Calamity Hound Overture, Cascade Ominence, Benign Overlord

by Doctor D

Rating: teen
Tags: Alternate Universe, Human, Comedy, Adventure
Length: 14089

A juvenile young man get's sent into a colorful world of ponies and magic. And he is now a big, black bird. He is not that amused.

What would you do if your life was a lie? A big, fucking lie that is so insane that it just might be the largest load of crap you have ever heard? Well, I bought the explanation… I'm not biased, shut up!

But when you send me to a place as girly as this… place, and turn me into a fucking bird(albeit a cool one), I will have some words to trade.
My name is Trace Abigail, and this is my story. Just hang with me here. This is gonna get insane.

(Part of the Chess Game of the Gods universe, created by BlackWing and, the universe's bastard father, Rust.)

Approved by following regulators: Tamara Bloodhoof, 7-4 and Troutking
Cover(that sucks) by yours truly ;)

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2013-05-18 20:39:44 UTC

Morgan Freeman is an asshole

You know what is funny?

No, clowns are not funny. I’ll break their stupid red noses. Creepy fucking clowns... Neither are you. Your friend. Or your friend’s cat. Your mom. You see where I am getting at?

And before you even fucking ask. Jokes. Are. Not. Funny. Especially when they come from a smartass like you. I don’t know you, but you must be a huge dork. No offense... No, you know what? All the offence! Because you are worth it.

…

Where the fuck was I?

“This is your last warning, Abigail. Come quietly and there will be no complications.”

Oh yeah! What IS funny! When you skip school so much and are such a badass that even the great drill won’t pierce your fucking heavens. Such a rebel that your principal sends some fucking hired mooks to haul your ass to the school seat. With force, if necessary.

So here I am, in a dark alley, cliche, I know, and these two guys are standing in my way, blocking my path to... I don’t really know where I was going but these guys just appeared like some dumpster ninjas. These two dykes were:

 A big black guy, a fat bastard who SOMEHOW has as much muscle as fat, whom I have taken to calling Bubba the Buttbreaker. Name appropriate, since he is gay. I have confirmed this!

And a real white meathead, Jim. Just... Jim... I got nothing on this guy. I could call him Steroid Arse, if it was even relatively original. He is the one doing most of the talking.

So here I am. Two icons of sheer testosterone driven manliness stopping my esca- PFFT! Sorry, can’t do it...

Oh, what? That is not funny? Get outta here! You obviously don’t see the novelty of this situation here. Speaking of which...

Initiate: Witty comeback.

“Your mother’s a complication.”, I sneer and smirk like an asshole. All. The. Way. I even put my hands in my pocket. Like. A. Boss.

Jim took exception to that.

“Look here, runt! We are getting tired of chasing your sorry ass around town, so why don’t you just come with before we are forced into A-aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa-------” The jerk did not break that single single falsetto note for a while when my foot broke his balls.

That’s right! I fight like a cheap bastard.

While Jim was shocked for his sudden lack of nads, I just turn nonchalantly and jump kick Bubba in the face. Too bad his head is so fat that it does nearly nothing but stagger him. That’s cool, cause I just sweep his legs.

“ Fly, fat boy, fly~!

Into the concrete~!

And break your back~.

Like a li----itle bi--------itch~ ”

And by the end of the little song, the richter scale called. It wants a health insurance.

Bubba in the ground, Jim getting back to reality. Solution? Kick Jim in the face. So I do. One good kick is all it takes to knock the sense out of that meathead. Jim falls to the floor, out like a little baby.

Naturally, I kick him a few more times. For kicks. Pun intended.

Knockout!

Bubba, on the other hand, is as helpless as a turtle. I firmly believe it is a turtle, not a fucking tortoise. And when I say like a turtle, I mean it quite literally. When that fat lardass is on his back, there is no way to get up. Maybe now he regrets eating so many walruses.

Naturally, I abuse this and kick him in the face a time or two.

Flawless Victory!

And what follows after the beatdown is this:

I snatch both of their wallets and pocket them

I leave a Joker-card in the place of their wallets[Any card will do, really]

I walk away, like a boss.

I don’t know what 4 is, but I do know one thing.

Sweet, motherfucking profit.

I quickly count the money they had on them, which is not much. Only 53 dollars and fifty cents, which I throw away. Cents are bullshit and you know it!

Yeah, I stole their wallets. Do I feel bad? Nope. Kind of a daily routine by now. Those two are gonna be on my case again in a few days. It is one fucking rat race, every other day, over and over again. I throw the emptied wallets away because, let’s be honest, I only want the money.

Those two look tough, but are nothing more than pushovers. Fucking glass jaws. No challenge at all. Stupid steroid pumping bone heads.

What interrupts my little oncoming rage session on how weak these assholes are is interrupted when my PDA signals to me that someone is trying to contact me. Since I don’t give my contact info to many people, I have a faint idea of who it might be.

I reach into my pocket and pull out my unbelievably sleek looking, shining black PDA. I saved loads of money to get this jewe- Just kidding! I stole it. Anyway, this beauty helps me keep in touch with some contacts of mine. My common chat name is RavenRenegade[RR]. Cool as hell name if you ask me. Let’s see who is calling me now...

… Oh, God damnit!

MatriarchPrinciple[MP] is contacting you

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

RR: fuuuuck

RR: what is it

RR: bitch

MP: What was that?

RR: YOU HEARD ME >:0

MP: I suggest you change your tone, Mr. Abigail.

RR: you aint the boss of me

MP: I am your principal, that is close enough.

MP: Now get back to school before I expel you.

RR: pfffft yeah right >:I

RR: i was wondering where that option has been dying for the past six months

MP: Abigail, I am serious. I have about had it with you and your juvenile attitude. I am trying to deal with this peacefully.

RR: hahahaha oh that is rich XD

RR: it has been real peaceful with all these thugs you send my way

MP: Abigail, do understand that I do not enjoy this. But you must be educated. You must grow up.

RR: So says a 30 year old virgin! >:]

MP: Trace Abigail! You are treading on very thin ice!

RR: oh now we are on first name basis :O

RR: sure thing Jane sure thing

RR: the ice is as thin as your metaphorical dyke is long

RR: bite me >:p

You have blocked MatriarchPrinciple[MP]

I shove the PDA back into my pocket. I don’t have the patience for this shit now. Especially for that bitch. I am just not in the mood...

I need something to eat.

Sitting down at a local diner is always fun. Less so when every asshole in the radius of me is staring at the way I look! Fucking dumbasses with their condescending stares. To their defense, my style is... pretty distinguished.

And badass. I only have multiple sets of one set of clothes. I am just cool like that. My outfit includes:

-A really thick hoodie that is colored with mixed splotches of black and white as well as having white fur around the collar and inside the hood.

-Really baggy black pants that are loose and flexible. These help with my main style of fighting. I kick the shit out of people. That’s right! There’s some Sanji up in this bitch! Also, the pockets are spacious.

-Customized military boots with with some metal plates on the tips. The bottom of the boots are also hard rubber. These make my kicks bring in some major pain!

I also don’t wear socks. Socks are for pussies. Only true badasses go without them.

My face may also have something to do with the stares. My skin is kinda dark. Like, really well tanned dark, not black guy dark. My eyes are kinda unnatural too. Because of some genetic mutation, or some shit, my eyes are bright red. That’s right! I’m a fucking Ishval. Suck it, FMA!

I even bleached my short dreads white to make the image complete... I watch too much anime, but do I regret it? No. No, I do not.

… Aaaand someone is messaging me again... Stop... STOP! You know what, I’ll flip for that. I take out a special coin from my pocket. It is custom design. One side has a blue carving with an angel symbol and the other has a red carving with a devil symbol. Blue means do good, red means do evil. Duh! The coin’s decision is absolute, so I only use it sometimes. I flip the coin...

Angel...

… Fine. I’ll answer this shit.

… What. The. Fuck.

Chat log:

GodofDice[GoD] is contacting you

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

RR: the fuck

RR: who are you

RR: and how the fuck did you get my number

GoD: I work in many ways.

RR: … huh what

RR: no you know what never mind

RR: lets cut the bullshit

RR: what do you want creepy asshole i do not know

GoD: I only wish to discuss something with you. So if you could come meet me, we can talk. I have a present for you. And some jelly babies.

RR: …

RR: ok I am 19

RR: go away pedobear

GoD: I am sorry if that came through in that sense. My mistake.

