The bright roar of the sky echoed across the barren landscape as I squinted in the morning sun. My head felt heavy and it ached to be allowed to fall to the rustic dirt below, but something compelled me to keep going. Every step was a struggle to continue. My skin was blasted with heat, pain rippling across my body as the sun beat down upon me. No, suns. Thousands of glowing orbs scattered across a crimson sky, like a hellish spider come to life in the heavens. I stopped, dropping to my knees in anguish when I realized what I should have hours before I heard nothing I’m not deaf, least last time I checked, I wasn't deaf, but my hearing was gone. Destroyed by some unseen chaotic attack, having stolen both my hearing and scorched this landscape? Possibly but doubtful, this place seemed to be older than that. As if whatever made it that way was long gone, passed into legends and then nothingness as the society fell as all do. I snapped my fingers by my ears to test the
I had first met Dylan about 20 years ago after the government finally got the go-ahead to give the big middle finger to the various mystery men who were still left hanging around from the second hero boom back after the war. It had been a rainy day but honestly back then every day was a rainy day. Later someone would say it was something to do with mood or some other useless storyist junk that Dylan would spout like that. Never gave that stuff my good fourteen cents if you ask me. Life may be weird but it isn't a damn story and if it is, it needs a better writer because the current guy is getting on my nerves. Sorry bout that, bit of a ramble there. So yeah, there I was, a normal June night in the 1980s, in some desolate bar, drinking away my sorrow over some old dead pal or some old fled gal or something like that, watching the latest stuff being blasted at us on the screens floating above the counter. Your various government mercenary groups and imported robot soldiers or
Where Everybody Knows Your Name... by gambit508, literature
Literature
Where Everybody Knows Your Name...
"Give me whatever you have that's strong." The bartender glanced at the figure who just sat down. He seemed to come from another time, with an odd western getup, though the scraggy face hidden beneath his long white hair convinced the bartender to not ask many questions, and to just give the man his drink. The cowboy nodded his thanks before taking a swig of the alcohol.
"Another year, old-timer." said the other figure sitting at the bar. The second figure turned towards the cowboy, revealing a face marked by severe burn scars. His long black hair was tied away from his face, but that only served to highlight his disfigurement. "It
The Stranger And The Bartender by gambit508, literature
Literature
The Stranger And The Bartender
The man walked into the bottom level of the bar with the swagger of a man who planned to drink heavily and perhaps even more than that. He was tall, with long black hair that matched the dark leather clothes he wore. The rusted metal floor groaned with each heavy step he took. His right arm caught the light, the metal of a cybernetic replacement shining in the sun peeking in through the windows. Various people on both levels watched him cautiously, unsure whether he was as safe to ignore as he seemed at first glance. Eyes followed him across the room, as he sat down at the bar. Tapping two metal fingers on the counter, he looked up
The street smelt like shit.
It always smelt like shit.
It smelt like shit when the road was formed by the chariots of Rothesians in the 900s
It smells like shit now in the year 2755.
Roy wasn't sure why, but he could never get over the smell of Trash Street. The damn thing was actually called Trass Street, after some old ass general from the civil war, but the street's location next to the city landfill meant that some enterprising jokesters had long since changed the signs to be more...appropriate.
He grunted as he lit a cigarette, illuminating, if just for a second or two, his companions. Arthur "The Ferret" Barton, a man with the fa
For Those Who Are About To Die by gambit508, literature
Literature
For Those Who Are About To Die
"I don't think I can do this".
Avilus slowly opened his eyes as he glanced across the way. Faelan looked back, fearful. The Northerner was new to the pits, but even first-time jitters were never this bad. Avilus stood, as much as he could in the lifts both were trapped in. The brand on his back ached as his muscles rippled with his movements. The cold air of the underground pits stung the many scars that littered his bare back and legs. Modesty was not a thought given to a fighter. They were only meant for amusement. Already he could hear the crowd above them roaring in anticipation.
Fuck the crowd
Faelan was skinny and pale, alm
So as I said I’m working on a Smash fic, but here’s the basic plot description first
A WAVE PASSES THROUGH THE LANDS OF THE MULTIVERSE AS HERO AND VILLAIN ALIKE ARE BROUGHT TO A MYSTERIOUS LAND, BOTH FAMILIAR AND STRANGE
Ok basically the Hands have summoned all the Smashers to another world that resembles a fusion of all of their homes for a dark purpose
We’re only talking actual fighters here, no assist trophies, no bosses, just Smashers.
Non-canon with the actual Smash stories
Mario and Dr Mario, plus Samus and Zero Suit Samus, are one person. Zelda and Sheik are not
All Koopalings, Alph, and all four Heroes will m
Indigo Saga Chapter Three by gambit508, literature
Literature
Indigo Saga Chapter Three
August 20th, 1974
Viridian Forest, Kanto
The Viridian Forest has been a place of much lore and legend over the centuries since Kanto's founding. Tales were commonly told to children from Viridian and Pallet of fearsome beasts and strange tribes that still live in the forest to this day. Some older citizens claim the forest itself even rose from its roots and fought in ancient wars. However, most recognize this for simple fallacy, a way to keep children from wandering in without proper protection. Most trainers don't fear the forest.
Red Satoshi was not most trainers.
"When will this end?" he cried, glancing back and forth as he slowly mad
August 18th, 1974
Oak Laboratories, Pallet Town, Kanto
The lab was dark and abandoned, most of the aides having gone home for the night. A single flashing light echoed from an upstairs window, as she cursed her luck. Her sources had told her Oak took long hours, but it was already well past midnight. She shifted her weight on the roof from which she had been watching the lab that night, the slanted shingles providing just enough grip to keep her from falling to her death.
The light finally clicked off and a few moments later Oak walked out the front door, locking it and lazily moping his way down the road. She continued her watch of him fo