The Fall of McJesus: God's Final Commandment

[ghost]

He had done it.

He had done it.

After six, long, tedious, strife-bearing years, the well-known Brawler had done the impossible. Defeating a titan who had bested so many, eliminating the final threat that had for so long prolonged the growth and expansion of the Brawlers into regions such as the Negasphere and the Cavern. The one who had not one ally but himself, and his own demonic plagiarisms of living, organic beings.

As the red Combustion God, smothered in purple and black blood, he tried at a breather, sighing relief into the griming air. It was a fresh, new day for the White Void. A chance to begin what Balto and Mega had dreamed of so long, finally, with his effort and the loss of so many, it could become a reality.


And yet it was not just for him.

Despite the promotional speeches, the promising victories, and the blood most definitely lost to the battlefield. The blood of soldiers, men of stone who believed in and fought for falsehood, forwarding to a much more sinister cause.

He was the only one who knew the true faults of it.

As had Illidon, the purple giant he was, as a cherry explosion tore apart the living flesh above his nose. (One of Illidon's technologies had limited the projection of spontaneous injury to certain parameters.)

And now, after burying the monster in rubble and stone, McJesus stood, wiping but utterly smearing the gore from his battered, confusing face, and began to sprint, far from the demolished lair.

Far from the soldiers that survived, far from the emerging transports and helicopters. Away from the reinforcements and the medics. Most certainly in the opposite direction of civilization. In no reality or dream would he ever return to Brawl City, no, he would exist in the Wilderness forever, until the day came, Balto would give his order, the order McJesus himself had read over, and agreed to fully, understanding the consequences and it's incidental nature, knowing he himself had been the reason for it's necessity...

Seven months later...the true nightmare began...

SUPER MS PAINT BRAWL

'The Fall Of McJesus'

An Epic Tale of Love and Death

Prologue
Falling Apart From Your Side

*Two months earlier...*

A cheap room. A cheap motel.

The reek of cheap vodka and the surprisingly still arousing jump-start of a grey, wispy smoke cloud emitted from a thin, almost finished cigarette, precariously dipped in a half-full ashtray ornamented with more cigarettes, lying on the drawer to the right of the bed.

That was how their last day was spent.

That's what he pondered, slipping his arm off the adjourned body sleeping next to him and reaching for the cigarette. Still lit...good...

A hand tugged his exposed shoulder, the hand was strong enough to pull him back into the bed, but he skillfully pulled his cigarette around without dropping or burning it out.

An angel's lips met his, and he returned the gesture with silence, accepting it heartfully. A pinkish, soft nose retreated slowly from his; Two, pure purple eyes grasped his own, shifting around them were swirls of once-frizzy, matted, ruffled chestnut hair with slight hairs pointing in awkward directions out of place fell into his vision. He refused to let her lose eye level with him, begging mentally for another sweet kiss.

She almost did, lips forming a warm oval. But something irritated him, and he stopped her, glancing over at the clock above them. 3AM.

"Will..." Angelface pleaded in her naturally quite, yet concerned voice.

"Don't call me that. I can never use that name again...I'm McJesus forever now. The Brawl has a new Will now. He suits the name better..."

He struggled to force his limp, tired legs and their respective feet to the ground, sliding from Angelface's arms that had comfortably wrapped around his waist as they slept.

A final night together. Away from politics, just barely bordering civilization, in a small, rural mozilla where satellites, troopers, and searchlights could not scan or spot either of them.

He had wanted it this way. Balto had sympathized, but bristled seeing how he could not call of the searches. The idea of hiding away in such a low-rent, ambiguous place was brilliant, the BCPD, the SWAT, not even the FBI would be willing enough to investigate the Wilderness so throughly, and with the get-up he wore before meeting her in this motel, he fit in like a bee to it's hive.

"McJesus..." Angelface clutched his shoulder, holding their large, apricot blanket to her chest with one hand and pulling him with the other. Strong she may have been through grip, McJesus was able to push himself out of bed, allowing her hand to remain above his shoulder.

She scooted closer, sitting on her knees with the blanket draped over her loosely. Her face fit in like a puzzle piece, leaning inches away from her lover's neck and face. He forced a smile.

"Why did it have to be this way?"

"Balto told me what the consequences were of killing Illidon. I did it anyway, now I have it, and now I have the consequences that come with it." He lifted his now freezing legs and stuffed them into dark red sweatpants, feet emerging on both ends.

Now the Angel had given up, abandoning her blanket and pressing hard against his back. McJesus huffed, leaning slightly and leting another kiss descend unto him. This one tasted not only of love, but of tears. He opened his eyes, to see that his beloved Angelface was sobbing frantically.

"Remember me. Everything. What I did, and what happened because of it." He grabbed her wrists and held them tightly, leveling with her face, noses inches apart.

"But...but...we can't..."

"We can't. I have to. You can." the tears began to evaporate on her cheeks as those words drizzled from his mouth lullingly, like petals drenched by a storm.

"But what if it's..." she stopped, realizing she was fooling herself now. The one man who accepted her, the kindest and most loving person she had ever thought to have existed, looking forward, if not trodding towards, a future so grim and unpleasant.

One where they would be separated, for with a period of decades before possible reunion. Sure, he was dead to start with, but that very fact alone made the idea of reincarnation or recertification of his corporeal soul terrifyingly doubtful. How did he seem so chipper about it? Like death wasn't all that bad, even funner with the chance of losing his immortal soul for all eternity.