GoD: Apologies, Trace.

RR: … is this candid camera or something

RR: how the fuck do you know my name

GoD: I work in many ways. All I ask of you is to meet me outside.

GodofDice[GOD] disconnected

… “What. The. Ass?!”, I yell. Many pairs of eyes are drawn to my direction. I don’t give a fuck and just want my sandwich.

I leave the diner after my meal. Walking out the door I begin to wonder who that weirdo was. How did he get my number? And how in Satan’s beard did he know my name?! And should I go meet this suspicious individual?

I say fuck it. I just want to go to my place and sleep a bit. Really tiring day.

I stop as I spot something interesting on the ground. I, of course, bend over to pick it up.

‘Hey, someone has dropped a 100 dollar bi-’

*CRASH*

I open my eyes and see white. Craptons of it. It hurts my eyes, as they are naturally light sensitive so normal sunlight is tolerable, but this is just torture. I have to squint majorly to even see without a slight pain in my retinas.

Naturally, I ask the BIG question.

“What. The. Hell?” I notice I am lying on my back and get up. Looking around, it seems I am in some... place. A room, I guess, of endless whiteness. Why my eyes are not bleeding like mad is beyond me. “Where the fuck am I?”

“That is simple.”

“JEGUS!”, I yelp and jump a little... Yeah, I was spooked. But the voice came from right behind me, so screw you... Wait a minute. That voice... Why is is familiar? I turn around and-

“Oh my God!”, I manage to muffle a loud yell into a loud whisper. What I see is only one of the most known faces, or at least voices, to ever be heard by mankind. The herald of narration himself! “It’s Morgan, fucking, Freeman!!”

… Wait, what?

“Good to see you made it. I was thinking you would not come.”, Morgan Freeman said with that iconic, orgasm inducing voice. Of course I am unaffected by it. What do you think I am, gay?

“...” I just stare at him blankly. It really is Morgan Freeman in a white tux. “... What.” Really? That was the smartest thing I could say?

“It appears you are a bit confused, so let me tell it to you straight and get to the point.”, He said with a small smile on his lips. “You, Trace Abigail, are dead.”

I stare at him vacantly for a few seconds, until, “Bull. Shit.”

He just keeps looking at me with a warm expression. “I assure you, no manure of any kind is at work here.”

“Okay. Fine.” I put my hands up in the air in surrender. I really can’t think of anything to say to that. “Let’s say I am dead. What of it?”

“Well, that verily depends on you.”, Morgan Freeman said. “You see, there is a game going on. A big Chess Game, if you want to think of it that way. Many forces of great power wish to participate in these games, so they kidnap or trick humans into being their pieces on the board.”

“Okay, so you, Morgan, fucking, Freeman, want me to what? Be forced into this game?”, I ask and give him my best suspicious eyes.

“No. None of the sort. You see, Trace, you died. I am not forcing you into anything. I am simply giving you the option to start fresh. A new life.”

“In the game?”

“In the game.”, He confirmed.

“... You are the worst manipulator. Ever.”, I deadpan.

“No one is perfect. Not even God.”, Morgan Freeman, who is, apparently, literally God... Huh.

“... Details. Tell me why I should give a rat’s diseased, worm infested ass?” I tried to sound angry, but that voice... Oh man, that voice...

“Well, what if I told you your whole life, as well as the world you live in is nothing but a lie? What if you and your world are only figments of imagination of a powerful being of God-like might, slumbering in an endless dream?” He said that all with a straight face, by the way.

“I’d say you are full of shit.”, I reply, shoving my hands in my pockets. Even with that heavenly calming voice, my irritation is beginning to show...

And then he hushes me... Welp, there went that seed of rage.

“I assure you, I do not lie. You, and your world are all a facade, made of a dream of an ethereal being. I extend to you a pass to an independent existence. I give you the gift to become reality.”

“In the game?”

“In the game.”

…Wow. Morgan Freeman is transparent as fuck.

“Okay, let’s say I agree to this. What then? What is this “game” about?” Damnit, if I am going to do something dumb I might as well know WHAT the hell I am doing. I cross my arms in expectancy and wait.

“That is simple. The game has no clear goal but for you, the piece on the board, to do your part. What that part is is up to you.”

“The catch is..?”, I ask. There is always a catch.

“Nothing important.”, Morgan Freeman says calmly.

“... Really?”, I squint my eyes in suspicion.

“Yes.”

“Okay.”, I shrug... What? It’s Morgan Freeman! I can’t not doubt those sweet, flowing words of glorious and gracious truth!

I’m not gay! Stop sneering!

“Then it is decided.” Suddenly, a paper appeared in my hands. “Just sign this contract and it is done.” Then a... quill, I think, appeared next to the paper.

Decision, decisions...

“One more thing!”, I say sharply, quoting a really old, and relatively badass man. “How did I die? Please tell me it was badass.”

Morgan Freeman waved his hand to the right, and a vision appeared in the air. It was me, bending over to pick up someone’s lost money. Then...

*CRASH*

…

“...”

…

“...”

…

“I got run over by a fucking ice cream truck! Fuck this! There is no fucking way I’m gonna pass on with a death so anti-badass! Give me that!”, I lash out and grab the contract and the quill, writing my signature on it. But not my real name. Fuck. That.

Signed, Raven Renegade

I saw Morgan Freeman pop a smile. Odd. It seemed a little like a shit eating grin. “So you have accepted.”, He chuckled... darkly? “Excellent~.”

Then I remember a sensation of falling. I blacked out, but before I did, I swear I could hear laughter.

I stir. I slowly open my eyes and am greeted by a blurry image. I can tell it is green, but my eyes... GOD, THE BURNING! My eyes feel like someone spilled some bleach in my eyes, and NO ONE is that stupid! Why does it have to be so fucking bright? FUUUUUUUUCK!

‘Okay... Calm breaths. Just like Nanna told me. Breathe.... HOW IS THIS HELPING MY EYES! GOD, THE BURNING WON’T STOP!’

*le 20 minutes later*

‘Okay.... I’m okay... Just... calm down.’ I breath heavily, panting. My throat is a bit sore from screaming my ass off. It’s pain, so screaming is allowed. I AM NOT A PANSY, SHUT UP!

My eyes are adjusting to the sunlight. The pain is gone. I am okay... Relatively. My retinas are still sore... MY god! That was the most painful case of eye burn I have ever had... Never again... Just... No.

I am still lying on some grass. I am outside it seems. Lying on some grass. How in the fuck I got here, I have no fucking clue. And I am getting a headache...

I raise my head and look around a little. Mounds of grass, mountain in a distance, a river nearby. Clouds in the sky, duh... Nope. Dorothy, I am sad to say this, but we are not in fucking Kansas anymore.

Where am I anyway? ...

“Damnit, Morgan Freeman! Why won’t you tell me shit!”

A rustling in the some bushes nearby catch my attention, and I instinctively jump up... Standing feels weird for some reason, but never mind.

“It come from here?”, I hear a voice speak in hilariously bad english.

“Shh! You makes too much noise.”, said another voice that sounded a bit like Gollum. Gollum-ish. Whatever.

Then, out of the bushes jump out two figures... And you are not gonna believe this. These creatures look like anthropomorphic dog, or are at least pretty darn close. Walk on two legs, have large hands and expressive faces. One looks like a bulldog, small and ugly as fuck. The other looked a bit like a...  Pffffft! A sausage dog, aka Mr. Weeney. I had to stop myself from bursting out laughing.

The two looked at me and took an offensive posture. “What is that?”, Mr. Weeney asks.

“Me not know, but me sure boss will like it.”, The bulldog said and took a step at me. “Chicken come here.”

‘… What did the flea bag just call me?’ I glare angrily and take a step of my own. My step falters, for reasons I cannot even begin to understand, I trip, and hit my head on some rock, or some bullshit like that.

My last minute thought before losing consciousness?

‘Worst. Fucking. Knockout. Ever.’

EPIC FAIL!

==>Enter Name: Stabby MacDipshit

OH, FUCK OFF, DISEMBODIED VOICE! You have heard some annoying wisecracks, but this comes pretty close to taking the cake. THAT is not YOUR name! Whoever thought that up must be positively moronic to the upteenth degree.

Guess again, cannon fodder.

