you son is. The databases are massive; if there's any way of finding out what he's doing the Watch can do it."
The doctor smiled. "I would be grateful."
Cetz and Rachel were the only other ones in the testing area of the Medical lab. It was a dimmed to half light, and the BT-10 scanner was humming away when Louis entered.
"The lab rat has arrived," he growled. "What kind of torture have you got for me today?"
"Strength testing," replied Rachel indifferently as she checked something off on her clipboard. "And then seeing your reactions with different types of light."
"Great," drawled Louis as he took his shades off, his eyes squinting at the brightness of the lab. He sat on a table and Cetz stood next to him, his voice low.
"You still don't want to tell Will how you really got back to normal?"
"Normal?" Louis stared hard at the florescent lighting and his stature suddenly shrunk to below three inches, making him barely a toy on the table. "You call this normal?"
Having seen Louis shrink dozens of times before, Cetz was not phased. "Don't change the subject. You'll have to tell him someday."
"Yeah someday, when the information is needed, not before. We still don't know if this is permanent or if it will fade away."
Cetz shrugged and went back to helping Rachel set up her equipment. Louis, alone on the wide plane of the table, felt isolated. He rubbed his eyes.
The aftermath of the Freewill mission. Will has lunch with Doctor Devi, and the reason's behind Louis's medical exams are explained.
Yeah, y'all are gonna hate me for this. But I'm going to leave the story like this; open-ended, capable of so much more... but that's it.
This is not the end of me writing about Will and Louis. I hope one day to come back to these characters. I have SO many ideas for them, and I've already hinted at trials and tribulations in their near future. It would be crazy to leave these guys hanging. But that's it. FOR NOW. ^_^
Until I can get my time together to write more, please enjoy the chapters I have posted.
“Nileas!” Ausrius bellowed again. He could find no trace of his fellow, even with his enhanced senses, and helmet overlay. No trace of the daemon either. He surveyed the cavern again, slowly re-examining all the corners. He checked the load in his bolter, and advanced, weapon at the ready, continuing to scan in visible light, infrared, and wireframe overlay. The ripples and folds of the tunnel played tricks on the mind, casting odd shadows and concealing entire caverns behind seemingly solid formations of stone. “Nileas,” he voxed again. “Brother, do you copy?” Likewise the dense rock played havoc with the vox net. He had no contact with his squad commander, or Imperial forces on the surface, and, up until a quarter-hour ago, only intermittent contact with his battle brother, and that plagued by static. Now it seemed that too was gone. Something slithered across stone nearby; something massive. Ausrius turned sharply, bringing the bolter up. He couldn’t see it, but it was dangerously close. He moved forward, stalking the hideous presence. Though he and his squad were nominally doing the hunting, he could not shake the feeling of being hunted. He heard the clicking of insectoid limbs and mouthparts; the heavy slithering sound again. Overlapping echoes, reflecting and magnifying sounds in unpredictable ways, made it impossible to tell where the source of the sound was. He slowed, almost shuffling as he came around a shoulder of stone into an entirely new section of the cave. The broad chamber was dome-like, and smooth, the space carved out over millennia by the slow trickle of water. Stalactites depended from the ceiling in eerily organic formations. Stalagmites of formidable stature loomed from the uneven floor. Some were as large around as Ausrius himself. Others were even larger. A damp mineral smell pervaded, but Ausrius’ charmed senses detected notes of other things: Astartes sweat ripe with glanded stimulants and pain suppressants, the burned-metal and melted electrical smell of damaged ceramite armor. Blood. Nileas had passed through here. The scents told him his brother was hard pressed, but gave him some thin hope that his fellow yet lived. There was also an odor of organic decay, rancid meat, ozone and cold – that was the warp beast. The thing lurked here somewhere. Even without the smell, Ausrius could sense its hateful existence. It was like a cold whisper down the back of his neck. A feeling of utter wrongness. But he still could not see it. He saw Nileas first, leaning heavily against a stalagmite formation. His battle brother was sorely wounded, even his gene-hanced physiology laboring under the awful damage he had taken. His beautiful red and gold power armor was dented and sheared apart, splashed with bright blood. His left pauldron had been torn away completely, as well as the lower vambrace and gauntlet. His naked hand, large as it was, seemed tiny and fragile against the bulk of his armor. The chainsword in his right fist snarled at idle. “Nileas.” Ausrius started forward to his brother’s aid. Nileas’ helmet was also gone, but he did not need the vox speaker to amplify his formidable voice; “Keep back!” He threw up his left hand, bloody palm out, to emphasize the command. “It is here.” The thing was on them in that moment. It moved like lightning, like a striking serpent, and a spider, and every terrible thing imagined by human nightmares. It was too big to move that fast! Ausrius unloaded his bolter at it as it dove and surged around the chamber. It had too many limbs and too many joints in those limbs and parts of its body were like smoke or oil, shifting and reforming in ways that made him nauseous to behold. Nileas tried to keep his face toward the thing, his back to the stone, and always the purring chainsword between them. The atrocity suddenly threw itself at the wounded Astartes. Its face – if such a perversion could be said to have a face – split apart, the lower half of the elongated, skull-like head separating into four greedy mandibles. It’s tooth-lined maw was large enough to swallow a Space Marine whole, power armor and all. Nileas braced, holding the chainsword out, ready to meet the thing head on. Ausrius poured bolter fire down its throat. It squealed, shrieked and writhed in on itself in impossible ways. Ausrius shuddered with revulsion, but kept shooting, reloading when the