Dimensional Clash

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Jaysunn

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The Omniverse.

A staggering array of possibilities.

The aggregate of all creation, governed by those who have the power to create, or destroy.

When a particular idea grows enough in power--love, death, lust, hatred--it manifests itself in the furthest reaches of reality as a deity.

Each one struggles for supremacy with their spheres of control; feeding off their essence to widen their influence and raise their power.

Some of these powerful beings arrange tournaments for their own amusement, tearing individuals from worlds and placing them in different settings. Some do this to jest, some to compare the interdimensional levels of wit and strength, and some...

Some of these deities have higher motives in clashing the dimensions.

The Omniverse is a delicate balance between creation and destruction, Ma'at and chaos. When this balance is disrupted...
 
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Toad


Toad twiddled his thumbs as he waited for his water.

The saloon bustled with rough cowboys, frilled ladies, and some pretty nasty-lookin' folks. A man played ragtime music on an old, out-of-tune upright piano. Toad thought he saw a rattlesnake slither between the rotting floorboards. He wiped the sweat off his brow.

The bartender slid Toad the glass. Upon inspection, Toad found it to be dirty.

Almost as dirty as the looks those thugs were giving him. Toad had no idea why those guys had beef with him; after all, all the mushroom retainer had remembered was falling down the stairs and landing in the closet in this saloon.

"Excuse me," Toad said, rather timidly. He waved for the bartender. "Er, those guys are giving me a funny look. Is that normal?"

"Well," the bartender replied, "water is pretty hard to come by in these parts, ever since the river was dammed up."

"Ah, I see. So they think I'm gonna drink up all their water? Geez."

Toad took a drink and eyed those thugs. One of them placed a pistol on the wooden table. Toad gulped and finished his drink, before depositing some Mushroom Kingdom coins on the bar.

He tried not to make eye contact with the thugs, but he could feel their eyes drilling into him. Toad decided not to press matters and quickly hopped out the saloon doors.

Toad breathed a sigh of relief and looked around. "Well," he said. "This sure isn't the Mushroom Kingdom."

Indeed, far from it. Normally, in the arid areas of the Mushroom Kingdom, Shy Guys made most of the population. Here, it was all humans. Toad felt short and out of place. He tugged on the gold trim of his blue vest and began to walk.

He felt as if he were on stage about to give a speech. People turned their eyes towards the meek mushroom midget, watching him as he slowly shrank into the collar of his vest. Toad's head had practically sunken into his neck when he heard a sharp yell like a knife on a blackboard.

"You've got a lotta nerve, drinkin' up all our water in these parts."

Toad groaned. It was probably the guys that were giving him the stink eye back at the saloon. "Alright, I know your name's probably 'One-eyed Pete' or something. Just skip to the part where you challenge me to a shootout at high noon," he said, trying to hide his fear as the biggest of the group approached him. Of the five thugs, this guy intimidated Toad the most. His black garb and spurred leather boots helped none, either.

"Y'ain't heard?" the leader growled, picking up Toad by the collar. Toad gulped. "Black Johnson's dammed up this here town's water supply. And I ain't gonna have some low-lived fungus parch out the entire population.

Toad could smell whiskey on the guy's breath. He noted a glinting star pinned to the man's chest. "Geez, who decided to make you sheriff, anyway? You've got the foulest attitude I've ever--Gack!"

Toad found himself flung to the dust on the ground. He spat out a gob of dirt.

"Yer' talkin' to Mister Sheriff Hanson," the sheriff grumbled, leering down upon Toad. "Times ain't good, mushroom boy. Folks like you, takin' the water for granted... That's what's gonna dry out this dirty gulch within a week."

"Look, Mister Sheriff," Toad stammered. "Hey, I didn't mean no offense. Where I come from, water's pretty much all over the place."

"And it used to be that way here as well," Hanson muttered, "'til Black Johnson blocked up the creek for his own cronies. Who knows what he's doing with that water."

"Alright, let me make a pitch to you," Toad offered. "I'll go check out the dam. See what's going on, see what Mr. Black Johnson's doing with that drinking water."

Sheriff Hanson snorted. "Or die trying. Look, Johnson's got his buddies holed up around the dam. They're gonna shoot anyone who gets too close."

"I'd like to see them try," Toad retorted. He crossed his arms and blinked. Then he continued. "Er, do any of you know where the dam actually is?"