==>Enter name: Spades Slick

Spades Slick? You do admit that the name has a nice ring to it. Sounds like a guy with a sense of “don’t fuck with me”-style. You like that. But alas, that is not your name either, but as this name was somewhat tolerable, you’ll let it slide.

Guess again. AND get it right this time, or there will be blood!

==>Enter name: John Darke.

Your name is John Darke. Short for Johnson, but anyone caught calling you that get’s a midnight snooze with the fishes. You are a hard boiled thug, born and nursed by the streets. You are a leader of the notorious Twilight Crew, a small time gang meant for big things. Well, you used to be the leader, anyway. Stuff happened. Bad stuff. You’d rather not talk about it.

All that there is to know about you is no ones business, and even if it was, those who care to actually know would be dead by sunrise. A man needs his privacy, after all. You do, however admit to liking Film-noir movies and books of the hardboiled genre. Man, those things are amazing.

You attempt to shut out the continuous monolog by gazing into the endless desert, looking for something to direct your attention to. As it would be expected in the middle of a desert, neither of your goals bear fruit. This only goes to add to your constantly rising irritation.

As you are about to imprint your own palm on your face, you notice something peculiar and immensely curious. Your hand is not as you remember it being. And you most certainly do not remember having a hand covered in what looked like a shiny, black shell. On further inspection you notice visible joints on your fingers, just like some sort of a puppet.

A normal person would flip their shits from this, but as it stands, you are better than any normal person. The streets are a good teacher, a strict father and an abusive mother, ready to teach you how to handle yourself. And kill any asshole who messes with you. That too. This change, while very unexpected and strange, is nothing to fuss over. You just don’t work that way.

You flex your fingers a little. The joints seem to work like they normally would, albeit a bit more clumsily. You look at the rest of your body to see the extent of this odd predicament. It fits  your current expectations. Your whole body is like this. Shiny black with visible ball joints. Your feet look like pointy shoes. It also seems like you are butt naked, but this does not seem like an issue, as your body does not seem anatomically correct.

You are not sure whenever this is a huge relief, as you do not need to worry about going about naked... Well, in a sense. It could very well be a huge annoyance, as your manhood has been stolen from you.

You decide on taking the middle road on this one, accepting it, but still loathing it a little. The loathing gains a slight upper hand, as you really wish you had your old duds on. If you are supposed to be stranded in the middle of the God damned desert, why not look sharp?

A brief moment passes where you feel your face. No nose. A mouth with sharp teeth, apparently. You are also relieved that you feel your stitched up horizontal scar going across your face, over the spot your nose would be. That scar is like a good childhood memory, though you lack such things.

You also decide to not give a fuck about this sudden change, at all, and just think back to what might have caused this to occur. Unfortunately for you, your memories are a bit hazy. This irritates you.

You begin walking into a random direction, trying to shut out the continuous narrative. You experience a great quantity of fail.

The sun bears down upon the dunes. The air is hot, and so is the sand, but much to your surprise you don’t seem to be bothered by either. You feel the heat, but your body does not seem to react to it. As odd as this  sensation strikes you, it does not surprise you enough for you to actually care.

The sand shifts from under you with every step taken. A minute passes. Then ten. Then twenty. You lose count fairly early. It might have been an hour, for all you know. Sure as hell feels like it.

You visibly scowl at your predicament. The desert seems endless. Getting out of here is going to take time. That is, if you don’t starve first. Welp, sucks to be you.

AAAAAUGH!

 This voice in your head is really beginning to grind your gears. You would give anything for a way to vent for a w-!

You come to a sudden hault and turn around. You see nothing but sand, but you swear you heard something. Might have been your imagination, but one can never be too sure. Your trek onwards continues, but you stay vigila-

There it is again! That odd shuffling sound. You wonder what it could be. God, don’t let it be insanity showing it’s fangs. You like your sanity intact, and in your own possession.

==>John: Freak out

What? NO! Why in the name of Al Capone would you do that? It makes no sense to freak out over some noise. There is nothing violence can’t solve. Not even noise, as something always causes it. This something, more than usually, can be beaten to silence.

Right on que, you hear another sound behind you. This time closer. Much closer. You do the only thing that comes naturally at the moment.

AUTO-PUNCH!!!

You spin around, your fist travelling in a wide arch. You fist barely misses a figure that somehow snuck up on you. The figure jumps backwards, allowing you some movement space. It also gives you visage of the soon to be corpse that dared try sneak up on you.

It appears vaguely humanoid in shape, standing on two oddly shaped legs, it’s height just a bit over your own. Most of it’s features remain  wrapped under a large black cloak. What you do see however are two large hands like appendages. Appendages with sandy fur on them. This is just fan-fucking-tastic.

You are dealing with a werewolf-thing over here!

Of course you know such creatures are just old wives tales, but never mind. This creature is preparing for battle, based on the stance in has taken. You are more than happy to comply. Your street thug instincts kick in as you clench your hands into a fists and raise them.

We are making this shit happen!

==>John: STRIFE

Deciding you won’t have any bullshit, you get the first swing. Your fist misses by mere inches when the thing leans out of the way. It continues by jumping back a bit, reaching for within the cloak and drawing out a curved scimitar. It shoots you a cold glare from under that cloak. You return the favor with a death glare of your own.

Or you would, if one wasn’t your facial constant.

So the doggy/wolf-thing has a nice piece of metal. Do you don’t give a shit? I think not. You raise two of your puppet-like fingers and beckon the mutt to come forth. If it dares. It seems to know what you are gesturing for.

The canine attempts to charge at you and slash your throat, but you coolly just back away before countering with a quick and well placed punch in the face. When your attack connects, it puts the creature is a daze, allowing you to get a free shot at this things gut.

It does not last long. The creature strikes your stomach area with the pommel of the scimitar, making you back away yourself. The hit itself did not hurt that much. This, however, gives you an opening. You swiftly grab the creature’s blade arm and hold onto it firmly. Whilst doing so, you manage to score a nice uppercut on the mutt’s jaw, as well as twisting it’s hand, getting out a grunt of pain from your opponent, as well as forcing it to drop it’s weapon. You finish with a strong kick into the mutt’s gut, sending it to the ground in very visually apparent pain.

But what about that scimitar? Would that be handy for you?

==>John: Pick up the damn sword!

Sheesh, shut it! You were about to do it anyway. You grouch down for a bit to pick up the curved blade weapon. You stand to face the wolf/dog-thing, still on the ground, but slowly getting up. The blade in your hand is just begging to have some blood. You raise it above your head and are ready to...

...

S U C K E R !

You are unable to use this weapon in combat, as you lack the proper Strife Specibus to do so. You have no idea what that even is, but your attempts to use the sword are fruitless. You just can’t swing it to attack, no matter how hard you try.

You get fed up with this fast and just drop the damn sword. You don’t need it anyway. Seems like this will have to be dealt with good ol’ fisticuffs. Speaking of which, you did notice that your fingers were a bit pointy... You wonder...

Your borderline malevolent grin shifts into a borderline sadistic one. The difference is slight, but it is noticeable. You look at the creature in black robes. It appears to have recovered from your previous onslaught and is now back upright, glaring at you with anger and contempt. Not that you mind. I mean, you are a scumbag, all the offence, so why give a shit, right?

You find nothing to object to about that analogy. It is spot on.

You prepare for Round 2, by taking an aggressive stance and waiting for the doggy to make a first move, smiling like the smug sadistic fuck you are. The robed creature extends its hand into the robes once more. You let out an amused chuckle. It seems that there are more surprises to come. You look on as it pulls out an... an... Oh.... Oh my...

Your eyes widen out of sheer surprise. Then anger. Sweet, overflowing, unrefined and pure rage.

The mutt is holding a small blade with a handcrafted handle, made from mahogany. Crafted into the shape of a crucifix. Painted black as the abyss. A handle you recognize very well. Very well indeed, as you should.

You spent YEARS making THAT handle perfect. You spent even LONGER sharpening THAT BLADE until it was sharper than a razor. ANY razor. All the BLOOD that it would spill in the future. An artifact that spread FEAR in your enemies. A proof of your MIGHT. A perfect WEAPON to suit YOUR needs. And this mutt DARES hold it!

NO ONE HOLDS THE DARKE CROSS!!

You lose almost all of your self control as you...

... As you...

... Uhhhhh...

... Errr...

M... maybe w-we could be someone else for a bit.

==>JOHN: BE SOMEONE ELSE. NOW!