magazine ran empty. One mis-jointed limb shot out and impaled Nileas with a blade-claw more than a meter long. It sheared through his ceramite armor like it was nothing. The Astartes groaned aloud. Ausrius roared his fury. Nileas struck, slashing off the blade-limb even as it was withdrawn with the same uncanny speed. The chainsword bit through hard carapace and fleshy inner parts, the blade snarling and gurgling. Hurt, the daemon wheeled, flailing limbs and loose coils of itself. It threw Nileas to the floor before boiling away into the shadows, into the next chamber down the tunnel. “Nileas!” Ausrius charged to his brother’s side and knelt protectively over him, the bolter still held ready. Nileas groaned again, blood ran from his mouth. He was panting for breath and Ausrius thought he might be relying entirely on the smaller third lung. Blood poured from the wound. Normally Astartes blood clotted quickly, they were fast healers and could weather monstrous amounts of punishment and brutal pain. But Nileas was past all limits. “I’ll get you out of here, Brother,” Ausrius promised. “No, Hellan.” “Fortitude,” Ausrius urged him. He slung his bolter across his back and lifted Nileas’ shoulders, supporting him to ease his breathing. “Fortitude,” Nileas agreed, “and faith. You will need both... for this mission. Take it.” He pointed toward the chainsword. He had dropped it when the monster threw him down and the blade had cut off automatically. Ausrius hesitated. “My brother,” he said, “I don’t understand.” “You must finish it,” Nileas charged him solemnly. “Destroy that abomination. Burn it from existence. In the Emperor’s name. You must not fail in this.” He spoke haltingly, as his breathing labored, but with fierce conviction. Slowly, Ausrius understood. Still cradling his dying battle-brother with one arm, he reached out and grasped the hilt of Nileas’ chainsword and lifted it. The elder Space Marine nodded. “Finish this,” he sighed, at the end of his strength. “I will, Brother.” “Swear.” Blood pooled on the stones beneath them, and dripped from his mouth. Fighting despair at the weight of responsibility hanging over him, Ausrius drew a tight breath. He firmed his grip upon the chainsword, the heft of a ready weapon always a comfort. It was an ancient and venerable piece, marked with a roll of honor stretching back into the far history of Kermodes Squad. Dozens of Howling Griffons heroes had carried this blade into battle for Guilliman and the Imperium, for the Emperor. Drawing his strength from their memory, and their example, he improvised an oath; “Upon this weapon, and by the Throne of Terra, I swear to pursue this mission until I have succeeded, or until I am dead.” Nileas reached up and pressed the bloody palm of his left hand to Ausrius’ cuirass, a make-shift seal to witness and acknowledge the oath. He let the hand fall and his head rolled back. He was failing; this nigh-immortal super soldier, this hero, was sliding rapidly down to death, and Ausrius could not help him. “Brother,” the younger Astartes began. “Go,” Nileas charged him. It was a whisper, but it carried such weight of authority it could not be refused. Ausrius knew every moment he lingered was another moment the warp-beast had to make good its escape. He loathed the thought of abandoning his battle brother to die alone, but he also knew Nileas expected him to place duty foremost. Gently, he lowered Nileas to the ground. “Rest easy, brother.” Nileas could not answer. He clasped his armored right fist across his ruined chest, a warrior’s salute. He closed his eyes against the pain of each shallow, sucking breath. Ausrius steeled himself and turned away, advancing in the direction the monster had gone. As much as he wanted to, he did not look back. His brother would not expect such sentimentality, and the beast could strike again at any moment. He held Nileas’ chainsword right-handed, in a low guard, and drew his bolt pistol with his left hand. The bolter rode by its sling, in reserve. He had also the simple but reliable gladius, and three grenades. It wasn’t much. He hoped it would be enough. The beast had left its scent like spoor and Ausrius followed that, trying not to gag on the stench of corruption. Black, oily fluid pooled on the stones in places, faintly sizzling; the noxious ichor which served the thing as blood. They had hurt it, and if it could be hurt, it could be killed. He paused as he heard it; slithering, chittering to itself. It sounded like it was right beside him, though he could not see it, the acoustics of the cave playing tricks again. He moved steadily forward, ever vigilant. He could smell ozone and felt the unholy chill he associated with psykers and the warp. It almost escaped. He came upon it just as it approached the portal. Ausrius had never seen anything like it. It was a hole in reality. A cold rush of air, and faint mist drifted out of this impossible gateway. The warp daemon sensed his approach and turned its neck inside out to bring its obscene head around to face him. It flared its mouthparts at him. It seethed, limbs and spines and eyes and hungry mouths full of teeth appearing and disappearing across its flesh in a wave that traveled down and around its length. It was taunting him. It made a wet, basso, shuddering, purring sound and rolled like a water serpent in a spiral swimming motion into the portal. It flowed into the unreality as if sinking through the surface of a mirror. Ausrius had seen many terrible things in his decades of service with the Adeptus Astartes. He had weathered them with commendable stoicism, but now he wavered. Astartes do not feel fear, but alone in this dark desolate place, faced with such an unspeakable monstrosity, and the prospect of following it through a warp gate to an unknown destination, Hellan Ausrius came very close. How could he, alone, hope to succeed against this? He controlled his breathing, willed his racing pulse steady. He swallowed the bile which had risen in his throat. He fought down the urge to vomit, conquered the tremor in his limbs. He recalled his oaths, and his debt to Nileas. He had no choice, he had to proceed. He clenched his fist on the grip of the chainsword and thumbed the activation stud. The blade snarled into life. Leading with that august weapon, and with a prayer to the God-Emperor on his lips, he strode forward into the warp gate.