The sheriff snorted again. "Look. I'll show you the dam. It's a lost cause. All we can do now is ration out the water 'til the next stagecoach drives by."

"Stagecoach?" Toad inquired. "You guys don't have trains?"

"They keep tellin' us they're gonna build a rail line across these parts," piped up a skinny man behind the sheriff, "but I think they're lyin'. I'm pretty sure the Union Pacific's been twistin' and turnin' the tracks all 'round the Midwest just to pick up the grant money."

"Geez, you guys have sucky lives," Toad said.

"What does that mean?"

"Er, it means that you have it bad."

"We have it horrible!" the sheriff roared, causing his entourage to back up a bit.

"Alright, calm down, Mister Sheriff. Just drag me over to the dam and let's see if I can't fix up your water problem. I might've picked up a thing or two from my pal Mario."

The sheriff sighed and grabbed Toad by the collar again, before slinging him onto the back of his horse. "Hang on tight if you don't wanna eat the dirt," he muttered, before yelling "HIYAH!" and slapping the reins. The horse whinnied and galloped behind the general store, following the etched pathways of the dried riverbed.
 
Sun. Dryness. Pain.

That was what Shepard got as he woke up, memories still fresh. Was everyone alright? Did he succeed?

He had to find answers. He opened his eyes slowly, quickly (but painfully) shielding his eyes from the blinding sun. Where was he anyway?

Very slowly, he got up, observed around. Nowhere familiar. No trace of any destruction of any sorts. Did he die? Was Ashley right - was there an afterlife? If there was, this wasn't quite pleasant. Still aching, he started limping towards a nearby town, still in his tattered Alliance navy garb, clutching his side. He needed answers.
 
Kate

"Thank you! Thank you! I'll be here all day," Kate Wetherall said, taking a bow. The tall-for-her-age thirteen-year-old lifted her arm and her peregrine falcon, Madge (short for Her Majesty the Queen, by the way) alighted on the falconer's glove Kate had put out for her. Not like I have much else to do, she thought, rolling her ocean-blue eyes. The crowd around her began to disperse.

The sun beat down upon her. Sweat soaked her white-and-red striped shirt. She wasn't sure if people were looking at her or her jeans. During the mid-19th century, gold prospectors and those types of folks wore blue jeans. Women usually didn't.

The 1800's, right? That's what Kate could gather. She'd zone out if she was being told about derivatives or integrals (many a conversation with her friend Sticky Washington has been cut off because of this), but Kate wasn't stupid. Far from it, actually. She was rather ingenious when it came to practical matters. Heck, she clipped a red metal bucket to her belt loop.

That red bucket sat in the dirt right in front of her, filled with Kate's various utility items (along with a handful of coins Kate got from her falconer's routine). At the bottom coiled a nylon rope, topped with marbles, a pen and paper, a slingshot, her Swiss Army Knife...

Kate pulled a handkerchief from her bucket and wiped off her brow. She could feel the oppressive heat. Kate picked up her bucket and sat down on the general store's porch. A sign creaked as it swung lazily in the wind.

Not all weather's good for Wetherall, Kate mused, hunching over her thighs, holding her bucket underneath her legs. Her sneakers had a dusty encrustation of the town's dirt. She could vaguely make out a couple of weeds under the porch.

Kate sighed. She had a soaked shirt, a dry throat, and no idea how she got to some hick-town in the 1860's or whenever.
 
Bowser

"GRARRGH! BLARRGHALBARRGH! BLAGHABLAH!"

Bowser roared and jumped out of the water. Who dares dump the Koopa King into a lake?

Who dares dump the Koopa King in general? Bowser had no idea where he was. He shook the water off his scaly hide and looked around, seeing nothing but rifles pointed at his muzzle. Bowser snarled and batted the guns aside, knocking them out of the shooters' hands. The shooters appeared to be a bunch of (now-terrified) cowboys.

Bowser roared and breathed fire just to make a point. "Who are you people?" he growled, stomping towards the skinny cowboy in the middle and picking him up by the collar. Bowser leered over the cowboy, watching him squirm and sweat.

"Uh-uh... y-yer in Bl-Bl-Black J-j-Johnson's h-hideaway," stammered the cowboy as Bowser tightened his grip on the collar. Bowser dropped the cowboy and grunted, before turning around.

