Sometimes, I have visions...
They are not visions from god or anything.. Or maybe they are and god is actually just some deranged slapstick comic book-artist stuck in late puberty for all eternity. I hope not… ah. But I digress. I get visions; they bother me…stay stuck on my retina for days. I have to cast them out: literally, or they will not leave me in piece.
This one is actually begging to be drawn. A one-page comic I would say. Thought I'd write it down first though. To see if it's worth the effort, and to flesh out the details. Doing this is an experiment; I usually only do one or the other. Well, let's see how this goes huh?
So here goes: A prince of tennis X Beelzebub crossover. (Can you believe it? I still can't really…)
0*0*0*0
They are at a stand-off in an empty, grey field. The place looks deserted; like a war-zone. If a slightly pixilated war-zone. Some of the more observant readers might recognize the field as one of the settings for End of War, the online war-game from Beelzebub.
On one side stand three women, dressed in basic camouflage suits, semi-automatics over their shoulders.
"We are going to crush you." says an evil-looking woman. She scowls from half-lidded eyes. Long red bangs in tresses and a small mouth only add to her bad-girl ensemble. Some might recognize her as Nene Oomori, the fourth leader of the Red Tails, a notorious gang of female delinquents.
"That's right, crush!" says the second woman, a blond but not less evil looking girl wearing a medical anti-contamination mask. She is known as Ryoko Asuka.
"KuRuuu~-Ush!" supplies a third, somewhat clueless looking girl, Yuka Hanazawa, helpfully.
Across from them one of their opponents sighs. He is of rather diminutive statue, compared to the three women, but even more so when seen next to the tall the tall, broad man that is his partner in crime. The short boy is wearing a baseball cap over black half-long bangs. The tall boy has black spikes, but an open expression. For reasons only few of us would care to speculate on, both boys have tennis rackets instead of firearms casually draped over the shoulder.
"Oh, stop whining, Echizen." Says the tall one, known as Momoshiro. "You cannot do tennis every day for the rest of your life. Let's play a game for once."
The smaller boy casts a sullen look at his racket, but does not seem to notice that tennis is, actually, supposed to be considered a game.
"Enough talk!" screams a ditzy looking Yuka, taking her firearm in hands. A maniacal gleam passes her wide eyes, making that flower in her hair look decidedly out of place. "Fiiiiiireeeeee!"
And she does; bullets riddle the field; starting from poorly aimed and then creeping towards the two boys.
Still the pair looks not at all worried; when finally bullets start honing in on them, they start running: side-ways; skidding. From left to right and back again. Like a pair of slalom skiers. Or maybe a pair of tennis players.
Both Ryoko and Nene join in now, putting in their own salvo of rounds with a lot better aim.
But still, amazingly, the fail to land a single hit.
Finally, after what seems an eternity, the playing field quiets: all three guns are out of ammo.
But both boys are unscratched, and looking rather pleased with themselves.
"Su~gei!" Yuka finally calls out.
The little boy smirks, eyes still hidden in the shade of his baseball cap. Then, he pulls out a grenade from his pocket.
"Mada, mada da né."
Bites off the safety pin with his teeth…
"Oi, wait-" Momoshiro gets in before:
Twist-o-serve!
*boom*
An empty field; three women stand staring at a black crater.
"Nene-sempai… is that?" the girl with the mask askes, unsure.
"That's right, Ryoko." Nene looks as surprised as the blonde. "That was our first win ever."
"Sugei!" Yuka sings.
-V-
-V-
"Yu-ka-chi for the win!"