Notes: Guilliman is the Primarch of the Ultramarines Legion, according to my research the Howling Griffons Chapter is derived from the Ultramarines.
For those not familiar, the Space Marines often swear oaths specific to the mission they are about to undertake, these are usually witnessed by their battle brothers and commemorated by an oath paper which is sealed to their armor. images.dakkadakka.com/gallery/…
The description and function of the 'warp gate' is based on similar device found in the Gaunt's Ghosts novel His Last Command by Dan Abnett.
Rough concept art for the warp daemon: and Hellan Ausrius:
Ray: Alright, the combatants are set. Let’s settle this debate once and for all.
Steel: It’s time for a DEATH BATTLE!!!
All was calm as a massive galleon cruised across the ocean's surface, its lion-head bowsprit and straw-hat wearing Jolly Roger noticeable anywhere. From its deck, one could hear merry music from a fiddle, and the members of the crew either singing or dancing along to it.
Joining them in the festivities was the captain of this ship known to all as "Thousand Sunny". That captain was none other than the famed Straw-Hat Luffy.
The song came to an end and the skeletal fiddler took a bow, his art complete. If he had a proper face, he would have smiled at the cheers.
“WOW!” Luffy said with a broad smile, “Play it again!”
Yet as the crew celebrated, a simple-looking steamboat was coming across their path up ahead. At first, the crew paid no mind to it. That all changed because, just when the skeleton was about to draw his bow across the strings of his instrument, another tune cut across him, catching the immediate attention of the ship's captain.
The song in the distance sounded a little something like this...
I'm Popeye the Sailor Man Popeye the Sailor Man I'm strong to the finich, ‘cause I eats me spinach I'm Popeye the Sailor Man
I'm one tough Gazookus, which hates all Palookas. Wot ain't on the up and square. I biffs 'em and buffs 'em and always out roughs 'em but none of 'em gets nowhere.
If anyone dares-es to risk me fist, It's "Boff" an' it's "Wham" un'erstan'? So keep "Good Be-hav-or", That's your one life saver With Popeye the Sailor Man.
I'm Popeye the Sailor Man Popeye the Sailor Man. I'm strong to the finich, ‘cause I eats me spinach. I'm Popeye the Sailor Man!
Luffy growled in frustration. Not only did he not like the music (for reasons beyond even the most brilliant mind in the world), but it had cut off a perfectly good song from Brook.
“HEY!” Luffy shouted, hoping the owner of the boat would hear him, “You’re interrupting our music!”
On receiving no response, Luffy was prepared to put an end to it personally. One of his crew, a gorgeous redheaded woman, seemed to sense this.
“Oh no,” Nami said, shaking her head furiously, “Don’t even think about it. Just leave the ship alone, it’s not even attacking or bothering us!”
Too late. Luffy had pulled back a fist and sent it rocketing at the ship, creating a massive hole in its side. It slowed and then slowly began to sink.
On the sinking ship’s deck, the man singing the song was not amused. His surprisingly-twisted face twisted even more as he looked around for what had caused his vessel damage. Popeye squinted and then spotted it: a massive galleon, the only one around for miles.
“Why those no good, stinkin’ pirates! I needs to teach ‘em a lesson they won’ts forget!” Popeye growled, then dove into the sea and swam towards the ship.
Back on the Thousand Sunny, Luffy nodded with satisfaction. “Good. I hated those guys.”
“Wha?! You didn’t even know them!” Nami snapped, trying not to scream at her captain. Sometimes what went through his mind was beyond any of his crew.
Something tapped him on the shoulder and Luffy turned around…only to have a fist nail him in the chin. The resulting impact sent him careening into the air and he sailed in a massive arc to land with a “thud” and a dust cloud on an island off in the distance.
“Don’t get yer hopes up, kid, ‘cuz I ain’t through with ya!” Popeye added, then dove back into the sea and swam after him.
Nami was shocked at what she had seen. She had been through some crazy stuff, but this was new even to her.
Luffy pulled himself out of the sandy shore of the island and looked around. “Where am I? And what just happened? Last thing I remember is this fist coming into my face…”
Luffy turned to see Popeye storming towards him, stopping a few yards away, his fists clenched. Not quite sure what to make of this guy, Luffy tilted his head to the side curiously.
“Who are you?” the Straw-Hat captain asked.
“I’m Popeye the Sailor man.” Popeye answered, tooting his pipe like a whistle twice, then asked, “Who are you?”
“My name is Luffy, and I’m gonna be the King of the Pirates.” Luffy answered with a smile.
“Pirate,huh?Guessitmakessensewhyhesunkmyboat…” Popeye muttered (without even moving his lips at that), then returned to his normal voice, “Well, for wreckin’ my boat, I gotta hurt ya, kid.”
“You wanna fight?” Luffy asked, then put up a fist and smiled again, “Well, bring it on! I don’t plan on dying today!”
“Bring it on, ya little squirt! It’s time for me to roughs ya up!” Popeye said, hunching forward ready for battle.
The time had come for a showdown for the world’s most powerful pirate and the most powerful sailor: a battle to determine the King of the Seas.