"Well, then which one of you pipsqueaks is Black Johnson?" Bowser asked.

Shots. Bowser turned around.

A man stood at the far edge of the hideaway, just next to a wooden water tower. His pistol smoked. He glared at Bowser with one eye. His mustache ebbed as he chewed his tobacco. His chin was covered in stubble. He spat his tobacco on the ground.

The man's spurs clinked against his black boots as he made his way towards the Koopa King. His voice was quiet.

"And what're you doing in this here hideaway?" Black Johnson murmured, flicking his hat's brim up and glaring at Bowser. Not even the giant Koopa could scare Black Johnson, for there ain't nobody in the West meaner than he.

Bowser took a step forward. "That's exactly what I'd like to know," he snarled. "How'd I end up in this two-bit joint?"

Black Johnson circled Bowser. "Now, lissen," he said, completely ignoring Bowser. "If yer gonna be trespassin' on my property, ya might as well make yerself useful."

"I serve no one," Bowser grunted.

"Don't think of it as servitude," Johnson sneered. "I give you all the food you can eat and water you can drink. In exchange, you keep people out of this place."

Bowser folded his arms. "Give me one good reason I should."

Johnson flicked out another gun. "This here's Bessie," he explained, cocking the gun. "Six-shootin' revolver. Fastest in the west. Ya can't just find these anywhere." He fired at one of the posts of the water tower. The bullet pierced straight through the wooden trellises, splintering the boards. The tower creaked, groaned, and with a tremendous crack, collapsed onto the ground, spilling all the water inside the tower into the reservoir created by the dam.

"Have I made my point?" Johnson asked.

Bowser stared. Then he began to chuckle. "GRA-HA-HA! That's all? And here, I was expecting something more like THIS!"

With that, he turned around and blasted a jet of fire at a row of shacks, instantly reducing them to cinders.

He folded his arms. "Top that, cowpoke," Bowser boasted, as several of Johnson's lackeys rushed to douse the flames.

Kate

As Kate stood up and prepared to perform another falconer's act, she turned and saw a figure in the distance limping slowly towards town. Some of the locals looked at the figure as well before milling about their business. Kate stayed fixated on the figure, however, and began to walk towards it, noting its tattered, yet seemingly anachronistic, apparel.

"Hey!" she shouted, breaking into a run. Madge clutched Kate's glove with her talons. Kate tried to keep the falcon steady as she ran. She slowed down as she approached the limping man. He was about three inches taller than she. Kate noted some of his injuries and burns.

Kate screeched to a halt. "You're not from around here, are you? Me neither," she said. Normally, Kate would give a new person an extremely energetic introduction, but this time, Kate felt rather concerned. She didn't know if it was being plucked from her time ('cause apparently that's what happened to her), or seeing the man's injuries, but she felt the need to stay a bit on the serious side. "Name's Kate Wetherall, by the way," she added. Kate gestured towards the man. "Hey," she asked, "you want me to help you towards town?"
 
Eren​

It happened so suddenly.

One moment, Eren Jaegar was swinging from tree to tree, his grapples hitting their intended targets and a titan in sight as he was preparing his blades to cut into their weak spot at the base of their neck, then the next he was out in the open air and no longer connected to the nearest tree. With a yelp, Eren tumbled down, desperately pressing the triggers of his gear and trying to get a grapple onto another tree to save himself. If only there was a tree out here. Eren crashed, rolling on the ground and hitting some sort of object that burst from the force and dumped liquid all over him, like a barrel.

Eren coughed, looking up to see where he was. He found himself in what appeared to in a desert town, the hot sun beating down on the place and wooden houses lined up on either side of a dirt road. The people regarded him with a strange look, dressed in a different fashion from what he was familiar with. Some muttered amongst themselves, staring at him then looking away when he turned to them.

"Where am I?" he asked, standing up.

Sayaka​

This world was dry, very dry. The dirt blew into dust with just one step and the air left her throat parched. Sayaka Miki stood in a wide open valley, covered in nothing but dry earth. Was this part of the new world Madoka created? No, this can't be. She couldn't feel her presence. And this was not a world Madoka would not have created herself. No, this place was different, so very different.

Madoka, can you hear me? Get me out of here! Sayaka thought. Nothing happened.