You are now someone else, in a universe distant from this one, on a green... planet...

...

Sorry, this is kind of awkward, but it seems you are unable of being this particular person at this moment. In fact, you are not supposed to be this particular person for quite some time.

==>Be Mr.Darke again.

If you insist.

You are John again. It has been a few minutes since we left you alone, but I am back now.

...

Much to your great displeasure.

Okay, sorry to tell you this, but I am not going anywhere, so you better get used to me spelling out your every movement and thought.

You casually tell the narrator to go fuck his- HEY! My mother is a very nice and respectable person and not worth your mockery!

...

Anyway, you  now stand upon the creature that assaulted you and dared to desecrate your sacred artifact... Or rather, what is left of the creature.

==>Be the creature.

You try to be the creature, much more commonly known as a diamond dog, but you fail with flying colors. Mainly due to a quite permanent case of death.

The fact that the body is spread around more widely than a person run over by a clown car might also have a say in the matter, lowering your Fail-O-Meter to the Justin Bieber-ladder.

You cheeky bastard.

==>Stop fooling around and be John already!

You are an temperamental psychopath. You are looking at the leftovers of your fresh kill. Wow, it looks like you really did a number on the poor guy.

... Well, not really a guy. You discovered that this thing was female when you planned on ripping of it’s balls and showing them down it’s throat. It was unfortunate that you did not get to do that, but hey! This happens.

Well, you did rip off pretty much anything else you could. There was a spleen, a stomach, some guts. You know. The usual. It really is a mess. Blood is pretty much everywhere. You are not an exception. The carapace like shell on your hands is stained red by your handiwork.

Blood was never an issue with you. The only thing you had with it was that it tended to be messy and hard to get off of your clothes.

==>John: Wipe that blood off

That sounds like a plan, even if it is from a voice in your head. Annoying, but it has a point.

You wipe your bloody hands on the dog things cloak until all of it is gone. As a sacrifice the cloak is now dirtier than ever. The blood, along with some of the damage it seemed to have suffered make the cloak look more fearsome from your point of view. And you are totally okay with that.

Now then, how to proceed from here?

==>Loot the corpse

You suddenly feel compelled to loot the spoils of your victory, though you doubt this thing is carrying much... Oh man, you are letting the Command get into your subconscious. So precious-HEY! Put that finger down this instant!

Anyway, you decide to loot the body for anything of value. But before that...

It is time. Time to hold what is yours. You pick up The Darke Cross. It is back in your hands. Your weapon. Your symbol of power. The shank of all shanks. It’s blade is shiny and flawless, as it has always been. Perfect!

And, as it happens, you gained a free starter Strife Specibus from defeating your foe.

You gained the Knifekind Strife Specibus. Now you can wield all kinds of knives as your weapons in combat... Or shanks. That is fine, I guess? But whatever, this bitch must have some other stuff on her. Just... mind the blood.

You search the body for any kind of valuables. Your expectations are low, but you do find some things.

First thing that you find looks like a marble pebble. A pure white pellet. It is... oddly alluring. As if it’s calling you... NAH, that’s unlikely. I mean, what are the chances? You agree. Still, some part of you strongly insist that you hold onto that thing.

==>Captchalogue the pebble.

Captcha-what? What the hell is tha- Hey, where did the marble thing go? Well, let me tell you. The white pebble is now in your Captchalogue Modus, more specifically the Fraction Modus where you must solve fractions to get the item you... want... Aaaand it looks like you SOMEHOW changed it into an Inventory-With-No-Additional-Bullshit Modus.

You cheeky cheating fuck, you. And put that finger down!

... Moving on, the other thing you discover is a small pouch. It is quite heavy, not to mention you know the jingle of coins when you hear it makes you deduce that there is money in this pouch. This will be useful in the future. The pouch disappears and appears in your Inventory too.

You are getting a hammerspace feel from this thing, but decide to not care for now. All in due time, as you say... Sometimes... In funerals.

Ahem! The third thing you find is a coin. A large coin with engravings on both sides. Angel and Demon, huh? Well, this thing sure is neat. You put that in your inventory as well. Just because it looks cool. While you are at it, you also grab some provisions the dog was carrying around.

... That is about it. Nothing else on this bitch that is worth your time. Back to business. You put your trusty shank into your inventory for safekeeping.

Also there is the sword this thing tried to gut you with... Well, it does look quality... Ah, what the heck. You take it as well. Who knows, this might end up helping you one day. Or you can always sell it. That works too.

Now to get moving and find a way out of this desert.

==>John: Wear the cloak

What? That dirty and shredded thing? Why  would you do that? It makes no sense.

You find yourself putting it on anyway. Fuck! It still has blood on it... Although, that just adds a certain... something to it...

... Getting out of here is going to take a while, isn’t it?

You can’t be amused. Not even by a clown car.

You move forward, only a bloody rag as your companion.

I speak animal...

...

...

...

Man... Let me tell you, a wall has never been soooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

oooooo interesting.

No, seriously. It’s, like, all gritty and shit. And grey. That is, like, the most interesting color of them all.

Don’t believe me? Trolls. That is all.

...

Yeah, if you did not notice my sarcasm is pretty thick at the moment.

So I have stared at a rock surface for... a few days? I really can’t tell. The sense of time... It really get’s messed up underground, you know? Fucking fabulous, I know. I have slept two times, so I just assume it has been two days.

That, or my sleep schedule is getting so teabagged right now.

I blame the corn.

Oh. My God. The corn.

These past few days have been basically nothing BUT corn. If it was anything else, say, a goddamn bowl of natto, which is just plain disgusting, I would have eaten it, even if it meant puking out of all of my orifices.

... How the fuck I have not killed myself is beyond me.

The female dog has kept sneaking over here daily. She brings me FUCKING CORN and some water and sometimes stays to talk to me, or something. I don’t listen to be honest. Anyway, she seems like a nice enough sort. In the most irritating, naive way possible.

Also, this situation has given me a justified chance to call her a bitch every now and then. And even that gains minus points because, as it is very strongly hinted, I can’t speak to save my life. I have gotten quite conscious about it, trying to talk to myself- I’M NOT CRAZY -to ease the boredom. Kweh this, kweh that. Kweh kweh KWEH.

I don’t know which is worse. The fact that I can’t speak in a way understandable to anything, or that I sound like a broken record.

I still get what I mean to say, but otherwise this is just plain dumb.

...

...

...

‘Boy, this stone wall is reeeeeeeeeally interesting...’

The boredom is so strong that I can’t even be bothered to raise my head from the damn floor. And let me tell you, this floor is dirty as shit. Literally... Okay, I exaggerate, but you get my point.

... I swear, if nothing happens in the span of the next ten minutes, I will kill myself.

[20 minutes later...]

...

...

I am a liar.

A big, fat liar.

That or a really lazy bum.

Or a big, fat,, lying lazy bum with horrible middle age acne and syphilis.

...

“Kill me. Just do it. I don’t mind. Just make it look cool. Find Masamune and do an Aerith on me. That would be so epic.”

“Wait! Even better, find me a magic fruit and throw me into the sea. Or have a hollow eat my soul. Or-or death by ninjas.”

“Or maybe-”

“OH, SHUT UP!”

I stopped for a moment, looking around for a bit. ‘Who the fuck was that?’  Then my eyes land on... a... rat.

And boy, is that one bigass rat. Must be the size of a small cat.

It looked at me... With an expression of shock... How it does that, I have no fucking clue

I jump up fast like a leopard. The rat tries to run for it but only manages to get a mere foot away till I dropped my left bird foot on it. Well, dropped gently. The rat tries to wiggle it’s furry ass out. Do you even have to guess how successful that is?

Look, I swear, that rat just talked and I’m not crazy. I pinned a goddamn rat to the ground. I want some confirmation for my goddamn sanity!

“And where the hell do you think you are going, whiskers?”, I say, trying to sound threatening. Well, trying to me is the same as basically meaning every fucking word. There is no try in truth. A threat is a threat. Even the fake ones.

It just squeaks annoyingly and frets around like a headless chicken. I lower my head to it’s level till it’s image reflects off of my eyeballs. “I asked, what the hell are you do you think you are going, whiskers?”

“...”, The rat opens it’s little mousy snout, as if trying to talk, but nothing comes out... Guess I am insane then. “H-h-how did you know my n-name?”