“Gum-Gum…” Luffy pulled back a fist, then threw it at Popeye on an elongated arm, “Pistol!”
The fist flew forward like a bullet and Popeye only just managed to sidestep it. As Luffy retracted his arm, Popeye actually followed it, pulled back a fist of his own and slammed it into Luffy’s visage.
Luffy’s neck stretched backward, taking his head with it and snapped back into place…only to meet Popeye’s fist yet again, resulting in the same event again, and again, and again in a comedic fashion.
Luffy had had enough and, the next time his head stretched back on his neck, he saw a nearby palm tree, opened his mouth, and latched his teeth into its bark. After a moment of tension, in which Popeye wondered just why Luffy’s head wasn’t coming back for a good “biffin’ and boffin’” as he put it, Luffy’s body shot backward so fast that it seemed to teleport.
Luffy let the recoil of his body returning wear off, then launched his rubbery fist at Popeye again. Popeye evaded yet again, but this was not Luffy’s intention. He actually opened his hand to latch onto a boulder behind Popeye, pulled himself back a bit, then let go.
“Gum-Gum…” Luffy said, extending his free arm, “SICKLE!” Popeye’s eyes widened as Luffy’s arm slammed into his neck at high speed, sending Popeye into the rock behind him.
Popeye hit the rock with enough force to leave an imprint of himself, yet the groan he emitted as he peeled off it gave an indication that he survived. Luffy was not going to let up, though, and latched onto Popeye, his rubbery arms and legs wrapping around the cockeyed sailor’s limbs.
“Gum-Gum…” Luffy said, pulling back his head, stretching his elastic neck to gain momentum, “BELL!”
Moments before Luffy’s head rocketed back, Popeye had an idea. He pulled back his own head (not as far as Luffy’s, though) and the two craniums collided. The vibrations form the impact coursed through both of their bodies and, while Luffy didn’t complain in the slightest, all Popeye did was grumble at the pain…and showed no sign of injury.
“Okay, ya little runt, how’s about I heat things up?” Popeye said, then turned his corncob pipe upside down, took a deep breath, then blew into the pipe.
Rather than emit a huge cloud of smoke, the corncob pipe emitted a small flame akin to a welding torch. The flame jetted out, striking Luffy right on the shirt. The part that was struck quickly burst into flame and Luffy, with a yelp, sprang off and began trying to put it out.
Popeye shook himself loose, then charged Luffy and sprang into the unlikeliest place one would imagine: right under Luffy’s shirt…where he seemed to disappear. Luffy stared, wide-eyed, at what the sailor accomplished and searched under his article of clothing wildly for his opponent, yet he was nowhere to be seen.
Luffy turned to his right, feeling someone tap him on the shoulder…and was met with a fist to his face from a familiar, anchor-tattooed arm. Mentioned arm then retreated back to where it came from: just under the right part of his collar. Luffy grabbed at it, but only found empty space. Yet, as he pulled back after grabbing thin air, the same muscular arm popped out from under his sleeve and pinched his nose, as though honking a bike horn.
After a split-second of surprise, Luffy quickly got the idea and grabbed the arm. “A-ha! I gotcha!” he exclaimed in triumph.
“Oh, no ya don’t.” Popeye replied from inside Luffy’s shirt, “I’ve got YOU.”
Luffy raised a brow, then attempted to pull the legendary sailor out of his shirt. One could imagine his shock, though, when he stopped for a second and an even stronger force pulled his arm further down his shirt. Luffy gritted his teeth and pulled with all his might, yet couldn’t dislodge Popeye.
Luffy’s straining halted when, suddenly, he lost his grip on Popeye’s wrist like he was holding a greased eel and, comically, fell flat out on his back from the change of force. Popeye hopped out, then prepared to sock it to Luffy from above only to see his rubbery adversary roll backward and stretch both his arms behind him.
At the peak of their back-stretch, both of Luffy’s hands sprang forward and slammed into Popeye’s midsection. The sailor bent forward, the wind getting blasted from his lungs, then rocketed backward into the lightly-wooded area further inland.
Popeye landed, noggin-first, into the trunk of a palm tree then fell to the ground like a plank of wood being dropped. He picked himself up, then jumped slightly as a pair of hands grabbed a pair of trees not far from him.
Popeye wound up a punch just as the arms retracted, slinging Luffy at Popeye like a bullet. Before Luffy came too close, a fist planted itself firmly into his chin. Luffy flew up in an arc before falling back to the ground, his still-elongated arms comically falling onto him in a rubbery heap.
Luffy freed himself of the tangled mess of his arms, then pulled back his right leg like he was ready to kick a soccer ball. “Gum-Gum STAMP!” When Luffy threw his leg forward, everything from the calf down extended forward like a spear, Luffy’s sandal-clad foot nailing Popeye right in the chest.
Popeye’s back slammed into a rock and, when he looked down, he saw a very distinctive footprint in his chest. After mumbling something about how expensive it would be to get removed, he jumped into the air and came back down, spinning in a reverse-pirouette to drill into the ground below him.
Luffy stared, wide-eyed in wonder, at what Popeye had just accomplished. “WOW! What kind of fruit did he eat?” he asked in astonishment. Luffy felt something coming, then hopped out of the way just as Popeye burst from the ground beneath him. Popeye’s fist hit air as he sprang out, leaving him open.
“Gum-Gum SHOTGUN!” Luffy said, throwing out a fist, then twanging it. It looked like multiple fists had struck from just one arm.