Sayaka looked around her, there was dry land everywhere. Pulling out her soul gem, Sayaka searched for water, following the flow of the underground reserves, looking for a source of water to drink. Having located a small source, she began to walk.


Maka​


Maka Albarn stared at the counter before her, not daring to lift her eyes and look around. This was so strange, this was so weird, where were they? How did they get here? Maka stared at the glass in front of her, barely touching the bitter flavor of the alcohol that sat inside. She had listened to the conversation that talking mushroom had with the bartender and immediately ordered a beer once the mushroom left. The people that hung around here were big burly brutes, not that she couldn't handle them, nah she has dealt with deadlier people, but with what just happened, she wasn't up for starting a conflict right now.

"Maka, do you sense the others?" Soul Evans, her weapon partner, asked. He turned in his chair.

Maka shook her head. No she couldn't. She couldn't sense any of their friends. Not Black Star, Tsubaki, Kid, Liz and Patty, her father, not even Asura's madness wavelength could be felt. All these new wavelengths were so strange, unfamiliar. Where were they.

"We need to stay together, Soul. This might be Asura's doing," she said.
 
Maine stood up slowly. Very dizzy from the sudden change in temperature. He had gone from being dragged over the edge of an icy cliff by a truck to sitting in the sand of a hot desert. A small wodden town could be seen in the distance. He looked around to find his grenade launcher half buried in sand. He picked it up and put it on his back. Where was he? Where were those pitiful simulation soldiers he was fighting? He made his way to the town. He stayed out of sight as he approached. From atop a wooden building he observed the people. Old west, that's where he was. Earth, centuries in the past. He jumped down from the roof of th building and made his way down the stretch if road in the middle of town. Obviously he was not on any UNSC controlled planet anymore. People seemed to cower and hide as he walked near.
 
Toad

The horse churned the dirt as Toad clung on to the back of Sheriff Hanson's shirt. Dust billowed from the horse's tracks as the duo rode alongside the furrows made by the river, long since evaporated.

"So, where's this Johnson guy at?" Toad asked.

"If we follow the dried-up river," Hanson replied, "we should be able to find the spot where Johnson's erected his dam. Once there, we gotta find out what he intends to do with all the water he's got."

Toad nodded, and continued to bounce up and down, grasping the folds of the shirt.

As they galloped across the desert sand, Toad saw the gaping mouth of a valley yawning towards them. "If I'm not mistaken on my geolography," Toad said, "rivers usually cut canyons through rock over time."

"That's the case, ain't it? I know where he put his dam. It is gonna be in the canyon; after all, I hain't seen any sinister hideouts 'round the riverbed... yet," Hanson replied.

Mario

Mario drummed his fingers on the table as cowboys argued with each other. It was loud, obnoxious, and rather detrimental to Mario's task of figuring out where the heck he was.

The piano plinked. The bartender rubbed a glass. Mario felt out-of-place in his plumber's outfit.

Mario twirled his mustache, his blue eyes darting back and forth. Some of the ladies were giving him dirty looks.

He reclined in his chair. He eyed two teenagers who also seemed a little out-of-place in a bar as well. The girl had a black coat and grayish-blond pigtails. The boy, a yellow-and black jacket and white, messy hair. Mario rubbed his eyes. Honestly, two teenagers dressed like that were not the first things Mario would expect to see in a Western saloon.

Casey Jr.

The locomotive gritted his teeth as he struggled to remain on course. Not easy on tireless, flanged wheels on the hard-packed dirt of the Wild West. Casey whistled an alarm, causing several carrion birds in front of him to freak out and fly away. His pistons pumped, switching directions constantly to keep Casey running straight. Steam burst from his vents. Smoke billowed from his stack. His firebox flared and his six wheels struggled to keep him from toppling into the ground.

Casey made a hard right by abruptly shifting the direction of his wheels and drifting several yards before returning to course. He realized his mistake when he saw that he was headed straight for a sheriff's office in an old Western town. He hit the brakes, and with a horrendous, metal-grinding SKREEEEEEERRRCCCCHHHHHH!!!!!, Casey began to slow down, sparks trailing from his axle and his brakes.

Casey had no idea what had caused him to fly out of control. One minute, he was taking a ride out the town, traveling the tracks. The next thing he knows, he's broken 120 mph and begun to skid out.