I blink once. Twice.... Come on... Rule of  Three... ... ... Thrice. “Wow, really?”, I asked, honestly surprised.

“Y-yes?”, It squeaks back... Okay, she. I hate to start giving animals genders because who gives a fuck, but that girly pitch just confirms it.

“Seriously? No bullshit, right?”, I say, narrowing my eyes to look intimidating.

“W-what?”, The rat squeaks in confusion and fear. I swear, I need a mirror. I want to see how scary I really look, or if this place just has standards that low... Blame me for being a jackass, but scaring others is just plain fun.

... And I just remembered I’m talking to a fucking R.O.U.S! “Wow, shit! I can actually understand that gibberish? What? I can understand and, apparently, speak rat but not fucking english? How the fuck does that work?!”

Shouting is my way of venting. It just feels soooooo good to just let it all out there. It does not even have to be a real word or a sentence. Any kind of yell is a good yell. Bonus points for swears.

The rat, Wiskers just kinda... stares at me, scared at my loud yelling... Kinda the point there. “P-please let me go!”, The rat begged.

I look down on it and, if I even could, smirked like a smug snake. “Well, that is a wee bit of a problem. You see, I don’t feel like it.” I swear, I sound like a more calm and somehow more creepy version of the Joker. The rat whines and I see tears on the poor things eyes...

Okay, for all the shit I spout, I am not that heartless. “Alright. Listen up, ‘cause I got a proposition.”, I say, easing up on the bad guy act a little. The rat stops sniffling and looks at me. “I will let your furry hide go IF you answer some questions I have.”

She looks up at me, teary eyed, scared. “Really?”

“Really.”, I confirm.

The rat thinks a little, which is to say three seconds. “Okay. I-I’ll try.”

I smile, victorious. Can you smile with a beak? I don’t know, but I feel like I am at least trying to.

“So, w-what do you want to k-know?”

...

‘Fuck! Why did I not think that far ahead?’ I think fast, trying to come up with something, fast... Well, there is one thing. “What is that there?” I wave my head to the direction of the large cell. The one with the dark shape I can’t quite make out. It’s been bothering the fuck out of me for a while now.

The rat glanced over there and seemed to  think for a second. “I-It is a... big thing.” Gee, really? “It... I don’t know what it is but it has been there for a long time... Very long. The diamond dogs... they stopped giving it food and water six weeks ago.”

Diamond dogs? Is that what these mutts are called? Laaaaame.

...

Wait, that thing is something alive? Well, six weeks with no nutrition tends to kill you, so it must be a corpse by now. But, holy shit, that thing must’ve been enormous!

“I see...”, I say neutrally. I don’t want to reveal my surprise. “Question number two, where is this place located? And I do mean this little comfy cage.“, I say, adding some sarcasm to the end.

Again, the rat thinks before answering. “Well, this place is underground, not too deep from the surface... I think.”

“You think?”, I narrow my eyes at this.

“W-well, I’ve only once gone outside.”

‘Fair enough. So, this place is not that deep... meaning getting out of here is the matter of finding an exit... And getting out of this cage, but whatever.’ I decide to make some plans at a later date. Let’s see, do I have any more things I want to ask about...

Only one thing comes to mind. “Okay, this will be the last one. Do you know of a way out of this place?”

“No.”

‘THAT CAME AWFULLY FAST!’ “You sure about that?”, I asked, lowering to the rat’s level once more. It nodded furiously. I may not be be good at reading others, but there were no signs of lies on the rat’s face. It was telling the truth.

“I answered. D-does this mean I can g-go now?”, It asked me hopefully.

“Yeah, I believe it means that.”, I remark.

‘Okay, info gained: The thing in the corner was something living. Now dead. This place is underground and not that far from surface. Also, no useful escape routes. Fuck! ... Oh well, could have been worse.’

The door creaked a bit. “Hi, it’s me again!”, Came an audible whisper.  I jerked my head up quickly and looked at the familiar sight of that damn bitch that keeps bringing me FUCKING CORN! And, much to my horror, she was carrying a basket.

Fuck. My. Luck! I just jinxed myself just now, didn’t I? AAUGH!

She merrily hops over to my cage, but stops mid-way. “Oh.”, She says. “It seems you already got something to eat.” I know she has a name. She mentioned her name a few times, I think, but I did not listen. Or I chose to forget.

‘I WILL NOT EAT YOUR CO-Wait, what?’ I swallow on reflex. I can feel something sliding down my throat, into my stomach... Something pretty big... And still kinda moving a little.

My body freezes.

“Well, I’ll just leave this here for you.”, The diamond dog, I guess I might as well get used to calling them that, says and leaves the basket inside of my cage before going for the door. “Bye!”

With that, she is gone.

Back to me. I just stood in my cage, motionless. It was that way for about five minutes until I looked at the spot under my leg, where the rat had been. I could see a small spot of red liquid. The movement in my stomach had stopped a while ago.

...

I think I just ate a rat. A rat! One of the filthiest creatures in the world! And the weird part is that it’s actually pretty damn good! THIS FREAKS ME OUT! I don't even remember the damn things name anymore! And I ate it!

...

‘Wait, chocobos are herbivores, right? ... THEN THIS MAKES EVEN LESS SENSE!’

I totally did not faint after that.

You escape? You screwed.

I am disgusted. Utterly, undeniably disgusted.

At myself.

That does not happen. Ever! I am too cool for that.

But...

I ATE A RAT! A RAT I HAD A CIVIL CONVERSATION WITH JUST SECONDS PRIOR! AND I LIKED IT! WHY?

A chocobo is supposed to be a herbivore! Why isn’t my body rejecting it and making me puke it out? Why was I enjoying the taste of meat with these taste buds? IT MAKES NO SENSE!

So there I lay, on the floor of my cage, eyes wide open, not looking at anything... I hate to admit it, but I feel like a piece of shit. I don’t know if it is because I killed and ate an innocent animal that I promised to let go, or that I don’t even have the decency to remember it- her name...

... It feels weird accidentally being the bad guy... I have no problems with it but... most of the time I meant it... This time, I didn’t. I was going to let her go...

I guess... Instincts just took over.

...

THAT is complete bulshit! A herbivore has no such instincts, so why did I do it?!

I feel my own anger at myself and my ignorance grow and swell inside of me. Nothing like this has ever happened before. I’m confused, angry and I really want to pummel something. I’m Hulking out over here!

... But I guess I can’t do... well, anything, really.

...

...

‘Being emo sucks!’

I get up, frustrated. I walk up to the door to my lovely cage. I take position, prepare, take aim and kick it. The metal bar door let’s out a loud noise and rattles a little, but nothing else. I was kind of hoping it would just break of it’s hinges, but it seemed too durable for that. But everything has a breaking point. If I kick it long enough, it will break. No question.

I am tired of this! I am fucking fed up with this fucking cage! This fucking place! I am getting the FUCK out!

So I repeat the process. Kick after kick lands on the metal bars. The noise it makes is incredible. Loud as hell, I mean.

After a while I start kicking in faster succession. Limiting as this new body is, it sure as hell packs a good punch. Or a kick, in this case. The muscles in my legs are strong and with each kick I can feel them tensing up to take the impact.

A foot would start getting sore after a while of kicking shit. My bird foot didn’t. I must have tougher hide to absorb the impact while still keeping it strong. I am happy with this info.

I did not even notice it at first, but the time inbetween my kicks started getting smaller. It’s like my muscles have figured out the pattern and now are aiming to work at optimal capacity. So I kept kicking the blasted door, faster and faster. The noise it made had to be heard to be believed. I ignored it though.

After a while I had to stop. I was panting heavily, somewhat drained. I looked at the door. Still there, standing, but one thing caught my eye immediately. Eyes that widened and almost popped out of their sockets. The bars had bent outwards quite a bit. The dent was... impressive.

‘Wow, shit! Did I really just do that? HOLY FUCK!’

Then I noticed something else. The bottom of my foot was hot! It must have caused some friction from the kicks. I was astounded. Suddenly I began to see some potential in this body. Some damn badass potential.

Some noises can be heard from just outside the room my cage is in. I figured someone must have heard that. The door is flung open and a familiar looking -*snicker*- diamond dog walked in.

“What go on here?!”, It asked, kinda agrish.

“Nice to see you too, Mr. Weeney. Go eat a sausage!”, I...God, why can’t I just say that like a normal person? WHY?!