Popeye merely reached out and seized Luffy around the wrist, halting the twanging. “You’re a slick one, rubber-boy, but let’s have us a little fun now.” With that said, Popeye raised Luffy’s arm, then brought it sharply back down like a whip, sending a wave right down the length of the arm.
The resulting force flipped Luffy on his back with a yelp in surprise. The next moment, he was tugged right at Popeye, who proceeded to twirl Luffy around like a lasso (even going to the liberty of performing a few tricks worthy of wild-west cowboys) and tossing him away.
Luffy landed, cat-footed, on his feet and made the conclusion that, in his current condition, he wasn’t going to win. He closed his eyes in focus, then snapped them open as steam began to flow from his legs. In the blink of an eye, he was right in front of Popeye and before the mighty sailor could comprehend it.
“Gum-Gum Jet Stamp!”
Popeye rocketed backward, his eyes not even catching just what had happened. All he knew was that he felt like he had been hit full in the chest by a charging train. As he tumbled to a halt, he only had time to get up before he caught sight of something.
His corncob pipe almost fell out of his mouth as a giant fist, comparable in size to a massive tree trunk, raised itself high into the air. “Gum-Gum GIANT PISTOL!”
Popeye yelped in surprise, then ran as fast as he could to the side just as the giant fist flew at him. The fist smashed through the ground like it was cheap glass, then retracted. Popeye took quick advantage of his opponent’s need to retract and, as the giant arm deflated and retracted back to its owner, Popeye held on tightly, hitching a ride to his rubbery opponent.
Popeye hopped off the appendage as soon as Luffy was in sight, then threw a flurry of punches at Luffy. Much to his frustration, Luffy sidestepped each attack as if he knew it was coming.
Luffy decided to put an end to Popeye’s assault and shouted, “Gum-Gum BALLOON!” With that, Luffy’s entire torso inflated into a giant, flesh-colored ball. The minute Popeye’s fist made contact with it, it bounced off. The recoil sent Popeye stumbling backward, and Luffy seized his chance.
“Gum-Gum JET GATLING!” Luffy leaned forward and his arms were suddenly a blur that began to pummel Popeye, who could only put up his arms to shield himself…if only a little bit.
“I can’t stands no more!” Popeye managed to get out before the punches broke past his defense and sent him flying backward.
Popeye skidded to a halt and now knew that, if there ever was a situation for his trump card, that situation was “NOW”. “Alright, you got a few circus acts. Guess what? I gots a few, too.” Popeye said, ready to meet this challenge with one of his own.
Popeye reached into his abnormally-deep pants pocket and pulled out a large tin can labeled “Spinach”. He gave the can a good squeeze until it burst open at the top, its green contents flying into the air. It came back down right into Popeye’s gaping mouth.
After munching down on the spinach for a brief moment, Popeye swallowed and the effects of eating his greens were instantaneous. His whole body flowed with a new energy and he flexed his muscle, forcing a bicep up to preposterous levels.
As for the metaphorical image you see in that muscle every time Popeye eats spinach? It was Goku firing off a Kamehameha.
Anyhoo, Popeye saw a pair of hands had reached just behind him and seize two trees behind him and had a good idea as to what was coming. He braced himself, his whole body composition morphing to resemble a Popeye statue made entirely of brick.
“Gum-Gum Jet Rocket!”
Luffy collided with Popeye at sonic-speeds, intent on finishing him off here and now with a powerful headbutt. One could imagine his surprise when, rather than send Popeye into agony and/or death, he ricocheted off with a bell-like “dong”. Popeye seemed completely unscathed while Luffy lay on his back, clutching his now-aching skull.
It was truly odd to him. Most of Popeye’s previous blows hadn’t even hurt him at all, yet he just now withstood one of Luffy’s stronger attacks AND did something that managed to hurt him.
Luffy roared back to his feet and unleashed another “Gum-Gum Jet Gatling” on Popeye, hoping to pummel him again. Popeye’s response was to wind up both of his fists and actually MIRROR him. The sailor man’s fists were now also blurs and met Luffy fist-for-fist.
Luffy, now really starting to get ticked that this guy was matching him, pulled back his fists and called off the attack. He then twisted his right arm like a corkscrew and shouted “Gum-Gum JET RIFLE!”
The Jet Rifle flew at Popeye…who merely reached up and caught his fist without wavering. The energy behind the arm’s now-spiraling form was suddenly released, resulting in Luffy spinning around like a propeller before sailing off to his right when Popeye let go.
Luffy landed on his feet, then forced as much air into his arms as he could. “Gum-Gum GIANT GATLING!”
Popeye put both of his thumbs in his mouth, took a deep breath, then actually mirrored Luffy again. In seconds, both his anchor-tattooed arms were the same size as Luffy’s. Again, Popeye had the Strawhat Captain matched move-for-move.
Then Popeye opened one of his hands and caught Luffy’s own by the wrist. With a “flick”, Luffy was catapulted high into the air before slamming back down on the ground. Next thing he knew, he was jerked towards Popeye and before he could put up any adequate defense, Popeye’s other gigantic fist slammed into him.
The resulting impact sent Luffy tumbling across the ground, skidding to a halt on a sandy beach. If his Gears wouldn’t work, then he’d have to use his ultimate techniques. It was time for using some Armament Haki.
Luffy stretched back an arm, the area from his fist down to his forearm turning the color of a cannonball, then shouted “Gum-Gum BULLET!”