Casey drifted to the side. He braced for impact. His wheels let out a metallic whine as coal spilled from his tender. Casey jammed his piston-arms into the ground to further slow his approach towards the back of a building. He turned 180 degrees and thankfully slipped right between the sheriff's office and the bank.

His cowcatcher caught a bunch of empty barrels, splintering them into planks and woodchips, before he finally came to a halt in the middle of town, his wheels steaming from friction. Casey wheezed as steam burst from his whistle. A bunch of the locals, who had shown aversion to the silver-armored soldier who had jumped from the rooftops, were now inspecting the train, murmuring and talking to each other. After all, it's not every day that a train derails and skids all the way into the middle of town.

The town had no trains, anyhow. Not a single track for miles, and the odd stagecoach. Casey tried to ward them away. He needed space. "Shoo," he whistled, articulating the blasts of steam to form coherent English. The citizens didn't take the hint and continued to stare. "Shoo!" he tried again. Nope. No answer.
 
Soon, Shepard reached the town. It looked ancient. He walked towards what looked to be an old inn, and looked around - the people just as ancient as the town, save for a strange man in overalls and a hat, and two teens. He headed and sat at the bar. "Excuse me sir, where is this?"
 
Akane​
Akane pushed herself off the ground, spitting sand out of her mouth. All of a sudden it was hot, like really hot. As far as the eye could see, there was sand and a few cacti. She blinked quickly, trying to awake from the realistic dream. But for some reason, it didn't feel like a dream.

"Natsuru," She whispered. "NATSURU!" She yelled off into the distance, her voice bouncing off in the distance. She was all alone, in an unfamiliar place. Akane fell down to her knees, weeping and sopping, until her blue bracelet began to glow. Akane's orange hair disappeared, along with her green eyes, and timid personality. Red hair, red eyes, and an aggressive nature surfaced.

Akane began to run, off into the distance trying to find something. The only thing she hoped was that she wouldn't starve or die of heat.​
 
Maine made his way to the saloon. He was growing impatient and combined with how confused he was, made him very angry. He took one step inside the saloon and all activity ceased. The sight of a large man in strange armor was baffling to the primtive minds of the locals. Maine looked around the room. He saw that he was not the only one out of the ordinary. A man in a tattered uniform of unknown origin sat at the bar. He was about to go and confront the man when one of the barbaric locals spit on his arm. Maine snapped. He had no more patience. He grabbed the cowboy by the back of his shirt and threw him over his shoulder and onto a table. Hard enough that the table splintered. Suddenly everyone in the room was standing up and pointing guns at eachother.
 
Natsuru​
Blinking twice, Natsuru tried to decipher where he was. Or should I say she was. He had transformed into his Kampfer form, and couldn't seem to go back. He ran a hand through her -his- hair, rustling it slightly. He looked around, seeing that he was on a fast-moving train, he could not just jump off and look for Shizuku and Akane. He felt out of place, in his female school uniform that was torn up in all the wrong places.

"Excuse me, ma'am," A man wearing a hat over his eyes pushed past her, smoking a pipe in his mouth. Natsuru coughed as the foul stench reached his nose. He plugged it, looking around for the man who had just pushed past him. All he could see was mothers and fathers with their children, staring and whispering about Natsuru. He felt extremely embarrassed; not to mention violated. This form was a part of him too, he couldn't let that fact go.

(Fixed it!)​
 
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Shizuku​
Shizuku tapped her fingers anxiously, waiting for her food. She had fallen into a mysterious land, with no sense of where she was. Everything seemed so old, including the people. And the way the talked... it was improper for the Twenty-First century. She turned to the muscular man beside her, who was currently drinking some sort of alcoholic beverage from a fancy glass.

"Sir, by any chance do you know where we are?" And when? She silently added, poking his elbow.

"A pub," He made a duh face, making her annoyed. She got they were in a pub, but where was the pub? Obviously, he was satisfied with his answer, so she had to go all Shizuku Kampfer up on his ass. She stood up, glaring down at the man in the chair. "Where is this pub at?" She asked, transforming into her Kampfer form. She held one of her double-edged chain-linked knives at his throat, still waiting for her answer.

"I-I don't know! I-I'm just a tourist!" He yelled, not convincing Shizuku at all. She began to lightly glaze his throat with the knife. He began to yap like a parrot, telling her all she needed to know.​
 
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Mario

BANG! BANG! BANG BANG BANG!

