[Hey there, every-every. This is a story originally posted over at Kirby's Rainbow Resort. Gobbs and I, as you may or may not know, are huge Kirby marks to levels you may not ever fully realize or appreciate. I made an IAS over at their forums a while ago, but I figured "Hey, stories that only Bimblesnaff and I add to are only supposed to be at RE~!"
This story thusly appears in its entirity, ported over from its original location. Well, sans some stupidity of not knowing an IAS was different than an RP despite explaining such with my first post. Yeah, as you can tell, not quite the crowd we mix well with.
If MG or I ever add to the story over there, we'll duplicate said post here, even in a splinter should anyone else want to jump in on this action. If someone besides us adds to it over there? More doubtful than someone adding to it here at RE!
This story is devoid of the No Fan Fiction rule at the REWS since the Dream Land series will very shortly have something to do with RE. Yeah, I've been working on a Kirby fan game. What else did you think I was doing with all of my time?
So sit back and get ready to not understand a lot of jokes! They mostly have to do with fanboys and how stupid they are -- same jokes as other RE story, but with Kirby clichés as opposed to regular fantasy ones.]
"So, like I was saying," rambled on the obnoxious co-worker who wasn't working, "YouTube MySpace text message American Idol. That's a good one! Hahaha!" He quit listening to himself long enough to look down to his fellow employee, desperately reaching for the second shelf of the supply cabinet. "Hey Gabe, y'know you sorta look like a li'l egg-shaped alien creature?"
Gabe's beady eyes shifted from side to side. He ceased his eternal quest for paper clips long enough to loosen the tie which divided his yellow and blue hemispheres. "I, um, have a cold."
"Oh, yeah, I think I heard about that one," the man continued to drone. "I made a vlog about it, and then I blogged about the vlog. It was tee-ight! Know what I'm sayin', ham bone?"
"... Not really," the small one slowly and confusedly responded.
It was horrible to have a day job, but it was necessary for him -- not because Gabe needed the secret identity or was aided in any way by his occupation, no. He needed to work to make ends meet; he was only on the reserve unit. The most action he ever saw was when Angela from human resources wore that top. Of course, being a Dream Lander, it should be noted that Gabe's idea of beauty fit less of our earthly mold and more of one for pudding.
Later that evening, Gabe waddled in a hurry to the Butter Building Apartments, struggling to balance the bucket containing his dinner which would probably end up his sponge roommate's. As soon as Gabe opened the door to his apartment, he was attacked by an army of stale, putrified air. Knuckles Joe was molded into a filthy, crumb-covered chair in front of the television, and his mind was lost entirely within it. A stained wife-beater struggled to stretch around his lumpy, torso-stomach-thigh-potato combination of a body.
"Joe!" Gabe scolded the small part of his roommate which was paying attention. "Have you moved all day?"
"I took a whiz," the former fighter gurgled. "Does that count?"
"As long as you left your chair, I guess."
"Oh," Joe added quietly -- loud enough to be heard over the blaring, flickering box, but Gabe still pretended he didn't.
"You really need to get a job," the breadwinner continued to berate, flapping his non-existant limbs to find some fresh air for his face, "or at least some deodorant."
"Are the French the ones who think that body odor is sexy?" the waste of flesh burped.
"I think so."
"Then I'm French."
Gabe sent a harsh stare to his newly French "friend" -- a glare interrupted only by his tie as he slipped it over his narrow head. The intimidation went largely unnoticed, however. "Hey, where'd my chicken g-" began Gabe until he realized. "Joe! How'd you even get my dinner without leaving your seat?"
"I have my ways." Unfortunately, he possessed no such methods for his bodily functions.
"You dough-shaped, fat freak!" Gabe boiled over.
"Don't mock me!" whined the face-stuffing fighter as he flailed greasy fingers before him in an attempt to hide his growing shame. "I wasn't always like this! I useta be beautiful; I useta be loved!"
"No you weren't. You just told that to girls over the internet."
"If stuff over the internet didn't count as 'real', then my life would be far too sad to continue on!"
A shrill beep pierced the air. Gabe was caught off guard; this had never happened to him before. He fumbled with his red, flashing watch to try to find a way to silence the alarm.