Mr. Ween- fuck it. He has a name, might as well use it. Heros looked at me with a malicious look. “You stop racket!”, He growled at me walking closer to my cage. Closer than is deemed safe with me.

I do my best to blow a raspberry at the prick of a dog, but I am not entirely sure if I could pull it off with a bird tongue and a beak.

“Why you-!”, He yells. Apparently I can do it just fine. Fuck yeah! Heros makes his way closer to my cage, his muzzle sticking inside between the bars in a growl. I, of course, see a perfect opportunity to fuck this guy up. With a swift movement, I kick his muzzle, sending him stumbling to the other end of the room, hitting the bars of the larger cage.

Not only did the kick make a satisfyingly loud clank-sound on the bars, but it also apparently caused some damage on Heros’ muzzle, which he was holding and trying to muffle cries of pain. I think I saw some blood leak out between his fingers too.

“That’s right! Don’t fuck with the chocobo, biatch!”, I say... Damnit! This has no desired effect if no one can understand me!

I stop on my tracks. Something was moving in the room, or so it sounded like. Some shuffling noises. It was not me and Heros was still holding his nose.

Then I saw it. The shape in the largest cell had moved. Oddly enough it seemed... taller.

Without any sort of warning, the bars of the largest cage came flying off as a large fist broke through them, hitting Heros and flinging him straight through my bars with unbelievable force. Heros did not stop there but hit the back of my cell, hard. I watched as his skull hit the wall first and shattered, spilling blood everywhere.

The sight made me want to vomit, but I managed to hold it in. Safe to say, I had never really seen an injury of that caliber. It was... horrible. I slowly looked back through the new holes in both of the cells. What I saw made me freeze perfectly still.

From inside the newly made hole, a creature crawled into the light where I could see it. It was a black furred diamond dog, or so I thought. It’s arms and legs and body in general looked very muscular, albeit it still looked very thin and sickly. It’s tail was unlike any of the dogs I had seen this far. It was far longer and was built like a club with spike like points on the round tip.

But the most eye striking part was it’s sheer size. Compared to me, who was larger that most of the dogs myself, it was... a giant. It was basically crawling in the room, pressing itself to it’s minimal size to fit, but it still came off as far larger than anything I had ever seen.

Then I got a look on it’s face. It’s ears were straight like arrow heads and it had a long muzzle. The part that got me were the eyes. Or rather where I should see the eyes. The eyelids were closed, two vertical scars running over both of them. It’s ears jerked around and it sniffed the air lightly.

This thing- this monster was blind.

My breathing stopped for a second as it laid it’s closed eyes on me. After a second or two it looked away, but for me it felt like an eternity.

Finally it crawled to the door with sluggish movements and punched a massive hole into the wall with no apparent trouble. After widening the hole for a bit, it crawled outside and for a minute after, I just stood still, listening the sound of the giant shuffling about until I could hear it no more.

And I started choking. I had forgotten to breathe for a while there. I took a few raspy breaths, my legs and entire body shaking. I don’t know what it was, but that thing just...

I blink. Am I actually scared of this thing?

I shake the thought out of my head and headbut some of the bars for good measure. This is the perfect opportunity. I walk through the hole in my cell and look at where the door once stood. The hole was big enough to let the giant crawl out, but to me it was just a huge hole.

I walked out of the room which had been my prison for some time. The outside is a tunnel, extending to three directions. I immediately take running through the route that is elevated upwards. This usually means it lead to the surface.

... And for fucks sake, don’t let this place be a maze!

The corridor is pretty long, going on for several minutes, even when I was running through it. I was pretty fast, I noted but did not dwell on it. I eventually came upon a crossroad. There was a path to the left and a path to the right. Both elevated, but the left only slightly less. I looked at the right. There were large claw marks on the wall there.

Nope, left it is.

It did not take long for me to reach YET ANOTHER CROSSROAD. It is a maze. I am fucked! But before I even get a chance to cry out in frustration, some voices from a distance catch my attention. Curious, I follow them. Soon enough, I can make out what is being said. I stopped. A little walk away from me was a door that was open just a little bit.

I listened.

“I can’t believe that damn bird is still alive and kicking.”, Said the voice of the alpha, a slight growl mixed in there. Guess my little stunt still made an impression on his nads. “I should just kill it and be done with the whole thing.”

‘HAH! Come and try, mutt!’

“Dad, he’s not worth it!”, Another voice shouts out. It was the young bitch that visits me all the time. Seems like the alpha has a daughter. Just great!

“You are right. It is not worth my time. I’ll just send someone else to lynch it.”, The alpha growled. “And stop calling it a ‘he’.”

“But-”

“No buts!”, The alpha interjects. “You have already disappointed me gravely. Not only did you go there on your own, but some of our provisions also happen to disappear the same moment. Care to explain?”

There was a small silence.

“I... I did not want him to starve.”, The female speaks timidly.

The alpha sighs. Not angrily, or anything. It’s just a tired sigh. “Angel, dear. You need to stop caring for random creatures. Yes, I know how you feel about that, but this simply can’t continue. It is not supposed to work that way.”

“... But, dad-”, The female, whose name was Angel apparently, tried to speak up.

She was shushed. “Remember how that ended up with that baby manticore. The mother came to our den and injured several of your packmates.”

I could hear a sad whimper from within the room.

“Now ,now. No need to get sad over it. It was an honest mistake and no one blames you for it.”, The alpha comforts his daughter.

“... Heros does.”

“Heros’ mate lost an arm in that incident. He has his right for it, even if I do not approve. No one died. That is important.”

There was another pregnant pause that lasted for a while. I just stood perfectly still, inching a bit closer to the distant door.

“What about brother and sis?”, the female asked sounding a bit hopeful.

I could basically hear the alpha frown. I am not kidding!

“Nothing, still.”, He said “We still do not know where they might be. But I have a strong sense that that group of bandits that has appeared recently must have something to do with it.”

“... What if-”

“BOSS!!”

The talk was interrupted by a loud yell from inside the door. A panicked yell.

“BOSS! IT’S ALIVE! HE’S KILLING EVERYONE! IT’S BA-” A loud sound of rock breaking impact cut the sentence. A shriek was heard from inside the room.

“How could... Angel, run!”

“D-dad-”

“RUN!”

The door burst open, the female diamond dog leaving in a hurry. I made a split second decision to follow and as I passed the open door, I looked in. I saw it again. The massive form of a dog with two scars on top of it’s eyelids. The split second it took for me to pass the door I saw it clawing at the walls, widening the passage so it could get through. The alpha seemed to try and stop it’s advance.

I did not stay to watch.

The dog... Angel was faster than I thought and it took me little effort to keep up. Then again, I was not really trying to make a record here. When she took a turn, I took a turn. I did not think she saw me following her. Might be better.

I hear rumbling in the ground but don’t stop to think about what it might be.

I followed that bitch for several minutes, up until I stopped and let her leave my line of sight. Not that I needed her anymore.

I could see light at the end of the passage. You would not believe how relieved I felt. With one final spurt I took a running start and headed for the light. It came closer and closer. With one final jump, I was outside.

...

“GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”, I scream as the rays of the sun suddenly hit my retinas like a kamehameha. I touched the ground but stumbled into  the grass, rolling for a good distance from the speed I had gained from that short spurt. It did not hurt nearly as close as my eyes did.

“GOD DAMNIT! WHYYYYYY?!”, I yell out in pain, even if no one can actually hear me say it. How the hell can I be so stupid? In my temporary underground exile, I had forgotten about how light sensitive my eyes are. And now the volume of my screams tells more than words ever could.

I, for the first time try to move my wings to cover my eyes, but noooooo. Of course my wings must be like that of a damn ostrich! So big but short that they are worth JACK. FUCKING. SHIIIIIT!

“Oh my- What are you doing here?!”, I hear the voice of that damn female speak up in shock, BUT I AM TOO DISTRACTED BY THE PAIN TO LISTEN! “A-are you hurt.”

I just continue thrashing around on the ground, doing everything I can to cover my eyes, at least a little until I can adjust. Then I feel two paws cover my eyes. It is dark again. Thank. God! I stop my erratic movement and relax a little.

“Poor thing. Does the light hurt your eyes?”

‘NO SHIT!’ I just nod, a bit bitter that I can’t actually say that. Well, now that I was calm-ish, I jerked away from the paws, my eyes closed. I began to open them, letting in small amounts of light at a time.