Mario ducked under the table. Some odd armored dude just walked in and started a barfight. (Actually, Mario noted, it was the guy who spit on the armored dude's arm, but details.)

The portly plumber yelped as one of the cowboys grabbed him by the collar and thrust him onto the table. Mario kicked the cowboy back into a chair. The guy on the piano pulled out a pistol, but another cowboy clubbed the piano player over the head. With a dissonant bang, the piano player crumpled under the piano.

Mario realized that it was high time he got out of there. Mario dashed over to the bar, grabbed hold of the two teenagers' chairs, then hurled the chairs out the window to quickly remove them from the situation. He then rolled on the ground to avoid falling bodies and firing bullets.

Mario burst out the saloon doors panting. He wiped sweat off his brow. "Mama mia," he wheezed. His mustache drooped a little.

Kate

Alright. The guy totally ignored her. Kate shrugged and turned back towards town. She noticed that a crowd had converged in the middle of town. She ran over to see what the matter was.

"Wait, what's a train doing here? There aren't any tracks running through the town," Kate mused. She looked around for any latent parallel rails. Nope.

Kate approached the locomotive; a 2-4-0 steamer with a coal tender. Red headlamp, red cowcatcher, red cab. Most intriguingly, the locomotive had a cartoonish appearance, like it was from a Disney movie or something.

"Alright, out of the way, folks," Kate said, pushing her way through the crowd and receiving more than one dirty look. She appraised the locomotive, circling it, rubbing its pistons, tapping on the boiler with her knuckle. When she came back around to the locomotive's front, she found that it appeared to stare at her. "Well, then," Kate said. The train whistled in such a way that the sound of the steam resembled words. Kate couldn't quite make them out. "You're a long way from the tracks, aren't you?"

The locomotive tooted in what appeared to be agreement. Was it Kate's imagination, or did the train's boiler just nod in the affirmative?

Toad


"We should be approaching Black Johnson's hideaway pretty soon," Hanson said to Toad, not turning back towards the mushroom (after all, Toad was prone to falling off the horse).

"Okay, so let's take a look at this dam block in the river," Toad replied.

The horse's gallops echoed in the canyon. Toad looked up at the expansive walls of dull-brown rock and dead brush. He spotted a trickling flow of water and rivulets in the ground that signified the flow of the river.

"We should be getting sniped by now," Hanson muttered, stopping the horse about thirty yards away from the wooden dam that blocked up the river. Water trickled through the cracks, but not very much. It was a recently-constructed, crudely-made dam.

Toad hopped off the horse and waddled over to the dam. "Psh, you call this a dam?" he teased, pulling a board from the dam wall. Water spurted from the newly-created hole in the dam, and Toad dashed back. "Alright, I fixed your water problem--EEEK!"

Toad found himself clinging to a hanging branch, a massive singed ring where he had stood a second before. He heard a nasty, growly laugh he thought he'd never hear in a place like this.

"GRA-HA-HA! Surprised, pipsqueak?" Bowser sneered, stomping from a hiding spot at a ledge above where Toad stood. At his side...

"Black Johnson," grumbled, Sheriff Hanson, placing a hand on his holster. The infamous outlaw Johnson stood on horseback next to the Koopa King.

"Sheriff Hanson," sneered Black Johnson. "Why am I not surprised?"
 
Shepard saw the fight start, and saw the portly mustachioed man outside - in his current state, he probably wouldn't be able to fight properly. "What IS this place? Where are we? Is Earth safe?"
 
Akane​
She ran for minutes, that turned into hours, before finding something. Some sort of pub or saloon that looked extremely old, like archaic. Opening the door, she found a group of western men, presumably cosplayers, in a huge fight, that riled up everyone else inside the saloon. The first man clenched a fist, before punching the other one straight in the jaw. Blood dripped from the most likely broken jaw, and Akane, reverted back to her glasses-wearing self, stood there with her petite hands covering her mouth. Her eyes were opened wide, but her hands kept her jaw from dropping to the floor like a 1,000 pound weight.

