The Kirby universe proves to be no Dream Land for this cast of misfit characters. Rejects such as Kine, Jumpin' Dan, Gabon, and Blopper try to prove they can be heroes, too. Do they succeed? Would it be funny if they did?
Join in on the rare-for-RE fan-fiction madness as these lovable losers leave nothing sacred!
It looked like any other ordinary, uneventful day. It was the early stages of autumn, and the sun was beginning to set into the early stages of the afternoon on a clear, lightly clouded blue sky. People were running their daily errands, or finishing up their work, or milling around, or doing whatever they normally did at that time of day. Cars were honking, children were playing, and birds were chirping. Human modern-day society was operating as usual.
The Emperor is holding a tournament to find the strongest fighter in the world. However, there is more to this simple spectacle and its participants than it would seem...
High Time is an action-packed adventure full of unique characters and intense battle sequences with an underlying and deeply seeded plot connecting the combatants in ways they do not yet fully understand.
The old soldier wound his way through the streets of the town, his sinuous, Eastern dragon familiar following in his footsteps. Everywhere were the signs of a long, hard winter; sodden paths, waterlogged houses and still-white snowdrifts. Here and there, patches of grass, flowers and other growing things struggled to reclaim their world from the grasp of the cold season. The adventurer sniffed. He loved the cold, for some unknown reason it sustained him, and the signs of a coming spring always turned his mood sour.
In the distant future, after a war which many thought would be the end of all life, humanity survives in isolated cities scattered throughout the world. The largest of these cities is under constant strife by rival factions, vying for power. Falken, a lone biker, has become caught in the struggle...
Kyle looked out in the distance towards his destination. A coliseum-like structure towered into the air in front of him. It was there that the tournament celebrating the King’s birthday would be held. The simple shepherd closed his eyes in deep thought. Word had already spread around that strong competitors had entered the tournament. It would be no easy feat to beat any of them, even for a chance of winning the whole thing.
Dust swirled up from the ground to join its airborne brethren that clouded the air like early-morning fog in San Francisco as I slowly walked through the slag and rubble. In the absolute silence, each footstep was like a marching army and the rasp of my breath as I attempted separate oxygen from the venerable dirt that passed for air seemed as though it could drown out a war. In truth I was grateful for even these small respites; as anyone who has experienced both can tell you, a complete lack of sound is far more deafening, far more unnerving than the most heinous sounds of battle. It's not fear so much as an unidentifiable disturbance, a feeling that something around you is very, very wrong. Although it was, by my best estimate, mid-afternoon, the little light that filtered its way through to the surface had more of an overcast, late evening quality. Omaha, Nebraska. A thoroughly depressing place on the best of days.
"We interrupt our regularly scheduled program to bring you this breaking report. We take you now to Cliff Danielson."
"Tragedy struck today in ways that no one ever expected to actually happen. Officials believed it to be a seasonal hoax, despite the flood of calls received on the matter. Now, it is known to be true. Ladies and gentlemen, we are being attacked... by the living dead. Hordes of decomposed bodies have risen from their graves and now walk among us, attacking the living to, yes, feast on their brains. We would like to remind our viewers that his is not a joke in any way, nor is it a themed, fictional program. This is real. We advise all of our viewers at home to stay there. Do not attempt to leave to find safer grounds. Officials are dealing with the situation. We take you now to the front of the epid-di-di-dimic with-ith-th-th-..." The broadcast broke to a nearly black screen, but faint outlines of a figure could be seen in the shadows.