Both of Popeye’s eyes widened as a pitch-black fist slammed into his visage, sending him rocketing into the air. Yet, as Popeye flew above the treetops, he was readying a counterattack. He twirled his pipe around until it faced his feet, took a deep breath, then exhaled out his smoking utensil as hard as he could.
A jet of flame erupted from the rather small object and, within seconds, Popeye had halted his backward-going momentum and flew forward like a rocket. Luffy shrieked in surprise as Popeye came at him with a barrage of punches to the pirate’s face. Normally, this would be no threat, but the Observation Haki seemed oddly ineffective. This was because of Luffy being completely caught by surprise and the fact that Popeye (and every punch he threw) was, somehow, moving far too fast for that particular form to be effective. Worse still, just like the last time, Popeye was somehow managing to hurt Luffy with pure blunt force alone…without Haki, no less.
Popeye only halted his barrage of punches only to sock Luffy full into the air with a sharp uppercut. While waiting for Luffy to come down, Popeye took his right wrist in his left hand and twisted his whole arm until it resembled a large piece of rope. Then, as Luffy came down, he slammed it into the pirate captain’s midsection, pinning Luffy to a tree. As an added effect, his twisted arm untwisted, spinning Luffy fast enough to buff the bark off the tree…and eventually splinter it under the force.
Luffy hit the ground, but was back on his feet, fuming with rage. “Gum-Gum…” Luffy’s fist grew to giant proportions yet again, only this time it was pitch-black with the Armament Haki, “ELEPHANT PISTOL!” With that exclamation, Luffy threw his fist forward. He'd like to see the anchor-armed sailor top THIS.
Popeye spotted the giant, obsidian hand coming at him like a gigantic cannonball, ready to blow him away, yet did not attempt to move out of the way in the slightest. He wound up a fist, spinning it fast enough that it could have been a propeller. When he was fully wound up, and Luffy’s fist was inches away from splattering him all over the island, Popeye launched his fist forward, making contact with the black surface.
A tremor went down the entire length of the arm and, for a split second, nothing appeared to have happened. Then the black surface of the arm actually cracked like an eggshell. Just a few appeared at first, then it spread and spread quickly until the Armament Haki literally shattered like glass.
The force of the impact jarred Luffy to the point that he fell on his seat. He then charged Popeye, his legs pumping him as fast as he could go. As he ran, he stretched an arm behind him that started out pitch-black, but quickly turned bright gold before being completely engulfed in flames.
Too late. Popeye spotted him, saw his flaming appendage, then took a deep breath and blew as hard as he could. The resulting flow of air was comparable to a hurricane wind…if it was much, MUCH stronger. Not only did the winds slow Luffy to a crawl, they also extinguished the fire on his arm like he was blowing out a birthday candle.
“Yes,birthdaywishesandall.Timetofinishyaoff,squirt.” Popeye grumbled, then socked the oncoming boy in the chin again, sending him up into the air once more.
This time, he made sure this would be the last time.
When Popeye spotted Luffy coming back down, he dug his fingers into the ground and pulled as hard as he could. At first glance, one would think that he was going to pull open a crevice in the ground.
Popeye pulled and pulled when, with a paper-like ripping sound, the very page you are reading this fight on tore right across the page. “Let’s see ya come back from THIS, ‘soon-to-be King of Pirates’.”
Luffy was just coming back down when he spotted oblivion awaiting him where he intended to land. He yelped as he fell down the crevice, then reached up with an elongated arm and just grabbed the edge of the tear.
Popeye spotted him and emitted a disgruntled growl, but then rubbed his hands together as an idea came to him. “Oh, look! Piggies!”
Popeye walked over to Luffy’s fingers, then wedged his thumb under his index finger. “This little piggy went to market…” With a “twang”, he pried the finger loose and Luffy’s eyes widened.
“Gum-Gum Pistol!” Luffy shot his other arm in an attempt to dislodge Popeye or get another grip to help himself up.
“Quit it, ya little whelp!” Popeye said, casually swatting the rubbery limb away, “I’m tryin’ to count piggies! This little piggy stayed home…” He pried Luffy’s middle finger loose.
“Gum-Gum Rocket!” Luffy said, his arm retracting, ready to spring him up and headbutt the cockeyed sailor…only to be met with the same fate as his hand.
“I said ‘cut it out’!” Popeye said, grouchily, socking Luffy back down to dangle from his last two fingers. “THIS little piggy had roast beef…” Luffy was now dangling from his pinky and could only watch in horror as Popeye said the last six words he would ever hear.
“And this little piggy had NONE.”
Popeye dislodged Luffy’s final finger and the captain of the Strawhat Pirates fell off the page into the whiteness of oblivion. His screams died down as he fell…forever.
“Hey, author! Stop bein’ so grim!” Popeye shouted, “And patch this up, will ya?”
At that point, a human hand with a sewing needle and thread went to work. Within a few seconds, it had patched up the page. To make sure it was safe, Popeye set foot on it: sturdy as a rock.
Popeye sighed in relief, then dove into the water. A brief moment later, he had hauled the entire wreckage of his boat out of the water and set to work repairing it.
Steel: (pause) What the heck did I just see?
Ray: I’m not entirely sure, but at least we have a winner. While Luffy is, without a doubt, one of the strongest people to have ever taken to the sea, Popeye’s savvy, cartoon-level durability, and spinach ultimately triumphed.