"Hey, little lassie," The man who punched the other one, jumped over a table, wrapping an arm around her. She tensed, feeling awkward under the large man's arm. She happened to be quite small, so she couldn't escape his harsh grip. Just then, her blue bracelet began to glow, causing her to transform into her Kampfer self. Her red hair brushed against his hand, and her red eyes were closed as she twitched an eyebrow, annoyed by the man's ignorant action's.

"How dare you touch me!" Akane yelled at him, flipping him over her shoulder. She placed a foot smack in the center of his chest, slowing air flow. Akane held his left arm in her hand, careful to not let him escape her grip.

"I-m...so...rry," He choked out on the ground, causing Akane's grip to tighten.

"I ain't buying it!" She pulled his arm out of socket, causing a breathless scream to leave the man's mouth.

"Pathetic," She spit on him, before going to the counter to grab herself a drink. Suddenly, she heard the sounds of hands slamming together. She did a full 360 to see that the entire saloon was clapping for her. A small smile creeped its way onto her lips, as she turned to the man behind the bar.​
​
 
Mario

Mario told Shepard that he had no idea where he was either, and that he'd just gone outside to avoid getting clocked over the head or shot. As far as he knew (as he continued to tell Shepard), Earth was safe.

Mario noticed that the sounds of violence within the saloon had died down, to be replaced by thunderous applause. Mario peered in and saw a pissed-looking redhead whaling on one of the cowboys. Mario slipped back outside the pub and decided that today wasn't the best time to get involved with that sort of stuff.

Toad

Hanson and Johnson exchanged the obligatory threatening banter that Toad associated with stereotypical shootouts, so Toad ignored that in favor of gaping at Bowser, the last person he had expected (or wanted) to see here.

"Geez, Bowser, I didn't know you'd stoop to workin' for a dude like this guy," Toad said, jabbing a thumb at Black Johnson (while maintaining a death grip on the branch).

"He and I have come to a... mutual understanding," Bowser replied, glancing over at the outlaw. Toad rolled his eyes. "Alright, look, there's a town of people who are dying of thirst. Sheriff Loose Cannon here--"

"Hey, watch the mouth," Hanson growled.

"--As I was saying," Toad continued, "Sheriff had to knock me about a little just for getting a glass of water at the saloon. A glass! Eight friggin' fluid ounces of water!"

"So?" Bowser sneered, folding his arms.

"So he and I came over to bust the dam," Toad replied. "So there. Black Johnson's precious dam just got wrecked."

Another jet of water burst from the dam, squirting towards the already-growing stream. Sheriff Hanson's horse pawed the ground, snorting and splashing in the steadily-quickening creek. "Easy, girl," Hanson said, patting the horse.

Toad shimmied off the branch and dashed to a ledge opposite from where Bowser was.

"Well, if you want your precious water so much," Black Johnson sneered, "then you can have it!"

He kicked a loose log on the dam.

Toad hadn't fully realized how dam tall the mass of logs was... it had even extended past the ledges where he, Bowser, and Johnson stood. "Shiitake," Toad grumbled, watching as logs began to fall off the dam and water began to spill over the side. The dam creaked and groaned as more and more wood fell into the growing stream. Toad's eyes widened as the dam began to collapse. He jumped down the ledges as bark chips rained down upon him. He slid down the dusty slopes and waded into the cold water. It swirled around his waist now. Toad, from a pocket under his shirt, pulled out a yellow "?" block, tossed it in the air, jumped up, and smacked it. A compressed cube of metal bounced out of the block, before rattling in midair and expanding into a go-kart, hitting the water. Toad jumped in and told Hanson to lead the way.

"They're getting away!" Bowser shouted to Black Johnson.

"You go after them. I don't need this water anymore," he replied. "After all, I've already done what I needed to do with it. If the town doesn't drown, then..."

Johnson ascended the canyon wall as Bowser hopped into his Koopa Clown Car. Toad slammed the gas while Hanson urged his horse forward. The kart's wheels churned the water and sent a spray of water into the air. Toad hit a button and the kart flashed blue, its wheels flipping downwards. The kart hovered about half a foot in the air. He sped after Sheriff Hanson, whose horse struggled to keep ahead of the running water.

Kate

Kate noticed that people were staring at her. "What, you think I'm a train-whisperer or something? Naw, there's no such thing," she assured the crowd.

"Then why were you talking to the darn thing?" a lanky cowboy asked.

"Because I feel like it," she replied. The cartoonish locomotive was definitely alive. When it turned its boiler to look at Kate as she encircled it, the crowd gasped.

