Captain Falcon noticed that he had been left behind, on the dead battlefield with the wounded ghost girl and a giant flaming hedgehog/echidna thing he couldn't rembember what it actually was. "Well," He said to no-one in particular, "I've had some fun adventures, but it's about time for me to head off." And with that, he Falcon Punched into the sky, blasting off into outer space.
Meanwhile, on the Airship.
The rebel re-colours carried Justin through the kitchen, the cooks joining their ranks, into the brig. There was only one prisoner being held there, and his cell door opened as the re-colours stood behind Justin, leaving him facing the prisoner. It seemed that the rebel re-colours had their leader, but Justin had no clue who this person actually was. "What the hell are you here for?" Justin asked the prisoner, hoping for some clues.
"See, that's a good question. Hell. It's where I come from. Where I escaped from, actually. In due time I shall tell you more about myself, but it seems you have a revolution to lead. Let us go." The prisoner said in a low, gravelly voice. He stepped forward, and walked over to the weapons locker in the corner. Opening it, he drew a pure white katana and a gunbelt with a .357 Magnum revolver in it, and put them on. He then turned to the coat rack on the wall next to the weapons locker, grabbing a battered old brown cloak, throwing it over his shoulders and masking his muscled physique. He turned to Justin and the re-colours. "I'm ready. Lead the way."
Justin turned, then turned back. "First, what's your name?" The prisoner put his hood on, masking all but his blue eyes, which shone like cold ice.
"Some call me Jack. Others call me the Reaper."
Meanwhile, on the Airship.
The rebel re-colours carried Justin through the kitchen, the cooks joining their ranks, into the brig. There was only one prisoner being held there, and his cell door opened as the re-colours stood behind Justin, leaving him facing the prisoner. It seemed that the rebel re-colours had their leader, but Justin had no clue who this person actually was. "What the hell are you here for?" Justin asked the prisoner, hoping for some clues.
"See, that's a good question. Hell. It's where I come from. Where I escaped from, actually. In due time I shall tell you more about myself, but it seems you have a revolution to lead. Let us go." The prisoner said in a low, gravelly voice. He stepped forward, and walked over to the weapons locker in the corner. Opening it, he drew a pure white katana and a gunbelt with a .357 Magnum revolver in it, and put them on. He then turned to the coat rack on the wall next to the weapons locker, grabbing a battered old brown cloak, throwing it over his shoulders and masking his muscled physique. He turned to Justin and the re-colours. "I'm ready. Lead the way."
Justin turned, then turned back. "First, what's your name?" The prisoner put his hood on, masking all but his blue eyes, which shone like cold ice.
"Some call me Jack. Others call me the Reaper."