Steel: Luffy would not likely make the connection of Popeye’s strength and spinach (even if he DOES sing it in his song) because Popeye saves it as a last resort. Plus, the entire thing played out like a Popeye cartoon.
Ray: Luffy would make short work of Popeye when he was in base form, Gears Second and Third and his Haki would ensure that. However, when Popeye ate his spinach, his strength, speed, durability, and powers exceed that of ANY One Piece character.
Steel: How do those stats hold up? For starters, Popeye was strong enough to move the entire EARTH, which (as “Goku vs. Superman” stated) means he can lift up to 6.6 quintillion tons, exceeding just about ANY of Luffy’s feats of strength. Taking into consideration that Armament Haki can be broken with enough force, this means that Popeye is MORE than strong enough to break through it.
Ray: Popeye also once flew from the moon to Earth in under five seconds. This means that his top speed is at least Mach 13, but it IS likely that he can go faster; fast enough to fight past the effects of Observation Haki. Popeye has also dealt with supernatural entities, like ghosts and genies, so the Devil Fruits would likely mean nothing to him when spinach-fueled.
Steel: And before you bring up the Conqueror’s Haki, Popeye has both a strong will and a power level equal to, or greater than, that of Luffy’s. Crack your own Dragonball Z joke here.
Ray: Now, we can argue about feats of strength, speed, and all that. In the end, it cannot decide what either Luffy or Popeye are capable of. They’re both great heroes known for getting out of dire situations with their fists alone. The difference is their character. Luffy is not, has not, and never will be invincible. He has limits, obvious weaknesses, and his story is partly him overcoming the problems to make himself stronger. Meanwhile, Popeye’s is different. When a situation is dire, he uses something to make him capable of doing whatever needs to be done. In short, Popeye is as strong as he needs to be.
Steel: Going “Goku vs. Superman” again?
Ray: What? Look at it and tell me if it isn’t similar.
Steel: I-(pause) Wow…you’re right.
Ray: So, what happens when you pit a guy known for pushing his limits against a guy who has no real limit as to what he can or can’t do? Well, only Luffy has limits to begin with.
Steel: It was a good fight, but victory was just too much of a stretch even for Luffy. Now let's prepare to clean our inbox of all the nasty e-mails we're, undoubtedly, going to get from the One Piece fans...
Ray: The winner is Popeye.
LUFFY… +More than powerful enough to match Popeye in base form +Harder to hurt as a whole +Haki and Gears are formidable -More exploitable weaknesses -Even at best, cannot match spinach-fueled Popeye -Sometimes reliant on crew/friends in dire situations (I stress the term “sometimes”)
POPEYE… +A force to be reckoned with, even in base form +Just plain hard to kill +No truly-debilitating weaknesses to be taken advantage of +Spinach…need I say more? +Achieves the impossible on a day-to-day basis +More used to getting himself out of situations
Kind of listening to Your Hand in Mine by Explosions in the Sky while working on this one, hence the title.
EDIT: I can't thank everyone individually any more for faving this piece, as deviantArt just thinks I'm spamming, which is a shame, because I'd like to thank you all, because I love you. So thank you if you've faved this and I haven't thanked you personally, and thank you in advance should you fav this in the future. I really do love you all <3
If soft vore or m/m is not your thing, leave now. These characters are my own creation. Do not steal or copy.
It was night, and the three men were dressed in a variation of forest gear; Reese in forest camo like a happy camper, Louis and William in a darker, tighter version of climbing gear. Except for the keypad at the entrance, the cave looked like any other mining shaft, dark, cold, and endless. The code at the entrance had a leeway time of two minutes before it activated the alarm to Kole's headquarters. Reese got it cracked in 34 seconds.
"When I'm good, I'm good," he whispered triumphantly.
"Great, now move it," said Louis, merging seamlessly with the pitch shadows.
"Good luck," said Reese to the younger agent. "I'll save you a donut."
With a salute to the red haired safecracker, William followed his partner into the cave, flicking on his flashlight as he went. There was nothing but rock walls. He caught up to Louis at a fork in the tunnel, sunglasses off, perusing the map. The circles under the blonde's gray eyes were darker than ever.
"Cetz, how's the reception on your end?" asked Louis through the SkySprechts.
"Fine, we're getting you two loud and clear," said the Head of Watch Two. "We don't know what kind of fancy gadgets Kore has hidden there, so keep base communications to a minimum."
The both signed off.
"Which way do we go," asked Will as he shined his light on the map.
Louis glared and pushed Will's arm down. "Left. Whatever you do, don't point that flashlight in my face."
"My eyes hurt, okay!" Louis stalked away, leaving Will to follow.
Louis drew his breath slowly, looking at the air detector every five minutes. He tried to ignore how the stone walls were getting lower and narrower as he passed. He could feel the earth swell closer to him, eager to break the wooden beams holding it up, and bury him to never see the light of day.
*Keep moving*, he told himself. *Fanboy is right behind you, and you don't need to freak out in front of him.*
An hour later, he and Will came upon the first chamber stacked with boxes and crates. According to the labels they were guns, but the number of them was startling. Will, the one in charge of accounting for the things found, took out the camera and snapped a picture of the crates. To Louis's relief, the camera used a glowing, slow light instead of a heavy flash, and looking away was easy enough to do.
They passed three chambers, their path going higher into the mountain, and the number of crates was growing. Will geeked out at an item that looked like a lightsaber, until Louis pointed out it was a high-powered flashlight.
Louis froze as he uncovered a steel box. "Shit."