Two, giant wings lifted her pillow, dropping it to the bed and then the floor as they folded around her head. They patted him, embracing him in a hug in sync with her arms, making the task of slipping on his bole trench coat even more difficult.

He stood up, feeling the wings shudder in surprise, if not just from the angel's emotions. He exited into the bathroom, gazing into the dirty mirror that sill managed to reflect the filthy, haggard look he'd been carrying around for days waiting for Angelface to arrive.

Other than the various bruises, dirt gashes, and cuts he had along his head and arms and chest, the most disgusting was his unattended, fully grown-out beard. Tendrils of unwashed, uncombed liver scampered down his chin, spreading at least four inches beneath his face and rubbing against his choice.

Holding up the razor, a quick display of speed, expertise, and precision went by, and minutes later McJesus stepped out, not caring that he wasn't fully-clothed.

It was his last few days anyway.

An unbuttoned trench coat, a radish brown fedora, torn and ragged red pants seemed almost unanimously fitting for a grave, or so at least he had thought.

Angelface was partially dressed by now as well. Her hair was fixed, and portions of it were returned to the dye purple they had been upon arrival. Her emerald mini-skirt flared as light seeped into the room, and a beige brassiere was hooked around her chest, decorated with wing-like patterns and with two modifications made to support and alienate her wings. He never DID figure out how she managed to harness and buckle them securely into her clothing...

She turned, slipping on an olivine blouse and a light blue undershirt, and hugged McJesus tenderly. He held for a while, ignoring the rising factory that was becoming 5AM, a bad time, and a bad destination, as well as a bad place for him to be with her around.

They exhanged a final, parting kiss as McJesus stepped outside, scanning the sky for light colors. As he had presumed, a bleeping red covered the area before him, invisible to most with eyesight any lesser than his own. Angelface stepped out too, holding her suitcase and his own, previously discarded one, packaged with memories. She nodded towards him, the suitcases held in front of her were shaking wildly.

Behind her bistre shades, he knew, tears were taking form, and he nodded back to her, flipping on his own burgundy shades before walking away in the opposite direction of her. There was no way Balto, or ANY of the other officials were going to have her. He would make sure of that, that she was miles, no, LIGHTYEARS away before the nightmare that was reality started.

"Get as far away as you can. Don't head for the city until the PM is sent out." he had whispered too her.

"I love you."

"I love you too..." she had whispered back, still standing by the opened motel door and watching until her lover, the soon-to-be-dead McJesus himself, faded into the sunrise, over the next white grass hill, an out of sight, forever.

June 16th, 2008.
11:18 AM.

The Void begins...and the Legend ends...

~Smile Through The Haziness

[spawner]

Holy crap! This is awesome, im REALLY looking forward to the next chapter

[Maybe Might Not Be Moneybags]

Other than the fact that in the proluoge, McJesus talks about having killed Illidon, this is freaking brilliant.

[ghost]

Jun 16, 2008 14:17:53 GMT -5 Maybe Might Not Be Moneybags said:

McJesus talks about having killed Illidon

Tis a WEE' more complicated than that I'm afraid.

[rabiesisme]

This is great but... what's happening to your other fanfics?

[ghost]

Jun 16, 2008 15:19:56 GMT -5 @rabiesisme said:

This is great but... what's happening to your other fanfics?

The Subspace Emissary is on hold until the thread pics up.
I'm probably canceling Gold Planet. There's just not much more to it I can think of.
The Brawler's Eve was pointless, and is the basic emphasis of this story, so I've deleted it.
Microsoft Paint Brawl will continue. So hurray.

As of now, I've been doing a lot of thread novelizations. So I've been jumping around lately.

[spawner]

On hold till the thread picks up? Its not going to pick up unless you post in it!

[Grimscott]

Jun 16, 2008 16:18:12 GMT -5 ghost said:

Microsoft Paint Brawl will continue.

Which makes me happy, because I absolutely love that one.

[Hat Salesman]

This story makes me orgasm. Next chapter pl0x.

[destructin]

Awesome!

[rabiesisme]

Jun 16, 2008 16:49:33 GMT -5 Grimscott said:

Jun 16, 2008 16:18:12 GMT -5 ghost said:

Microsoft Paint Brawl will continue.

Which makes me happy, because I absolutely love that one.

Agreed. Probably the best one on the site.

[McJ]

Words cannot describe how much I'm enjoying this, can't wait for more. Ghost, you're probable the most underrated fella on this site.

[RobotKilla]

Jun 17, 2008 1:42:43 GMT -5 @McJ said:

Words cannot describe how much I'm enjoying this, can't wait for more. Ghost, you're probable the most underrated fella on this site.

Hey! over here! Yo! over here! *start waving arms frantically*

[Balto-Boy]

*gets in comfy chair and grabs bubble pipe*

*waits patiently for next chapter*

[McJ]

Jun 17, 2008 16:26:32 GMT -5 RobotKilla said:

Jun 17, 2008 1:42:43 GMT -5 @McJ said:

Words cannot describe how much I'm enjoying this, can't wait for more. Ghost, you're probable the most underrated fella on this site.

Hey! over here! Yo! over here! *start waving arms frantically*

I'm talking about writing.

[ghost]

Chapter One
Smile Through The Haziness

"Two Months Later..."

