The forces of ACROSS and ANVIL had met, the battle had been joined. Really cool explosives had gone off the likes of which could impress even John Woo.
It had taken Quincy, Beast Boy, Starfire and Superboy their combined strengths to best Lord Il Palazo. Princess Powerful had succumbed to fatigue after besting Elgala. Sokka and Zim were evenly matched in that both of them really should never have held pointy objects in the first place.
That left only Excel and Impulse standing.
"You don't hafta do this!" Bart pleaded, thinking of all the times they shared. Thinking how nice she could be when she wasn't traumatizing him. "We can work this out!"
"We can work it out when you're in the reeducation camps!" Excel shouted, loading up her bazooka. "If you make it that far."
"But school is boring!"
"FIRE ZE MISSILES!"
Impulse, caught off guard debating whether death by missiles or multiple pop quizzes could be a worse death, was propelled across the lake. It made him kinda sad to think about how things came to this, and he wasn't the type to angst. He did that for a while, reliving his death over and over again in his mind like a CLAMP issue, but then he realized the reruns got boring and he had to move on.
"I'll stop you, Excel! If it's the last thing I do!" Bart shouted, wondering what would Flash do. What would Superman do. What would any hero who was popular enough to get their own title with the neat logo print do in a situation like this.
Oh yeah, dramatize.
"EXCEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLL!"
"BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRT!" Excel returned as in character. Avoiding the fact it sounded more Homer Simpson than heart-wrenching, it was a step up.
"EXCEEEEEEEEEELLL!"
"BAAAAAAAAAARRT!"
Twenty minutes later...
His lungs had given out. A small cough was all he could manage before collapsing on his knees. Bart Allen, the superhero known as Impulse had given his all and looked on to see if had been enough.
Excel was just as staggered. Her tongue had rolled out from overuse and it was all she could do to take her emergency flare/marker and write down on a piece of cardboard ruin:
"Same time next week?"
Bart gave a thumbs up. Near apocalyptic stages were a lot more fun if they were unfinished. Because if CLAMP taught them anything it was to leave the reader hanging...
no subject
It had taken Quincy, Beast Boy, Starfire and Superboy their combined strengths to best Lord Il Palazo. Princess Powerful had succumbed to fatigue after besting Elgala. Sokka and Zim were evenly matched in that both of them really should never have held pointy objects in the first place.
That left only Excel and Impulse standing.
"You don't hafta do this!" Bart pleaded, thinking of all the times they shared. Thinking how nice she could be when she wasn't traumatizing him. "We can work this out!"
"We can work it out when you're in the reeducation camps!" Excel shouted, loading up her bazooka. "If you make it that far."
"But school is boring!"
"FIRE ZE MISSILES!"
Impulse, caught off guard debating whether death by missiles or multiple pop quizzes could be a worse death, was propelled across the lake. It made him kinda sad to think about how things came to this, and he wasn't the type to angst. He did that for a while, reliving his death over and over again in his mind like a CLAMP issue, but then he realized the reruns got boring and he had to move on.
"I'll stop you, Excel! If it's the last thing I do!" Bart shouted, wondering what would Flash do. What would Superman do. What would any hero who was popular enough to get their own title with the neat logo print do in a situation like this.
Oh yeah, dramatize.
"EXCEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLL!"
"BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRT!" Excel returned as in character. Avoiding the fact it sounded more Homer Simpson than heart-wrenching, it was a step up.
"EXCEEEEEEEEEELLL!"
"BAAAAAAAAAARRT!"
Twenty minutes later...
His lungs had given out. A small cough was all he could manage before collapsing on his knees. Bart Allen, the superhero known as Impulse had given his all and looked on to see if had been enough.
Excel was just as staggered. Her tongue had rolled out from overuse and it was all she could do to take her emergency flare/marker and write down on a piece of cardboard ruin:
"Same time next week?"
Bart gave a thumbs up. Near apocalyptic stages were a lot more fun if they were unfinished. Because if CLAMP taught them anything it was to leave the reader hanging...