Soon enough my eyes had adjusted to the point where it does not hurt like all seven rings of hell. I get up a bit clumsily and stand up in my full height. I look down on the diamond dog, who I tower easily.

She, however did not look at me anymore. She looked at the entrance to the underground caves form where the two of us just came out of. She looked... Worried.

“Dad...”, She whispered silently, but I heard it. Only a heartless guy can’t not feel bad for a sight like that.

Then the ground begins to shake, small tremors making themselves present all over the place. They grew in strength and seemed to be getting louder. The ground in front of me began to crack, so I took many hasty steps back, as did the female.

The cracks spread a bit more before the ground basically burst open like a volcano, shooting dirt and dust in every direction. I got some dust in my eye and blinked furiously to get it out. But then, from the dust came forward a form with a step that caused the earth to tremor slightly.

All of a sudden it looked a lot cloudier. Then I looked up and was both flabbergasted and terrified. Angel stumbled while backing away and fell, but did not stop her panicked escape. I just stood there.

In front of me, a mere foot away, stood the dog from the large cell, facing away from me. But now, it seemed even more massive, standing up on it’s muscular legs. The term ’giant’ was not enough to do it justice. Gargantuan was more closer to the truth. It stood way above me, at least five, maybe six times the size of the alpha from before. And unlike before, it was now clothed.

On it’s large hand it was now wearing some sort of gloves. A horrifying combination of red boxing gloves and spiked knuckle irons, some fresh blood was visible on the metallic parts and the dull spikes. On it’s torso it wore what looked like a very large, blood red long tailed coat with the sleeves torn off and a hood covering it’s head, aside from the ears that poke through. On the coat’s back was a picture of a skull with sewn shut eyes, some letters written on it's forehead.

B A L R O G

Waking- OH MY GOD I'M A BIRD!

Dreams... What are they? A figment of the sub-conscious? The spirit wandering to a realm detached from our own? Some brain induced hallucination? Aliens putting images into your head while showing a probe up your shitter?

Why am I asking you this?

Because I just don’t fucking know! No, seriously, I have never had a dream. Ever. Not even a fucking nightmare. I just sleep like a stone, literally. Because stones don’t think. Dumb rocks.

I just go to bed and wake up in the morning. Nothing in between. Abso- fucking -lutely nothing. Do you have any fucking clue how odd that is? My asshole of a psychiatrist says it may be the reason I’m so emotionally retarded. And that was a direct quote. The nerve of these fucking people!

…

Where the fuck was I?

...

Oh yeah!

So, I wake up from another period of stone sleep, and what is the first thing I see? Bars. Metal bars. At first I just stare at it blankly, thinking it is just a figment of my groggy self. Then I start waking up. My eyes widen a bit as I realize the sight in front of me is real.

My head jerks up, looking around. and guess what? Apparently I’m in a cage! Okay, it is more like a cell, but anyway. A large room. Four walls, three of which are rows of iron bars, by the way. I don’t know about you, but that seems like a fucking cage to me.

I know what a cell is, so do not give me those fucking looks! I have been in the slammer for a few weeks, so screw you! This is a bloody cage. End of discussion.

It is dark, but there seems to be some sort of torches on the walls... Or at least I think those are torches. I can see a bit of the rest of the room in the dim light. The room is rather large and there are two other cages/cells/whatever. One is pretty small, just about enough to house a single person. The other... man, it was big. Bigger than the one I was in, anyway.

There was a small puddle of water near me, and in the dim lighting I could see a mirror image of... something.

I saw a bird, or some kind of avian face. A beak, feathers and some mean looking eyes... Kinda looks familiar in a wa- OH MY GOD!‘No... It can’t be... maybe... Okay, hold a fucking moment.’

I cocked my head to the side to confirm a little suspicion I had. The bird thing did the same. I blinked my left eye, the mirror image followed. I opened my mouth, the bird opened it’s beak.

“...” A brief silence. “... Holy shitspinnin’ Christ I’M A FUCKING CHOCOBO!”

That is really all there is to say on the matter, so I’m gonna skip the part where I fangirl- SHUT UP! -about one of the best RPG of all time... Except X, X-2, XII and, the biggest offender, XIII. Those are shit.

After that had passed- I admit nothing -I started to think about this thing a little more thoroughly.

‘Ok, let’s recap a little. Died. Met Morgan Freeman. Woke up in a weird place that made my eyes bleed. Some dog thingies came. I... was knocked out... Yeah. I’m in a cage. I’m suddenly a feathery fluffball from Square...’ I’m starting to see the picture this is forming... And I understand jack shit.

I try to get up, but find out that it’s kinda tricky. My legs are different, the joints are in different places, the muscles respond differently. And don’t get me started on the bird feet! ... Yeah, I’m gonna have to figure out how this shit works... Fuuuuuuuuck. It’s school all over again, except not from Satan’s asscrack.

Firstly, let’s inspect these suckers! The legs are long, black colored, big surprise here, bird feet. Each seem to have four toes, three in the front and one on the back, which is weird since chocobos only have three, but whateve- OH SWEET! I have talons! Check out these curved bad boys! I just got half the more badass than I already am.

Enough inspection. Let’s cut to the chase...

‘Okay... that seems odd... wait, what if I do this... No. No, that is not it... Wait... Is that supposed to bend that way? OH GOD IT’S NOT SUPPOSE- Wait... No ,it does... Hmm, I wonder if I do this... and then I move that there... EUREKA!’

I manage to get myself into a standing position. It it times like these that make you feel like a fucking genius. But let’s get real here. This ain’t exactly rocket science, now is it, bitch? This is basic biology, and even a retard like you can figure this out.

Walking is the next step, pun intended. These new legs are pretty easy to use once you get the basic muscle placement down, as well as how they respond to stimuli.

…

What? Just because I don’t go to school doesn’t mean I ain’t smart. Internet. That is all there is to say on the matter.

I took a few practice rounds around my little cage, mainly because what the fuck am I supposed to do beside that? I’m in a cage for fucks sake! Each step gives me more information on how the legs function. My talons seem to give me better footing and I get the hang of this in no time.

-\/- Minutes in the future, but more than you think -\/-

“Why does this floor hurt so much!”, I yell out to no one in particular after my upteenth encounter with the stone floor of my prison... Okay, I admit. Walking in a new form is not as easy as I made it out to be. Go have a wank, or something. I don’t need your pity.

But seriously.

This floor cheats.

A sound of a steps gets my attention. Soon enough, three of those dog things walk to my cage. I recognize one as Mr. Weeney from earlier.

The second one is unfamiliar, and smaller than the two others. A dog with silvery fur wearing a green tunic of sorts... my Link sense is tingling. It was... kinda staring at me. I paid no heed to it though.

The third...

Hoo boy. This thing was the biggest, meanest looking thing I had ever seen. A dark grey furred beast of a dog wearing a black vest. Very finely built muscles were apparent all over it’s body, as well as a large array of scars... I’m gonna go off the handle and say that is a male and a... a... Damn it! What was it... The leader of a pack of... Alpha. This guy is an alpha of the pack. Has to be. I am fairly sure, so screw you nay-sayers!

The big alpha looked at me, sizing me up as I lay on the floor. I glare right back.

“Is this what you discovered? What is it?”, The alpha said in a gruff voice. I could say with certainty that that was the voice of someone old. Someone old who had seen battle, I mean.

In short, a total badass. I like him.

“We know not. We find it in forest.”, Weeney said. “It not very smart. Knock itself out.”

I suddenly feel a vein in my head expand. “Bitch, come over here and say that again!”, I jump up and shout out in a brief fit of anger. I am temperamental. Don’t judge. Mr. Weeney recoils at my yell, but the alpha just raises a brow at me.

An amused chuckle leaves the alpha’s mouth. “It seems this creature is at the very least intelligent enough to know when it is mocked, Heros.”, He said to Mr. Sausage, who’s name, I suppose, is Heros... That name is kinda cool, to be honest. Still gonna call him Weeney though. Because it’s funny. “Also, stop cowering like a pup! You are an embarrassment.”

… I am beginning to like this guy. He’s got a sense of authority around him. I can respect that.

The comment made Weeney grow a miniscule backbone again, stepping up and trying to stand tall. I shoot him a glare and, I swear this is true, I can see his eyes begin tearing up just the smallest bit while he keeps that tough look.

My question?