"A ghost train," they whispered to each other.

Kate heard them. She rolled her eyes. "Okay, please tell me you're not going to just burn me 'cause I'm talking to a train," she said.

The locomotive's "eyes" darted around the crowd, whose agitation began to increase drastically. Kate gulped.

"Well, it's been fun, folks, but I think it's high time I got this thing back to the station," Kate announced, repressing her discomfort at the odd stares she was receiving from the locals. She hopped into the train and found that one of the levers was already thrown all the way backwards. "Alright, pal, I know you're alive," she said, looking around at the levers, pulleys, and buttons inside the cab. She opened the boiler door and dumped in a shovelful of coal.

She stuck her head out the window. Somebody cried "Witchcraft!" The other people stopped to stare at the guy who said that, then burst out laughing. Everybody knew witches didn't exist. Kate couldn't help but snicker as well. What a moron--

Kate suddenly felt the locomotive fly sideways across the dirt, slamming into the general store, breaking the front wall and causing the roof to cave in. Kate flinched as the building collapsed. The crowd gasped.

Kate looked out the window and saw the cashier behind the sales counter cowering in fear. "Hey, pal, I'm not going to hurt you. It was an accident, I swear---" Kate started. Suddenly, the train burst through the roof of the now-ruined general store, suspended in midair by thorny vines. Kate stiffened and stared out the window.

Hardy, thorny, black vines had erupted from the ground in front of where the locomotive had stood. The crowd had been enclosed by a slowly-compressing ring of vines. The vegetation crept towards each building, snaking up wooden columns like out-of-control kudzu. "Alright, what the heck?!" Kate shouted. "What'd I do?!"

The vines dropped the locomotive on top of the saloon. The locomotive crashed through the roof, hitting the second floor, then the first floor. Thankfully, the locomotive had arched in such a way that it didn't crush anybody.

Casey Jr.

Casey's boiler began to overheat. Steam whistled from his pistons and his whistle. The girl in his cab stuck her head out the window. Casey threw his levers forward and puffed out the door, ripping a Casey-shaped hole in the saloon. A portly plumber stepped out of the way as Casey powered down the center of the town. Black brambles. This could only mean one thing.

Casey twisted his boiler towards the sky, glaring at a tall, thin figure descending on steps made of vine.

"Dumbo's precious circus train," the figure spat, "Casey Junior."

"You know this wacko?" the girl asked.

Casey blasted a violent, heated whistle, puffing his cheeks in indignation. As the ominous figure approached him, Casey could make out her horned headdress, her dark robe, her staff (with the raven perched upon it), and that trademark green skin that struck fear and disgust in the hearts of many Disney characters. The stuff of all Disney's nightmares, perhaps one of the evilest creations Walt Disney has ever conceived, the embodiment of envy herself.

"Fancy meeting you here," Maleficent continued, spreading her arms and prompting several dark portals to spit out short black creatures with crumpled horns and impish stances. Their glowing yellow eyes maintained their gaze on Casey as they crept toward him.
 
Shepard followed the man still. It's not like he had anywhere to be. "That's a relief. Any docks or ports still working? I'd need to get a shuttle off-world, see if the others are fine."
 
Mario

Mario shrugged, explaining that he had no idea if there were any riverside cities around these parts; from the looks of it, there wasn't a single shipyard for miles and miles. Mario was oblivious to the fact that Shepard probably meant "spaceports" since those weren't common in the Mushroom Kingdom (or in the mid-19th-century, for that matter).

Mario flinched when he heard a crash through the saloon. It sounded like somebody had dropped a train from a helicopter into the saloon. Mario turned around and saw the people who previously applauded for the strange, aggressive redhead begin to scream like little girls (including some of the men). Mario peered into the window and saw the ceiling begin to groan, sawdust falling from the cracks. He saw a cartoonish train crash through the ceiling. Mario looked up for the helicopter and didn't find one.

Mario pulled Shepard back as the locomotive puffed out the front of the saloon, taking most of the door with it. He turned around and saw the thick mass of vines. When did that get there?
 
Shepard eyed Mario confusedly before the crash. After, he just looked utterly flabbergasted. "Did... What the hell is that anyway and where the hell did it fall from? Looks too frail to be an orbital strike weapon..."
 
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