"There's trouble!" the eggy creature declared with a little too much joy, "and they need us! You comin' with?"
"Really?" Joe spoke staggering to his laptop along with his typing. "I'm sixteen number two, L-O-L."
"Guess that's my answer," Gabe shrugged off. And so alone, he declared: "It's non-copyright infringing Changin' Time!" With bone club already in hand -- and nearly used on his roommate until the siren sounded -- the Dream Lander held aloft his weapon and summoned a very spiffy special effect. A skull helm appeared over his little yellow top, completing Gabon's arsenal. With a single press of his watch, a Warp Star shot out and grew large enough to carry its lone passenger to the secret mountain base.
An impressive band of warriors had been assembled in the dark chamber, but not Star Warriors. That would just be lame. They were surrounded by walls of complicated machines, but mostly old microwaves since they looked impressive and took up a lot of space. Plus, popcorn is tasty. A mist swirled in the ominous glass cylinder that the warriors surrounded. A large, unblinking eye opened from out the vapors and examined the force it had assembled.
"So, Kracko," began Gabon, "still stuck in that tube?"
"No, I am not stuck," their boss insisted. "I am just looking for that cake still... after five weeks."
"There is no cake, Kracko. Starman just played a trick on you."
"Shut up! No he did not! I'm smarter than that."
"Then get out of that tube!"
"I can, I just... like it in here." The cyclops shifted its gaze from side to side until it remembered why it had summoned them all here. "Warriors!" it thundered. "A horrible evil has come to Earth! I have summoned you to stop it!"
"Who is it? Dark Matter? Marx?" Star Dan jumped to conclusions. "Dark Marxer?"
"Meta Mirror Dark Marxer?" Droppy elaborated. "Senior?"
"No!" Kracko rumbled. "It is none other than King Meta Mirror Dark Marxer², Sr."
"With a name that long, he must be powerful," the Starman surmised, "or have a hard time fitting its name on business cards -- evil business cards. Either way, he's probably angry."
"Indeed he is," affirmed their nimbus leader. "So angry, in fact, that he plans on unleashing the Kirby Kloner! It's ill effects can already been seen on the Rainbow Resort. Behold this artist conception!" it boomed and then navigated to any page on the forums.
"Egads!" the ability-thief was horrified. "Why do they all have spikey hair and scars over their eyes?"
"Yes, it is a horrible sight which must be prevented at any cost. You are the best we have, so it is up to you to stop him!"
"Waitaminute," realized the skull warrior as he looked over the present company, "only us? But, we all suck! None of us are ever picked as helpers! And Mikarin over there isn't even a fighter!"
"I'm riding a riceball!" the tangerine innocently squeaked.
"You sure are," Kracko quickly confirmed. "Okay, you are the best we have available."
"You've got that right!" Bukiset asserted from the corner, polishing his fine edge. "I mean, Droppy just ate Kagamimocchi!"
"If he didn't want to be eaten, then why was he food?" the pudgy, pointy Droppy defended, spewing out pieces of rice in the process.
"Are you certain no one else can take on this mission?" Gabe inquired while moving Mikarin away from hungry jaws. "I'd like to get a mission as much as the next guy, but we just aren't cut out for this." After placing little Mika atop the snowy mass of Yuki and thinking for a moment, the bone-thrower threw out an idea. "What about Kirby?" Never said it was all that inspired of an idea.
"It would not be wise to utilize Kirby for a mission against an army of his own clones; he could easily be mistaken as an enemy," reasoned the rainmaker, which is the first thing to make sense in this entire story, "and apparently, he has a slight problem with slaughtering soulless copies of his own image and his own mortality or some wussy B.S. like that. Besides, Kirby currently has a, um, personal mission right now." The cream-puff had recently discovered that all that stuff he eats has to come out eventually.
"Well, what about Meta Knight?" Droppy inquired and was soon reduced to a smoldering pile of ash by a lightning strike from the flying eye.
"Next one to mention Meta Knight gets it worse," the boss threatened.
"What could be worse than that?" asked Bukiset, who was soon zapped by a precision beam into two halves which cauterized to make his agony and eventual death all that much slower.
"Any other questions?" Kracko again threatened his remaining warriors.
"Where do babies come from?" squealed Mikarin from atop her new, chilly home.