Somehow, though it seemed perplexing, the orange warmonger collapsed at his feet, face buried in a mess of shuttered gravel, flesh, and bone. The grimy, blood-splattered fingers above him curled into fists, their master grinded his teeth and in a blaze of fury, he opened his hand, and began slamming the busted head into the ground. Again and again, each strike more violent than the last. A sinister twin apathy teased him, even as he struck it, laughing harder and harder, until his own knuckles had become a deathly white and near the verge of bleeding. Until the damned man's own gums became a pair of gloves.

The pain would not stop screaming at him...but he stopped, left eye twitching.

He exhaled, calming, and concentrated, letting the shockwave of energy carry him through the air, skidding into the colorless earth before finally halting near the edge of nothingness. His legs were rolled in a fetal position, his arms scrunched in an awkward angle. He didn't bother fixing himself in a more comfortable squat for it wouldn't matter. The next attack would come seconds later...

To think it had all once been so simple...

"Deus..." he whispered. The void heated around him.

"Am I really-"

CRA-KRA-BRAOOM!!!!

'The Fall Of McJesus'

An Epic Tale of Love and Death

"Balto." John Onoreeurix greeted him, binoculars dangling by it's strap and hitting his chest willingly, "I didn-"

"Where's that Anti Christ of ours this evening?" the WMD leader approached him, his voice no longer disguised in the comic banter he usually spoke in, "How are the squads fairing?"

The terror in the treasure hunter's spine fled, hiding his gulp as his face tightned before responding, "Well, Vulcan Squad was reported dead 400 hours ago by Rofflez. Destructos has just engaged the target."

Balto's lips flattened to a humorless smile. This time, John's gulp was audible, the mistake of the millennium. Balto faced him, arms wrapped around his waist like a belt. John shuddered, backing away ever more with a step every twelve seconds. And for every twelve seconds, Balto met his step with two more and an even madder glare, until the very top of his nose was dampened by John's short breathes.

The sinewy, brown arm slung from behind the WMD's back, causing John to throw his arms up in defense. The matted, skin-like brown fur along his arm brazened as a viscous boom combed over it, emitted from where instead of a hand, a large brass-colored glove glowed. From the one, extended finger, a small, chartreuse ball formed. On a first glance, it was harmless.

Many knew otherwise.

The ball splintered, keeling like a sick man stricken with a sudden case of rigor mortis, bending like a steel plank, before bursting with white light, exploding from it's manifested sphere and enlarging itself considerably. The ball stretched to an impossible width and became a large green beam, directed by it's wielder's command, and shot fiercely to the west.

The resulting sound was an explosion, a violent earthquake and an aftershock. John forced his eyes shut as the sky turned black, and as it simmered, a silver cloud sparkled over the horizon, signaling the beam's end.

From where Balto had been pointing, far from the beam's destination, the finger laser had punched right through an unsuspecting stationed guard. Smoke sizzled from his exposed intestines, and where an armored soldier had once resided, a ripened hole half the size of a desk remained, leaving behind a bloody, dismembered thing that, stricken with an unknowable pain, beckoned for aid, before collapsing, hot crimson liquid and inflamed, fleshy organs spilling out in buckets.

If there was one thing about John's horrified expression Balto personally enjoyed, it was the bulging vein between his comically-squinted eyes, the captain looked as if he was literally about to pop a blood vessel above his nose.

"That will be all, Captain." Balto walked off, smirking at the stirred reactions of some of his "most trained defenders". Pathetic.

John whipped around. Balto's hand was on his shoulder, the same impossibly wicked grin held on his face for an unknown amount of time. To be fully honest, the grey-shirted treasure hunter had lost count.

"Oh and John...I have an associate of mine for you to meet."

Balto dropped his head to the right, studying John's bewildered face.

...Never in the history of the Brawl or the White Void itself had there ever been a louder scream.

August 5th, 2008
9:48 PM

The Combustion God found himself lost in his hands. The feeling of slime oozed between his fingernails and the slits that pulled his fingers together. It was a disgusting sensation really, this euphoria.

This narcissistic, death-welcoming eagerness to fight. To kill. To win.

Was he going mad?

Markus didn't answer, pounding his palm into the void for any hope of solid earth and not just flaming gas scissoring his skin.

"What's the matter?" McJesus gestured, pushing the back of his head with his left foot, the heat from his incinerated bald spots moaned through the burgundy loafer's weakened outsole, "Did I hit you too ha-"

POW!

A hammer crashed into the Combustion God's jaw, his remaining teeth bounced from their gums, yanked back only as the same golden hammer smashed the god's lips together. Markus, sprung from his tomb and wary of the instantaneous explosions, held not a punch as he battered McJesus, right-hooking and jabbing him constantly, the hail of punches never seeming to end.

"WHY WON'T YOU DIE!" the gauntlet-wielder cried, snatching McJesus by his throat.

He leaped, the god still in his grasp, high into the air. He spun, throwing him, only to join with a wing of flame that razed his left arm. Bone exploded from within Markus, and he tumbled with the left side of his body completely blown off. The gauntlet, still intact and virtually unscathed, weighted him, stabbing the unconscious Markus into the void like a melted fork.

McJesus landed beside him. His eyes burned red, and from them a scarlet laser thinned out to Markus's torso. It sliced upward and down, burning the man's flesh to nothing but ash and withered bone, until after the flames died only a portion of the skeleton of his wrist remained, still tethered to the glove.

"Let's see...what you can do for me...grh." grunted McJesus, struggling to pluck the gauntlet from the ground.

He wheezed, ignoring the serious blow dealt to his forehead by the insanely powerful gauntlet. Blood laced down his forehead, but it failed to phase him, not as the gauntlet broke from the void, lifted in both of his arms.

The golden power resonating from within it cooled, and against the Combustion God's wishes, it's color drained into the remaining "wrist" at it's top. He cursed at it, hissed at it, and threw it to the ground, angered by it's sudden dull, lifeless color.

"Is this the price of power, Balto!?" he shouted, not caring to who. "ANSWER ME!!!!" he pleaded, to no one near.

From behind an opened bolder, a blue hat rested quietly on the head of a particularly "enlightened" BlueRich, who had become so delighted with breathing that his very rib cage had been blasted open, his heart immolated, and the entire top half of his body now vanished except for his two, now cauterized legs. McJesus strolled over them nonchalantly, swinging his arm back and forth.

"Madness I am, a bastard I am not." he murmured, throwing his hand forward and igniting the horizon miles before him in a cherry cloud, sending the foes before him into oblivion. Had the little bastards been over there? Were they really, weren't they over there? Fuddlekiss, it didn't make a lick of sense!

And yet with all of the soulful feasts he had lived off of these previous two months, the dreadful time since that dreaded day, it still appeared that his belly, bold in it's constant plot against him and dominant by it's method of controlling one of even his power, complained with another echo or pain-belching sighs.

Now he was going mad. And it continued to grow and growl...

~Death, A Drug By Any Other Name, Would Be Just As Sweet.

[destructin]

Awww :C

Anyway, its all good.

[taylor]

what do you mean he made the negasphere? i fucking started the negasphere!

good story, but i really started it!

[McJesus]

The negasphere? I'm pretty sure you've misread something; Ghost was talking about how Illidon stopped the Brawlers from advancing into the Negasphere (and Cavern).

And as usual, one helluva kickass chapter Ghost. :D

[Deleted]

Damn Ghost, this story is probably one of the best I've ever read, keep it up!

[ghost]

Aug 6, 2008 6:21:52 GMT -5 @taylor said:

what do you mean he made the negasphere? i fucking started the negasphere!

good story, but i really started it!

Where'd I say who created the negasphere? If you mean Balto's glove, I think you misinterpreted the scene there.

Ter, thuch manks for saving me the time.

Chapter Two
Death, A Drug By Any Other Name Would Be Just As Sweet

The M1-24 Hind descended forty miles from the facility, setting down upon the endless fields of snow. He had fallen asleep on the voyage, and the moment he'd awakened and the thirty-three caffeine-strong hours he had spent on duty, snow had continued to fall.

The Hind was forced to constantly ascend as they neared this turkish place. Bigger and bigger hills formed, some of them littered with corpses and unnatural deformations. The sheer number of pits and trenches in the cold region was astronomical, it would have taken at least a thousand years of war for so many trenches to become filled with so many...iced-over corpses.

"100 Hours until confirmation. Gear up, and prepare for the most suicidal mission of your lives, boys." the gunship's pilot, a young girl with taupe grey hair, probably half the age of everyone else aboard, announced. He didn't know her name, despite the two having talked for so long before the mission, but there was something about...or rather on her he assumed he didn't want to know to know about.

"Combustion Man." she called him.

He walked into the cockpit, ignoring the complaint of the co-pilot, Lieutenant R. "Blood" as they nicknamed him for dubious reasons. The two had never gotten along considering the god's ability to virtually DESTROY the entire ship with a care-free, murderous thought, regardless of strategic maneuvering or the strength of alloy.

"Pilot." he dubbed her, careful to avoid the four, sharp titanium "wings" jutting from the back of her green flight jockey's jacket, "Isn't that uncomfortable?"

She shrugged, pushing her shoulders in slightly as the Hind dropped a few feet before halting, "You sort of get used to it. Doesn't do much for my laundry bill-" she pointed with her thumb, leaning forward from her seat. McJesus browsed the wings downward, to Pilot's back where four holes pushed the wings through. He turned back to her as she leaned back, easing as the ship finally landed.

"You know, I never caught your name."

"I never caught yours. Combustion Man works right?" she closed her eyes, resting her head on her hands.

He raised his arm in question, but lowered it and matted his lips, blowing two air bubbles against his cheeks. The inaccuracy of that statement was disturbingly....well, inaccurate.

"Yeah, that works." he said, turning away as the exit hatch swung open with a screech.

"Say." she drew him just as he was inches away, "You don't REALLY think you can kill this guy, right?"

Silence was abundant for the next few seconds, he didn't dare to try and lie to someone so young, let alone a lady. But he didn't dare to tell the whole truth to her face either. As he pondered it, a fist pounded his elbow. When he looked, Pilot was standing there, her gloved opened to reveal a loaded handgun, a Taurus Milennium, with so many illegal and questionably expensive customizations to it that the common policeman would be baffled just to see it in the hands of a woman, let alone the abnormal woman she was.

His focus dropped from her face to the gun, then back to her face, "I can arrest you on at least twenty-seven charges for this, you know."

"Yeah." she winked, smiling, "Book me when you come back."

To his own surprise, the Combustion Man was chuckling. He waved his hand in a 'no' gesture, making the Pilot blink before slipping the illegal firearm back into it's covered holster.

"No thanks, firearms aren't really my style."

"But can't you like, I don't know, make the bullets EXPLODE on impact?"

"Illidon..." he gestured swiftly, "can make them EXPLODE before they even leave the chamber."

The silence had returned. The young Pilot was noticeably disturbed by that remark, more than enough clue for him to turn and bill out of the gunship with the rest of his doomed team. She turned back to her seat slowly, blinking only as McJesus and the bulk of Team Awesomeness passed into the nearby hills,until the snowstorm had hidden them from her vision.

And somehow, the chance of those same brown pupils meeting hers again became an ambiguity. Pilot gulped. This mission was wrong...

Ugly. In every sense. Of the word.

'The Fall Of McJesus'

An Epic Tale of Love and Death

June 15th, 2008

The guitar-armed man, Fifth Watchmen Rabies I. Meevil, flicked the end of his purple guitar around the chrome walls. Getting inside this nightmare was no problem for the weak and tired man, finding his way and gaining control over his own dream was the trick.

Their situation was no different, well, except for the heap of broken bodies flailed about into walls and other creative impalements. ZPN Right-Flow Man "Madgamer" Jericho was all but mostly responsible for these, having had too much fun experimenting with his portal gun and not understanding the meaning of "physical disruption".

"Two-five, circle the secondary reactor and regroup near the Throne." McJesus whispered into the COM, receiving a stare from Gamer and an uncertain nod from Rabies.

"Who the hell put you in charge?" Gamer spoke aloud, making Rabies cover his head.

"Do you want to be eviscerated-" McJesus shushed him, to no avail as Gamer continued.

"Listen, beyond the grave. I started this tea-"

"Listen crack junkie, I don't care who started this team. I was put on this mission to keep you two alive." it was a cruel lie, but he swallowed it nonetheless, "So whether you like getting told what to do or not, I have better things to be doing then putting up with some kid with OCD. I have worlds to save!

"Screw you, I could just TELEPORT out of here and-!"

"Then why haven't you done it yet!"

Rabies intervened before Jericho could offer a retort, "Stow it you two, HIVES at TWELVE A' CLOCK!" and immediately began strumming his guitar, releasing a boulder of energy that collided with a swarm of techno-organic bats, a personal invasion species controlled via genetic engineering called HIVES that invaded the ceiling.

Jericho twisted, splashing a portal onto the upper part of the ceiling and another against the floor. McJesus dashed into it, falling out of the receiving portal and into the mass of bats.

Cherry blossoms coagulated the swarm into a rain of heated, disassembled clumps of unknown gel. As McJesus landed, Gamer glanced at the slime showering them, as did Rabies.

All three broke into uncontrollable laughter.

~There was light, and then a rainbow.

[McJesus]

Loving this as always! :D

[atlasttrulyaghost]

MEGA UPDATE Part 1.

Unknown Time Period

The sun rose from it's hiding place, the sky beckoned it as it grew darker and darker without the moon's presence. Flames upstarted the moment the sun hit it's peak, explosions of gas and methane crackled under the once chrome white ground, buildings and structures disassembled like toys right out of the cereal box. And from within that inferno, from where the sun dare not tread, a man cried out "Save them."

SUPER MS PAINT BRAWL

'The Fall Of McJesus'

An Epic Tale of Love and Death

Chapter Three
There was Light, and then a Rainbow

SMASH. THREATEN. FINISH.

That was the three-button tactic he used. That was how it worked after all. Balto didn't give a damn, John didn't give a damn, his dead friends, Trin, Apollo, FOURARMS. They all didn't give a damn. The process of salting the earth was a long, and boring one. Not too long ago, he would have considered rebelling against God's plan, Balto's true purpose and the events that welded them. But even-

SNAP. A truck blew apart, it's insides charred and pushing out against the exterior metal. The agents inside were fried.

-the ability to make everything blow up as you wish, and laser beams, and even magic materialism didn't make you anymore godly than God himself. It was disgusting to look at himself now, a fool for having believed in such a thing. But that was a long time ago.

"A long..time ago..." he whispered into the ears of Larry. The orange hair grayed, the satisfying KRICK let the Combustion God free his hold. Larry's pet, a green-lined ball, in truth a demonic entity imprisoned in that form, smiled as it's "master's" fallen form crumpled at McJesus's feet.

The ball didn't have a second to scream as it's insides were roasted, then carved open by a massive flux of volatile cherries.

"Eighty four dead...how many does that leave..." McJesus strolled across the minefield, disguised as a gas station out in the middle of nowhere. One of the potent tricks to being a master of explosions, was sensing and understanding the complex structure, format, position, and nature of explosives themselves. He followed a path that soldiers could not, almost carelessly waltzing through the mines without setting them off. They wouldn't have hurt him even if he set one off, but he felt a sudden calm in the silence of the Void this evening. He needed time to think, to calculate how long it had been, and why Time itself had become a waterfall, plunging off the deep end of reality's ravine without sense or purpose, smashing against nonsensically-formed rock formations, destroyed by a wicked man's own misconception of the human-made artifact.

Things didn't make sense any more. After killing Illidon, he was supposed to die after two months of fighting impossible odds, even by his tier. No one expected him to survive, not even "God" himself. That's why the odds, the Brawlers were being respawned, they were given more...animalistic traits. That was where the newcomers were crawling from!

That had to be it! But no...it couldn't be. That didn't explain his difficulty determining the length of time? Had Balto called it off? No, that furry bastard had it all planned out like a Frank Miller comic book, no direction visible but a path revealed at the end, even if it wasn't where he had started.

Riddles. That was all he could think of. Well...not all...

He licked his thumb, a violet cocoon of gas rippled across from him, the form of Destruction, or at least an afterimage, shattered the clouds with finesse', twisting his body around to a questionable length. The gauntlet, something McJesus didn't think he'd ever see again, came plowing into his nose. He wanted to scream, but Destruction's pinky knuckle blocked the yell. His nostrils had caved in, he couldn't breath and as he gathered the concentration to conjure another explosion, something tickled him.

PA-PA-PA-PA-PLAOOOOOWWWWOOOOO!!!!!

A thrum of blue waves sang into his ears, the miracle that was rocket propulsion carried him to his bed of rocks, the sharp ones reminded him of Pain, who along with Content had exited him many hours prior. He didn't have time to put things into a logical metaphor, he had to fight...but the Pain crippled him.

He stared, as a blue, lean figure berated Destruction, barreling an explosion into his side, blowing away the left half of his body. Blood coursed, unable to clot, and he fell, the blue McJesus started after him, hands behind him and a fissure of crimson energy forcing him downward.

What happened next, and how he arrived there, was something McJesus chuckled at, blood clotted between his teeth, and shut his eyes, finally at rest.

[McJesus]

Well now I'm confused.

[atlasttrulyaghost]

MEGA UPDATE Part 2. (My mouse is a piece of crap, forgive me.)

Chapter Three (cont.)
June Sixteenth

The throne room of Illidon was immense, and as intense as it was to play upon the "statement" of it's size, not even MadVideoGamer could manage so much as a crackly grin to see the giant warlord, Illidon, encased in stone, sitting on his own, skull-decorated throne, without a single guard or soldier or servant near him.

"This is going to look great on our debriefing..." Rabies scratched his head, guitar dangling around his neck listlessly. McJesus breathed hot air into his hand, the chill taping his knuckles together refused to thaw. He could fix this with a small incision into the atoms around it, but the resulting explosion would not ONLY kill his teammates, but would trigger the defense systems.

If there was a word for "clever bastard", Illidon would be the textbook definition. It was unlikely that information was being leaked, Brawl HQ was a tightly-knit network of hush-hush information, the only reason they had even made it was because of Balto's discriminating efforts to bring them in. But somehow, Illidon knew the EXACT specs of their mission, who was being brought along, equipment, even their battle strategy.

The last two days had been lived fighting off of natural instinct, the element of surprise, and sheer dumb luck. The walls were lined with a super-durable alloy that could literally stand up against multiple simultaneous explosions. Nanites and other foreign technology within prevented the IMMEDIATE collapse of the wall in the case of a section or portion of it being blasted through, off, or removed. That limited his usually chaotic means of movement, and overall fighting ability. He had to keep the other two alive...

Rabies was virtually useless, his guitar's energy barely scratched the robotic legions under Illidon's command. Fire merely waxed their hollow shells, the Decibel Fist dissipated on contact, and his electricity was only good for disabling and/or activating panels or mechanized machines. Mad Gamer was potentially the most stifled, his Portal Gun was incapable of splashing portals on a number of surfaces, and whatever metals that included, Illidon's inner sanctum was MEASURED with it.

An ominous voice loomed above, the cold metallic cavities of the throne room gave it a monochromatic tone, that kind of creepy undertone that to the trained ear is a subliminal message crying, "Kill me" right before it vanishes. McJesus braced his arm, ready to chuck a red explosion and paint the ceiling alizarin. The electronic voice called out, "Good morning, Will Stickman. Robert Meville. Jericho Madden."

They knew not to respond. Suddenly, the stone carcass of Illidon shivered, the stone on it's mouth grinded and formed a shambling smile, McJesus quickened and fired off an explosion. The red knife whizzed through the air and halted, a barrier placed specifically in preparation of it catching it. The knife withered, shaking with it's final second of life, and exploded, fire spilled above the team and they ran for cover.

The statue began to crumble: First, the legs snapped off, glued to the floor, and watched above as the knees, along with the torso and abs slid forward, breaking apart on contact with the chairs arms. The head remained, and from it, purple goo ruptured from it's missing section, out of the goo formed a purple McJesus, a sinister smile carved where a face should have been, who instantly combusted into a blob of inconceivable damage. The Illidon protoplasm reappeared, splashing around them as banana portal discharges, grape decibels, and red cherries flew in every direction, concentrating energy toward the center. McJesus whirled, pushing Jericho and Rabies away with a lesser force, his hands matched the purple clone's explosion as rained own upon it, razing the outer explosion. It severed, and a knee went into his jaw.

He spun, catching himself on his knees and rolling to avoid the clone's next attack. Without thinking, he joined two atoms behind him, detonating a shockwave of energy that pounded into the plasma, it's form was ravaged and slowly deceased.

"A litll..HELP...garck!" Rabies chimed aggravatingly, his own Decibel Fist shattered what was left of his arm, ripped away by a fierce slice of enrgy.

Another protoplasm, in the shape of Rabies, was stringing off combos of energy, mixing the four powers fluently. First he fired a bolt of electricity, stunning the guitar player. Next, he covered his body with light orange fire, coupled with the electricity and then the Decibel Fist, smashing into Rabies and while settling the flame, doubling the agony he woefully embraced.

McJesus tried to sprint for him, but a portal opened up beneath his feet. He shot a glance at Gamer right before he descended, falling through the floor and to the ceiling, the blue energy cut away skin on his forehead, flaps of flesh coloring his temples. He wiped it away, spotting Gamer engaged in a "portal fight" with a third protoplasm, who in proper trigger-happiness was throwing his gun in every space, the portal discharges they fired collided in middle air, canceling each other out.

'Alright...they're harmless...but what about Rabies!? Got it!' the ten-second plan he'd formulated glowed on Rabies's body, which was being cut up badly by repeated bursts of flame and electricity, it was impossible to say whether the Rabies clone was insane or simply relentless.

McJesus swerved with a brief jet of explosions, banging his body into a cylindrical object strung up by the ceiling. He wrapped his arm around it and waited, studying the clone Gamer' portals intently. Unlike the originals, these portals didn't close right away as each one was fired, giving him a short opportunity to enter or exit each one.

'Now!' he focused onto an atom, the explosion severed the cylinder object from it's positioning, taking him down with it. He dought for control, but it was hopeless. Now it would be a matter of whether the portal remained open.

Concentrating, he wailed his arm up and down the object, slicing away sections too big for the portal's opening. Light flashed into his eye, multiple colors spawned by the two portal-makers whizzed past him also. He leapt, abandoning the cylinder as it vanished into the portal, traveling it's own route as it exited a portal stickied to the wall.

[ghost]

MEGA UPDATE PART 3. (Possibly the longest chapter I've ever written here).

Chapter Three
Blood Pact

McJesus rubbed his eyes furiously with two cold, dry hands. His skin was almost bleach white from having been in the light red, one-size tunic he'd worn for so long. The air around him, the temperature, certainly higher than what he'd experienced outside, was different. He tried to focus, and he realized that the blue figure from earlier was standing in front of him. But it wasn't just him, no, there were three more.

Suddenly, the situation stomped on him with metal cleats, he drew one arm forward and straightened himself, now up to level with the blue figure. He could hear him, the familiar chattering of teeth made him want to speak, to identify, but still, his memory was fleeting. But what he did know, was that the three around him were the same people he had felt earlier, the ones tracking him miles back before he had left AngelFace at the motel, south of Brawl.

Ahead of Mr. Blue was a melancholic if there ever was, a man with pale skin, a bald head the same as his own, and a still, tranquil expression, his fingers were crossed in odd slits. Next to him, a tall gentleman with four limbs protruding from the normal, common areas and two more arms separated inches apart underneath on his waists, a cap was turned around on his head. To the left of the four-armed man was a tan, again bald-headed visitor, a gray panel of steel or metal emblazoned on his right temple. He was nibbling on a cigarette, as if he was sucking information out of it to no avail.

"You er...need a lighter?" Four Arms offered mockingly.

"Shut up." Hacker shot him a nasty glare, then turning back to his task of chewing the cigarette and leaving bite marks on it. But he turned, surprised and grinning, as he realized that his friend was already awake, "Ah, you're up. About time."

Then they all turned, though the silent Whisper merely widened one of his tightly-shut eyes, peeking as McJesus took a prided step forward, meeting his friends, brothers, comrades in a warm embrace. Four Arms, euphoric as ever, handed him a cigarette, which he eagerly accepted, snapping up a lighter from a small table placed on the floor by the wall and igniting it.

The next few hours were occupied with tales and explanations, but it was nothing the three veterans hadn't already known. Hacker, the brilliant mind he was, had both discovered and reverse-engineered a mental "link" between each and every member of the McJeezi Syndicate, activated and deactivated just like a regular COM but without a traceable flaw. McJesus made accounts of his week-long journey, the three additional days that had been mysteriously added, Balto's plans, the terrorist actions of Ghost's army, the victory and defeat of Illidon, and the inevitable riots of Brawl and the universal effects it would stress upon the White Void. It was a bitter job, but being holy seemed to oblige him toward the effort.

That didn't excuse the unnecessary resurrections and the pain that had continuously piled up on him until at last his body gave out, even if his mind had relentlessly continued its onslaught. But Four Arms, naturally cool and sweat-less, only pushed a thick cloud of almost arsenic smoke from his mouth. Hacker seemed diligently involved in munching on how cigarette, but absorbed the retold story regardless. The five hadn't talked in months to begin with.

"Do you know what's happened to Balto?" Whisper whispered, telepathically over the "McJeezi Chat", to McJesus, who shook his head.

"That's just it. I can't contact anyone. They would instantly lock onto and track me from any electronic devices I came in contact with," he bent his head down and pointed to his neck, exposing a small block lodged in his spinal area, "And if I leave the Cavern, they can track me regardless.

"So you went out, alone, into this hellhole for over three days?" Blue asked, receiving a curt nod, "You are BATSHIT, you know that?"

McJesus smiled, "Well, what the heck were you guys doing out here?"

"Hey-" Four Arms answered before Hacker could reply, "We figured: If we're gonna get set up the bomb, we're gonna do it epicly."

"Twenty-five cigarettes and that's all you can say. You are getting pretty old for a dead guy, 2x4."

"Old enough I can still kick you-"

"You two, quiet. D'you hear that?" Whisper whispered mentally, alerting them all to the sound of chirping outside of the tow van. The void hushed with them, but McJesus, mind grounded in laws of what to expect, ordered them all to flee, and they did so out of respect and faith in him.

When all five bailed out of the van, light rayed across McJesus's back. A yellow, sharp arrow had criscrossed around him, missing and striking Blue through the arm. The ox-class van Four Arms had driven them in was now in flames, two silhouettes standing behind the curtain of flames like theater puppets. The McJeezi concentrated, Blue with his one available arm, but were all stunned to see the puppets drop face-first into the flames, vanishing and presumable incinerated.

"Look out!"

A boulder the size of a tire smacked into Four Arms, two of his arms crushed under the boulder's girth but the other two snatched it from it's travel and caught it, dropping it on the void with a thud. The group, caring little or less of who it was, focused a five-bolted explosion in the boulder's previous direction, blowing up a field of white that changed color from blue, to red, yellow, coal, and gray every few seconds. McJesus squinted, spotting the boulder's hurler: Sheepshifter Blue.

"I thought he was dead!" Blue cried, ignored by his teammates who dashed forward, propelled forward by their own harmless, miniature explosion leaps.

Sheepshifter ran on his own stamina, adrenaline racing through his arms as his first target: Four Arms, came into view. With one swing of his arm, a direct smack to the face, the four-limbed warmonger shot out of the smoke clouds, followed by McJesus and Blue, batted away like tumbleweeds by a strong wind.

Blue lunged, making the void tremble under him as he summoned a great arc of energy from the ground. As he commanded, blue lightning pierced upward from Sheepshifter's legs, severing the two halves of his corpse as it raised at a lightning speed into an arch before collapsing on top of him. McJesus sprinted towards Sheepshifter's corpse, a sizzling, needle-wrapped laser carved up the Sheepshifter's body once and for all.

"No resurrections, today, friend." he murmured, "Hope to see you soon."

"Still a bit harsh, I mean, he was one of our grudge matches, remember?" said Blue, teeth jumping up and down.

"You don't understand. There may be five of us now, but these Brawlers, they're not NORMAL anymore. Something is brining them back, I don't know what, but we have to destroy the bodies. Think of it as our own brand of salvation. If HE had gotten up, he'd be nothing above the common beast, bound to get up again and experience the same pain if we let him be."

"Knowing Sheep, he'd be dogging us every six minutes." Hacker said woefully, shaking his head disappointedly.

"Well, what do you want us to do?"

"Whisper, I want you to divert your spiritual energy towards full-scale battle monitoring. We don't want any surprises on our way to Hell..."

"What!?" gasped palish Blue and apprehensive Hacker.

"Yeah, I don't know what it is, but all throughout my escape from Brawl to where we stand, I've been having this....this ongoing, day-by-day nightmare. And each time it happens, I see Illidon. Look, I know it sounds crazy but..."

The McJeezi listened in, all except for silent Whisper who merely batted an open eye towards McJesus as he whispered.

"I think he's still alive. Our mission, MadVideoGamer, RabiesIsMe. Everything was for nothing at all."

ooo

From beyond the v-carved meadow, contrast toward the dark pigment of the abnormal sky, a black figure rose over the clouds, staring with an evil, sarcastic presence hovering over the five targets he had been assigned. Balto was clear, SMASH and FINISH.

John didn't bother gulp, and with a startling display of fearlessness or simply his very lack of choice in the matter, he tipped forward, letting gravity carry himself downward, until he had vanished completely off the face of the plateau. What could have been exampled as a fierce cackle, was in truth, a mild sense of thrill not from what he was about to do, but from what his darker half was about to do FOR him.

[McJesus]

Am I the only one who reads this?

[The Omnipresence]

Nov 27, 2008 1:19:51 GMT -5 McJesus said:

Am I the only one who reads this?

I read a few chapters a while back, but I have to re-read them because I forgot what was going on.

[ghost]

Hey guys. Its me, Ghost. !!!

First, I'd just like to hand out some cake. Some delicious cake. Just made it this morning. Its sweet and chewy and cakey and its made of all those sugary ingredients all of us fatties love. Yeah, good cake...

So you remember that story I was writing about McJesus? The one that, before I left temporarily, I said was coming soon? Well, I'm still writing it out, redid most of what I started. And guess what? Firefox-Brawl tab decided to be stupid and decided to X out while I was typing due to a "Problem that required Firefox to close".

So I've got some of my original stuff and what not, and its hitting me, why not join in all the fun others seem to be having and invite someone else into the Garden of Madness? I only want one of you...^\/\/\/^ ;D

An artist to draw about...THREE pictures to help narrate/visualize the action of the story. These pictures need to be precise, however, and I'll PM you the story section accordingly to design.

Hmm...you don't have to be all godlike. I just need someone who's productive. Like, in a month's time when I need you, you won't say "oh yeah sorry I dont really like drawing anymore". But I want someone who is at least on my level or drawing, if not better, maybe about Grent-level.

In actuality, I really only want 3 pictures. One for the opening, with McJesus over Illidon, one for the middle, showcasing the battle between McJ and Brawlers, and one for the ending, which I will not reveal but I hope is inconceivably epic.

Or perhaps no one is interested, and I'll shirk away like a sad clown into a banana cream pie...