"What is it?"
Louis motioned to the box. "Look at what they got their hands on."
Will looked at the contents with a frown. It looked like a large motherboard, and at every inch a clear cylinder capped with metal laid across it, like florescent bulbs on a ceiling. "What is it?"
"The prototype that spawned the BTs," Louis spat.
"What's so dangerous about a BT? It's basic scanning and medical equipment."
Louis's lip curled as he shoved the prototype back into the box. "The BT was no miracle to medicine when it was first created. It was originally a pulse emitter that fried the skin off your bones, and that was just the first prototype. Like a tanning bed on steroids. Version two could emit a stronger pulse; fry the neurons in your brain. And now Kore's got version three."
Will was taken aback. "But, this is a prototype. Its obsolete technology compared to the later, more sophisticated versions the Watch has."
"The sniper rifle might be more sophisticated than the musket, but the musket still does a hell of a lot of damage." Louis discarded the box and continued on, checking his air gage. It was green, but it was sneaking closer to yellow. William looked thoughtful as he followed behind.
"You know a lot about BTs for someone who hates them," said Will.
Louis kept silent, wanting to find the virus and leave.
"Were you on a mission involving them?"
"My first mission," said Louis. "And I saw how they were originally meant to be used."
After another hour of trekking through the mine, Louis and Will had to put on their masks, the sensor glowing yellow. Finally, they came to the chamber holding the virus. Louis had a bad feeling. The seamless vial was suspended over a table in the center of the chamber, lit up by fiber optic wiring. He glanced at his partner and waved his hand towards the vial.
"Go ahead, Fanboy. Get it and let's go."
"I don't think it'll be that easy," said William, his voice wary. "This set up is like the opening scene of Raiders of the Lost Arc."
"And people wonder why I call you Fanboy. Stay here." Louis walked around the edge of the chamber.
Nothing else in the caves had alarms or traps; the same was probably true with the virus.
Louis approached and with a flick of his wrist snatched the vial. All was normal and he slipped it into the canister on his belt, and then side stepped towards the chamber entrance where William waited.
Then the ceiling fell upon them.
Rachel looked over her latest data from Louis's test and then rubbed her tired eyes. In a room underground with the bunkers, she sat with Retten's equipment that had been confiscated from the Freewill Compound. She and Cetz were the only ones with keycards to the room. Tables were littered with the twisted wires and panels from the room that had caused Louis's curious ability to shrink. But no matter what she did, she could not make heads or tails of them.
The smell of coffee drew her attention away from the equipment.
Cetz held up two mugs. "Figured you could use a pick me up."
"That and more," she said as she accepted a mug. She remembered Will's comment that she should switch to tea instead of coffee so she didn't get run down so easily. "If you're down here then all must be quiet upstairs."
"Haven't heard a peep from Louis or Will, so no news it good news. Kore's weapons depot might be massive, but he is an idiot when it comes to thorough security." Cetz took a seat next to the Med Tech. "How's it going with Louis's tests?"
"I'm finding out more things about his ability, but I still have no clue as to how Retten managed to do it to him. The files you gave me were helpful, but it's the missing file that's the key to all this."
Cetz nodded as he sipped his cup. "File 391. We should consider the information lost."
"Unless we can get Retten alive and talking," said Rachel hopefully.
"And that leads to my next question. How goes it with the transmitter?"
Cetz was referring to the tracker Rachel had cut out of Will's body in his last mission. The tracker had been broadcasting not only to the men chasing Will, but to Retten as well. Louis, who would have foamed at the mouth for a chance to get back at that man, had been kept out of the loop, as had everyone else. It had been the best lead to Retten's next hideout, an old townhouse, but it had been abandoned for hours, along with the receiver.
"Now that Grant has it deactivated he's been looking through the components, trying to find out the manufacturer, but he's been coming up empty. I've had Finance Tech dig through the rent on the townhouse. Cash for all payments, but they're going through the serial numbers and other connections." Rachel waved her hand to Retten's broken machine. "I haven't found any connections in this stuff between Retten and Watch One yet, but we still have Doctor Massaru looking through staff pictures and audio clips."
"You still reporting that he has a severe infection?"
"Yes, and Massaru is playing the part of the suffering patient well. He'll continue to have poor health until we can find out who's the leak."
"And let's hope Will and Louis will come back with some damning evidence from Kore's weapon's depot."
Rachel finished her cooling coffee in a single gulp. "Are you going to tell them about the leak when they get back?"
"I should. It certainly won't make their day any better. But they're walking around in an uncharted cave full of weapons for madmen and looking for a deadly virus. How much worse can their day get?"
William uncurled, rising from the floor mostly unhurt save a few deep bruises. He blinked the dust out of his eyes, waiting for the air to settle and searched for the flashlight he had dropped. A bright yellow light came from the air sensor. He had managed to keep his mask on during the cave in, but his breath was still labored. The last image in his mind was that of Louis looking up, the rare sight of terror on his face, and it twisted in Will's gut. Finding the flashlight, he pointed it at the pile of rubble that separated him from the virus chamber, and Louis.
He tore at the rocks with his gloved hands. "Louis! Louis, can you hear me?"
There was no response on the SkySprechts.
After a minute of digging he heard a shaky gasp through the communicator.
"Will!" whimpered Louis.
"Louis! Are you okay?"
Louis' voice was frail, so unlike the demanding voice Will was used to. "I take it back; this is a worse place to be."