"Uh, storks, which come from other storks that are cut up into tiny bits," the lightning-quick cloud again answered. "Now, in order to stop KMMDM², Sr., you will need to collect the seven magical Aurora Cookies!"
"'Aurora Cookies'?" the skeletal fighter protested. "That's a horrible name for a secret, collectible item! What? Do you have a Mad Libs in there or something?"
"Um, no." Technically, this was true; they were generic. "What the hell is a 'vorb'?" Before any further questions could be asked about Aurora Cookies or storks or vorbs, flashing lights filled the entire base. "The city is under attack! Warriors, behold the Viewing Viewer!" commanded Kracko, directing all present's eyes to a lowly monitor covered in plastic wrap and tin foil. "Now, if it were working, you would be able to see the world's plight, but instead, you'll just have to use your imagination."
"I'm closing my eyes," giggled little Mika, "and thinkin' 'bout bunnies!"
"Fantastic," Kracko quickly dismissed before resuming. "Now, as you can clearly not see, the city is in peril. There are fires and sirens and who knows? Maybe a giant monster is crushing a building!"
"Oh no! Watch out, building!" Jumping Dan yelled to the blank screen.
"Don't be ridiculous," Gabon huffed with an air of disgust. "They can't hear you."
"What's this? Godzilla is coming!" The cloud then did its best to imitate the famous growls. "'Rawr! Rawr!'"
"I like Gigan," revealed the Yuki. "I vant Gigan to be dere."
"What? No! It is just Godzill-"
"I like Gigan, too," admitted Starman next.
"I like ice cream!" squealed Mika, who clearly missed the point.
"Okay, fine, Gigan's there, too, and-"
"Does he have ice cream?"
"Yes he has ice cream, and he gets defeated like he always does, and Godzilla eats his ice cream. Happy now?"
"No," pouted the sad citrus fruit, "'cause you're mean."
Slowly, the base door lifted open. Those who survived the briefing now had a chance to survive the mission itself. Gabon, Starman, Yuki, and Mikarin should have been rushing to save the city from its unknown danger, but right now, they had far more pressing concerns. The group crawled forward, believing themselves quiet enough. However, they underestimated just how alert having nothing better to do could make someone.
"hey guys," abruptly drolled Kine from a pool beside the base. A universal groan was let out when the group realized they had been discovered. "whatcha doin'? goin' on a mission?"
"Uh, yeah Kine," the masked one conceded, rubbing the back of his skull with his club in the awkwardness of the situation, "we were given a miss-"
"is there gonna be any water?"
"Well, yeah, they'll be-"
"are there gonna be any strong currents?" Kine cut-off slowly in his quiet, dopey voice.
"Um, we probably won't be in the water," Gabon unfortunately filled the fish in. "Y'know, we'll probably just walk around it... with our legs."
"oh," huffed the animal friend in a tone more depressed than usual, "i understand." And before it could breath another word, it inhaled the Starman and shut its fishy lips tight.
"C'mon, man! That's not cool!" admonished the bone fighter. "Spit him out right now!"
"mm mm! mm mm!" the sunfish mumbled without ever opening its mouth. "now you haff to take me wiff you!"
"Okay! Fine, you can come," Gabe admitted defeated. "Just spit him out now!"
"mm mm! mm mm!" Kine again refused. "you'll just leaff me behind if i do! i'm keepin' him!"
"What? You can't keep him in there! His powers will be worthless," the skull warrior informed. Starman tried to find a way out of his pet prison, jumping as much as he could inside of the giant. However, all he could manage to do is hurl Kine from the water and turn him over from side to side. "Oh, c'mon! That's sad! He can't even jump anymore! He's just Floppin' Dan now!"
"ha!" mocked the aquatic ally/adversary, "how does it feel to be the worffless one?" When he realized just what he had said, Kine sank further into the depths of depression.
"Ve must get da moving on," told the often forgot-about snowman. His watch, which was of little use to the armless mound, bubbled out of its fluffy mass and called forth starry chariots for the group. "Dere is troubles in da city!"
"You're right, Yuki," Gabon stopped quarreling with Kine long enough to admit, "but... where exactly is the trouble? I don't see Godzilla anywhere?"