How motherfucking scary is my glare to do that? Or, alternatively, how much of a scaredy cat is this little puppy?

I say I am just that bad.

Badass, that is!

The alpha continued, “Whatever it is, it’s built is strong and steady. Maybe it can be of some use to us in the mines.”

“Mines? Fuck. That.”, I mutter under my breath. If this guy wants me to do something that demeaning, he has to come over here and make me.

And speak of the devil, the door to my cage is opened. I would run for it, but have no idea where I am, not to mention my path is blocked by a big dog. I am rash, not stupid. The alpha steps inside. Weeney and the small one stayed outside and seemed to observe.

The alpha looks at me and that is when we both realize something. As big as the alpha looked, he was looking up to me. I was taller by a head and a half, at least. Holy shit, I am huge! The alpha just lets out a dry chuckle.

“Well, let’s see how useful you are to us, chicken.”

Okay, I didn’t quite register what happened next, but I am quite sure but I might have, you know... snapped. Okay, here is the rundown of events that took place in the span of two seconds, based on my very hazy image of the event. But because I am not in the mood for long periods of small talk, allow me to give it in short, simple, dimwit-proof format for all you jackasses out there.

I kicked the big dog in the no-no zone, possibly making him sterile... Maybe... Most likely... Perhaps... Not... But then again...

Okay. I am not one to regret something once it is done, but man. The sound that I vaguely remember occuring on impact of my birdy leg smashing against his... Yeah... It was pretty... Aw fuck, I dunno.

Weeney dashed into the cage to help his leader, who was on the ground, on all fours, looking and sounding VERY much in pain. The small dog in the tunic stayed outside, looking shocked, covering it’s mouth with both hands... paws... You know what? They have fingers. Ergo, hands.

The alpha, through all the pain I give in a weeks time to some douche bouncers, glares at me with sudden anger. “Why you miserable pile of feathers!”, He snarled, the words wavering a bit. Can’t blame him. Weeney helps his leader stand up and leads him outside the cage, all the while I just glare at the alpha menacingly.

Don’t get me wrong but as bad as I feel for kicking him in the nads, I would do it again. Seriously. I would.

The cage door closes and is locked. I am trapped again. The alpha turns to me with a mean look and an aggressive growl. “We’ll get you to co-operate. Mark my words. A few days with nothing to eat might help with that attitude of yours.”

With that the three dogs left. The smallest one looked back at me briefly, but I disregarded it and sat down the best my bird body could. The door closed. It was dark again.

…

“Fuck food! I can do without it, so you ain’t getting shit from me!”, I yell at the empty darkness, in the direction of the door.

I avert my eyes off of the door and just look straight ahead, lacking anything better to do. So here I was again. Alone in the dark... ‘Wait a fucking second...What is that?’

I had to squint to confirm a little tidbit my brain just took in. There was a shape in the largest cell. I could not tell, as the light from the torch like thingies did not reach that far. But whatever it was, it did not seem to move. Like, at all. Either it is just some debris, or something dead. Well, whatever it is, it’s big. Even with some newfound perspective that... whatever looks huge.

I decide not to think about it too much. Probably nothing.

…

…

…

What the fuck am I supposed to do? Should I sleep? Nah, don’t feel like it. Just lie here? I don’t really see the point. Walk around with no purpose... I’m feeling too lazy for that...

Oh well. One thing is for certain. If that big dog want’s to keep me starving, fine! I’ll show you who’s the boss of me!

*~Groan~*

… That sound is a lie.

*~Groan~*

Seriously. Ignore it.

*~Groooooaaaaaan~*

… I just remembered I had not eaten anything prior to that one sandwich before, you know, dying... Oh well, I can handle this.

“Oh my Goooooood... How can hunger be this big of a pain in the ass?”, I groan. Okay, maybe I had overestimated myself. You have done it too. It has only been 2 hours, or something, I dunno, and I am already willing to kill for a piece of corn... And I fucking hate corn. With a passion.

They must burn and become popcorn-zombies. Which must then be killed again. With sulphuric acid. In a clown car.

It’s like double Hell, I know.

*~Groan~*

“Holy fucksnapper, shut up!”, I yell at my stomach. I may look like a madman, or an idiot, but you are not coming to tell me that, now are you? Unless you are like that and enjoy me kicking the shit out of you. Through your spine.

*~Groan~*

… Why is hunger suddenly such an issue with me? I’m in a fucking CAGE! Not Nick Cage, cus’ that would be gay. Also, Nick Cage sucks.

Fuck Nick Cage.

*~Groan~*

“Oh for the love of-!”, I am about to shout at myself as I hear the door open again. Raising my head a little, I glance at the direction of the only way out of this underground prison block. My cage door does not count.

The door is opened only a bit, a face looking inside before slipping through, closing the door quietly. It was the smaller dog Link-wannabe.‘Great, what does this one want?’

The dog quietly tiptoed in front of my cage. Funny, it seems to be holding something. I can see it looking at me, and judging by it’s eyes, it knows that I am looking at it as well. Well, less ‘look’ as ‘glare’. Did not seem to bother the dog though. It stopped right in front of my cage, still looking straight at me. It was a bit creepy.

Then, it spoke.

“I thought you might be hungry.”, It said and slid a small basket through the bars. And by it, I mean she. Look at me while I care like they do in Care-a-lot!

… Oh god, I just gave myself brain cancer for making that reference! I feel my brain melting like a popsicle under the magnifying glass!

I decide to just eye the basket a bit suspiciously. “... Thanks, I guess.”, I mutter, still looking at the basket. Who knows, a mutant siamese twin might jump out and gnaw my face off.

The dog gigglles, covering her mouth with a hand all girly like. “That noise you make is funny.”

My head jerks to her direction. “What noise? I’m clearly talking here, girl!”

The dog giggled again. “I’ll bring you more tomorrow. Bye!”, With those words, she left, carefully looking out the door before slipping out.

…

“Kweh?”

...

…

…

…!

What the hell was the sound that just left my mouth? I try to speak again.

“Kweh.(Test.)”, I say. My jaw flies open and pierces the ground till it comes out of the other end before PIERCING THE HEAVENS! Metaphorically. ‘How come I just made a chocobo noise? Have I been doing that the whole time? Why didn’t I notice? WHAT THE HELL?!’

… I must have been blocking it out, or something... Psychology is weird... Wait. Chocobos can’t talk. Then that means...

“KWEEEH KWEH! (Morgan Freeman, you asshole!)”

*~groan~*

… Okay. As much as I want to rage, I am too hungry to even think of that. The dog brought me food, might as well not be a stuck up asshole with too much pride being spoon fed to the little prick. I wonder what her name was... Meh, don’t care.

I get up and slowly, I’ve learned my lesson, so quick walk is right out, walk to the basket. I wonder what the dog brought for me. It was pretty obvious based on her actions that she was not supposed to be here, let alone bring this to me. Kinda of nice of her. She breaks  the rules. I like that.

I peer into the baskets... contents...

…

…

…

It’s motherFUCKING corn.

…

Corn!

…

…

CORN!

*~groan~*

… God.... God damnit... Looks like the alternatives are kinda, oh you know, NOT FUCKING HERE, so I am FORCED to devour this SPAWN of SATAN’S MOLDY ASS! This unholy TURD of BLASPHEMY! Stephen King’s favourite title for a book about a DEMON and BLOOD SACRIFICE!

...

...

...

CORN!

...

… Fine. I’ll eat the fucking corn...

God, I wish I was some other guy right now.

==>Be some Other Guy

A few weeks back, but not that many.

You now assume the perspective and location of some Other Guy. You look absently at the vast mounds of sand that would make this the worlds biggest sandbox... For giant babies. The hot desert air blows into you, carrying some sand along the ride. Straight in your face.

You sneer and snarl at the sight of the seemingly endless desert that spreads out before you into the far horizon. This would annoy you very greatly if it was not for the other thing getting on your nerves.

Some voice has suddenly appeared in your head, narrating everything you do and think. You find it immensely irritating, if not outright obnoxious. You hit yourself repeatedly with your fist as hard as you can in an attempt to make the voice stop. It seems to do nothing but encourage the voice, much to your growing grief.

But of course, some Other Guy is not your name, now is it? The very notion makes you wish to punch the jaw off of the one with enough nerve to actually assume that. But as it points out, albeit in an annoying manner, you are a Guy.

Now, what is this man’s name?

==> Insert name: