Brooklyn, 1943*...

The summer heat was already beginning to win out over the cool morning air that seemed to waft up from the pavement. The sun had barely crept above the city skyline, but even then the humidity was proving to be uncomfortable. The streets of New York were still relatively bare; only speckled with the few early morning risers who had the foresight to get their shopping done before the heat reached its full power. They roamed the sidewalks, gazing in through the various windows; hunting for items on their lists, or, perhaps, just browsing. One never knew what one might find in the glass case of a shop. Jewelry, food, antiques; they all managed to catch the eye of a passerby.

All, that is, except for one.

Within the still dark interior of his shop, a sort, portly man, dressed in a red shirt and blue overalls, sat slumped in defeat. He rested limply in a chair by the window side, gazing sadly out at the world as it awakened. True, possible customers passed by all the time, but they never gave his shop a second glance. It was still early yet; the man looked up at the clock on the wall behind him. It took him a moment to distinguish which hand was which on the old relic, before he gave a sighing murmur.

"7:30."

He turned back to the window, his shoulders sinking even lower. Who was he trying to fool; no one was going to be coming. It was the same day after day. Even when the streets of New York were packed with people, no one ever gave his shop a glance. Not that he could blame them. After all, how often did a passerby come looking for a plumber? It wasn't like the tools and various sinks, tubs, bolts, and pipes in the window were really all that enticing. Most of them had sat there so long that they had begun to rust; covered in dust that had settled over the past few years. Even the windows themselves held a certain grimy tinge to them. He supposed he should clean them; put a little effort into presentation. But what was the use? He highly doubted that that would make even the slightest of difference. Besides, plumbing was a dirty job. There was nothing clean or pretty about it; so why try and make it look like it was.

Maybe it was the war that was to blame. After all, who had the cash for a leaky facet when it could be used to fight the enemy in Germany. What else could America use against such a threat; plungers? No, times were hard all over. People couldn't afford comforts for themselves; unless they were rich, in which case they only hired the best plumbers.

Of which, even he had to admit, he was not.

The dejected plumber rested his mustachioed face against his gloved hand, letting out another sigh. He would just do what he did every day. Wait. Someone was bound to call, at least. This was the city. Someone, somewhere, had to be having trouble with their drains. Someone must need a plumber for something...Right?

The light footsteps shuffling against the gritty, tiled floor caught his attention, and he didn't even have to turn to know who it was. It had become a sort of routine. It was the same day after day. "Good-a morning, Luigi," he said dully, his thick Italian accent sounding dreadfully loud in the silence of the shop.

"Good-a morning, Mario," the newcomer replied, coming to sit beside him. His accent was even thicker, made far more so with the lowness of an early morning voice. Luigi looked a lot like his brother, Mario. They both shared some features, such as light, brown hair and and pale, blue eyes. They even sported mustaches, though they both preferred different styles. But Luigi was a good several inches taller, and quite a bit thinner than his portly brother. It was a source of confusion for many, who often assumed that Luigi was the older of the two, when, in fact, he was the younger.

Luigi settled into the old wicker chair beside Mario, a cup of coffee held in each hand. Hesitantly, he offered one to his brother. Mario took it without a word, still gazing out at the street. Luigi felt his spirit sink a little. Mario's enthusiasm had been falling for the past several weeks, but this was a record-breaking low. The shorter man was usually a source of unextinguishable energy; always coming up with new ideas and plans to gain more attention and acknowledgement from the people they worked for. Or wished they worked for. Jobs came then and again; enough to support them, but nothing like the dream Mario had always had for their business. When they had first left Brooklyn and opened their shop, nothing had been able to stop them. Mario had been convinced that they would be the greatest plumbing team the world had ever seen.

But that was nearly two years ago. Or was it three?

And sometimes it felt like no one even knew they were alive. They were nobodies; unknown faces of two ordinary men, immigrated from Italy in their youth, left to make a life in a country plagued by war. It had been hard to find an occupation that they thought they could handle. Neither one of them had ever had any spectacular schooling, though Mario had gained more in that department than his brother, which came in handy from time to time. They were a struggling business; barely earning enough to pay their bills. Which reminded Luigi of something important.

"Did-a any mail come in-a yet?"

Their electrical was surely due, and, if it was, that would be hard on them. Very hard. It had been a solid week since their last job, and money was becoming very scarce.

Mario nodded, crooking a thumb to a pile of yellowed envelopes on the desk at the back of their shop.

Setting down his chipped coffee mug, Luigi got up and walked over to the scratched and faded surface. Mario's desk was littered with junk; everything from paper and pencils to a stack of dirty dishes that had managed to collect over the past few days. Luigi gave the mess a disgusted look before shrugging his shoulders and carefully extricating the stack of mail from the wreck. Some were older; bills that were still due. More money they owned and didn't have. Some were newer, evident by the lack of dust. One envelope had been opened, and Luigi guessed Mario had already read it. Removing it from the pile and setting down the rest of the stack back on the desk, he carefully removed the letter from the envelope.

Yup. It was the electrical bill. And it made him feel weak in the knees. The amount printed on the paper was far more than he had been expecting. His eyes scanned over the formal-looking, typed words; knowing that there would be no way around paying this time. Mario had managed to get them out of trouble with the electrical company several times now. The first time relying on the their sympathy; the second, their guilt; the forth they had gotten lucky and had actually gotten a few jobs to supply at least part of the fee, and that had satisfied them for a while. But now, the odds were against them. There was no way around it this time; and they didn't have a penny to their name.

"That came-a this morning."

Luigi flinched and turned to give his brother a concerned look. Mario had risen from his seat at some point; coming to stand beside him. Luigi looked down at the note in his hands, then back up to Mario's face. "A job could all-a-ways-a come in," he offered hopefully, though he knew that was extremely unlikely. No one had called them in days. But his small glimmer of optimism, no matter how fragile, seemed to glint off of Mario's personality; where it quickly began to grow.

"That's-a right..." Mario held a hand to his chin, a smile beginning to creep into his face; just as the sun's full light broke over the horizon. Mario's usual, cheery attitude returned to him so fast it was unnerving. There was one thing about the older brother one could be absolutely sure of; that nothing could ever keep him down for long. He had a habit of pulling himself out of depression; though, sometimes, he needed a little nudge first. "Something's-a sure to come-a up," he declared, snatching the note from Luigi's grip. He gave the letter a tap with the back of his hand. "All-a we have to do is-a stall until then!"

That hadn't been quite what Luigi had meant. But, it was better than the low, saddened state Mario had been in before. He couldn't stand that. Luigi had enough trouble keeping himself from slipping into despair as it was; he needed Mario to keep as positive as possible. Sometimes it was the only thing keeping the business afloat. Pure, untarnished enthusiasm.

Grabbing Luigi's wrist abruptly, Mario suddenly pulled his puzzled younger brother toward the shaded doorway that led out to the sunny, main street. "Since our-a troubles are-a far less dark than-a we first thought," he grinned, "We should-a enjoy this-a lovely day!"

Luigi fought slightly against Mario's tight, enthusiastic hold, as well as the urge to roll his eyes. Mario was always able to swing from one extreme to another; one moment worried and depressed over their situation, and next far too laid back and easy going. It was a wonder that their shop had lasted these last few years. Mario's business sense was terrible, and, sadly, so was Luigi's. But, for the sake of his brother's boisterous nature and hopeful spirit, Luigi willingly let himself be led outside.

Mario pulled Luigi to the sidewalk. The morning sun felt warm on their backs as they turned to look at the outer front of the shop. It was a dismal sight. The paint, on what little wood that showed, was old, chipped, and stained with patches of drown; dirty hand prints and scuffs that had accumulated over the years. Even the door, once painted a pure white, had not been spared the soil of time. The small, glass window which belonged to their shop was grayed with dust, and the white lettering that read 'Mario Bros. Plumbing Co.' had faded to a dull, sickly yellow. All in all, it was a disheartening picture.

But Mario, now that he had been sufficiently brought up from his momentary pit of despair, would not be swayed from his excitement. All traces of sadness and hopelessness had vanished from him as he let go of Luigi's wrist and stood, hands on his hips, surveying the mess before him. He saw it with renewed vigor; a once more enlightened hope. "We could give-a it a fresh coat of-a paint," he suggested loudly, perhaps speaking, not only to Luigi, but anyone else within earshot. Advertisement, of any kind, couldn't hurt.

Luigi decided not to argue. There wasn't any point in doing so. The place did need fixing up...even if their electricity was probably just about to be cut off for late payments. It certainly wouldn't do any harm. It might even appease their debtors wrath, to a degree. But it would take time to get the work needed done accomplished, and they couldn't even get started without first buying some paint. Paint, however, would cost money...which they didn't have. And so they were back to square one. But Luigi wasn't about to bring that up. Mario would figure it out soon enough; might as well let him be excited and happy while it lasted.

Though it proved not to last very long at all.

"Hey! You!"

Both Mario and Luigi gave a start, sending frightened glances down the littered walkway to their left. They already knew who the unfriendly voice belonged to, though it did little to ease their anxiety. Mario squared his shoulders, physically bracing himself for the confrontation that was sure to come, while Luigi vainly tried to shield himself behind his much shorter brother.

Foreman Spike* was by no means a pleasant man. Burly and large, he even towered over Luigi by a good several inches; and he was one to use it to his full advantage. He was head of one of the largest wrecking companies in the area, and, while his men did good work when it came to demolishing and erecting buildings, the way in which they went about their work was anything but good. Small shops were commonly prone to the foreman's sway; one day in business, and the next convinced to sell what little property they had over to the unsavory man's corporation. Spike had done such stone-hearted work to nearly every struggling business on the corner. He claimed that a large market, issued by a wealthy patron, was looking into building in their vicinity, which, naturally, meant that all the little shops and stores would have to move. Their places would be bulldozed to the ground to make way for a 'better' future in commerce. Foreman Spike had been successful in 'convincing' all but a few shop-owners to see things his way; Mario and Luigi's shop among those who still held out against him.

And that made them a favorite target.

Mario's cheerful mood evaporated to make room for a look of stubborn defiance as Foreman Spike marched toward the two plumbers. He didn't halt until he and Mario stood almost toe to toe, Mario barely coming up to Spike's chest. The bearded man's fists were clenched menacingly, as though he intended to floor the older brother with a single punch, but his face was adorned with a cruel, belittling smile.

"I want to talk with you, Plumber!" Spike growled from between his large teeth. He wore dark sunglasses that obscured his eyes from view, making it hard to read his expression fully. Mario never would have admitted it, but that unnerved him a bit. "You've been avoiding me the last few days," the foreman accused, jabbing a large, thick finger into the shorter man's chest. "And, frankly, I've had enough of your stall'n!"

Mario gazed calmly up at his instigator. He could feel Luigi at his back, trembling in fear, but he himself stood as tall and erect as his limited stature would allow. His younger brother was far more intimidated by the foreman than he was. Luigi was a flinchy sort; heart of gold, but hardly any backbone, which made an easy source of amusement for men like Spike. Sometimes Mario wondered whether the foreman came around to taunt him, or if he just got some kind of cruel enjoyment out of scaring Luigi out of his wits.

"We're not-a stalling," Mario stated flatly, sliding a hand behind him to try and still his brother. "We gave you your-a answer. We have nothing left to-a discuss."

Spike's eyes narrowed as his body tensed at Mario's unrestrained defiance, and for a moment Mario thought the foreman was really going to hit him. But still the plumber retained his stance, knowing that, if the man laid a hand on him, it would be at the foreman's own risk. The last thing Spike needed was him reporting an assault to the police. That would ruin everything. Besides, physical attacks weren't Foreman Spike's style. He was more of the sneaky, underhanded, kick-you-while-you're-down type of guy. It was a gamble, true; after all, every man has his limits. Push them too far and who knew what might happen. But Mario was a fairly good judge when it came to knowing how far to go, and his assumptions were correct; Spike made no movement to touch him.

"You're right," the foreman sneered, "You have no choice. Construction begins here in less than a week, and I have my orders to get the rest of you weirdos out before then. This is a big job; good pay, and it's not an opportunity I intend to miss." His voice was audibly strained in anger, and, though he couldn't be sure, Mario thought he detected a tone that made it sound more and more like a threat. "You have no choice."

"That's not-a fair!" Luigi piped up indignantly, popping out from behind his brother for a moment. "We own-a the shop; no one-a can force us-a to sell!" The taller plumber winced at his own boldness, withering under Foreman Spike's sun-glassed glare until he was once again partially hidden behind Mario's back.

"He's-a right," Mario inserted matter-of-factly, drawing the foreman's attention back to himself. "It's-a our right to stay-a here." He gestured a hand toward the gray, dirty, paint-chipped entrance to their shop. "This-a store belonged to our-a father, and-a we promised to take-a care of it after he-a died." The small bit of emotion that had glinted through that statement was quickly hidden by a look of determination. "And we're not-a going to go back on a promise for-a some high priced-a fruit market." He crossed his arms over his chest, showing physically that he was not going to be swayed.

The smile faltered on Spike's face momentarily, before spreading back into a taunting smirk. "We'll see," was his only answer. With an unpleasant chuckle, he roughly brushed by the two plumbers to continue on his way down the street, anticipating to have more luck with some of the less steadfast shop-owners.

Mario sent a glare after the foreman's back, before his face softened and he sent a comforting glance over his shoulder at his brother. "You can-a come out, Luigi. He's-a gone."

Hesitantly, Luigi stood to his full height. He was still shaking, but that was quickly residing. Mario noticed that a number of passerbys were giving them odd stares, as well as a few of the patrons across the street. It was rather an uncommon sight, he supposed, for someone to stand up to Foreman Spike; but he didn't care. He wasn't going to back down just because his decision was unpopular.

"Come on-a, Luigi," he said curtly, "Let's-a go." With that he marched back into their shop, head raised, shoulders squared, and his younger brother trailing dutifully behind him; the atmosphere outside having lost its kind, cheerful nature.

No sooner had the door shut behind them when Mario visibly tensed; his hands clenched at his sides. With a abruptness that startled Luigi terribly, Mario kicked out at a metal pail resting on the floor at their feet. It was heavy, full of nuts and bolts, but the force of the older brother's anger sent it sliding across the gritty floor. Luigi winced, knowing that, even though Mario hadn't reacted, it must have hurt.

And it had, but Mario made sure he didn't show it. His foot throbbed with the impact; he must have twisted his ankle wrong when he had lashed out. Nothing that wouldn't stop stinging in a moment. He crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at the far back wall. He could feel Luigi at his shoulder, silently watching his display of anger. Mario felt a brief twinge of regret, but that was quickly replaced by more frustration at the thought of the foreman.

"Who does he think-a he is?!" he growled hotly, still glaring at the paint-chipped wall. "Just-a because someone pays-a him to build these-a great buildings for a high price, does-a not give him the power, nor-a the right, to tell us-a what to do!" He stomped over to his chair by the window, flopping into it limply. His anger lingered in his expression a moment before slowly giving way to a look of sorrowful defeat. "What are-a we going to do, Luigi?" he asked weakly, taking off his blue plumbers cap* and running a hand through his light, brown hair. He bent forward, resting his arms on his knees and stared at the grimy floor tiles. "Everything's against-a us. This shop is-a falling apart; we haven't-a had a customer in ages; Spike's trying to push us-a out of our own-a shop and home..." He rubbed his eyes tiredly. "We don't-a even have enough-a money to pay our bills. We're-a failing in our work; we're-a failing in our-a promise to Papa. We're-a nobodies." His next words hurt even as he said them. "Maybe we should-a just give in. After all...how many plumbers does-a one city need?"

Luigi, who still stood silently by the door, moved forward carefully. Again he marveled at the way Mario could switch from one extreme emotion to another. It was only just after 7:45, and already his brother had gone from severely depressed, to excited, to proud, to angry, and then back to severely depressed. It made the younger brother exhausted just watching. Mario was a good sort; rare in his steadfast, bold attitude, especially when it came to opposition against things he believed in; like fairness and rights. But he also often worried about things that were out of his control. This was a perfect example. They couldn't do anything about the lack of customers that seemed to plague them. That was just the way things were. And nothing could really be done about Foreman Spike; they'd just have to keep fighting him. He couldn't force them out, not legally anyway. But Luigi was more concerned with the possibility of Spike trying something a little less according to the law. The foreman was being paid more money for this upcoming job than either Mario Brother had ever seen, and were ever likely to see. Spike would not be stopped easily, not with a prize like that to be had. They were standing in his way; well, Mario was really. Though, Luigi certainly backed his brother in the decision to stay. Luigi just hoped that Mario wouldn't get hurt in the process. Foreman Spike was a threat often better left alone.

Luigi opened his mouth to offer what little comfort he had been able to scrape together in his mind, but before he could do so the loud, insistent ringing of a telephone broke the silence. It took a moment before it sunk in that the shrill sound was coming from their own, dusty, rotary phone on the corner of Mario's desk. As soon as it registered, both brother's launched themselves toward the device with all the air of two children scrambling for the world's last cookie. Mario was a little faster, reaching the phone and lifting the receiver just as Luigi slammed into him; crunching him between his taller brother's body and the hard edge of the worn, surfaced desk.

"Ungh!...Hello?!" Mario sent his brother a pained, annoyed glance, pushing himself away from the desk and messaging his now bruised ribs. The hand on his lower chest stilled as the person on the opposite line started speaking.

Luigi watched his brother's changing expressions with impatience, wishing he could hear what was being said. But, unfortunately, he could not; leaving him with only Mario's broken sentences to appease his curiosity

.

"Yes; yes, this is-a the Mario Bros. Plumbing Company...Yes, ma'am...Uh huh...Really? That-a bad?...Yeesh." Mario's face was beginning to retain that natural glow again. "Yes, I'm-a sure we can fix-a that in no time...Yes, we can come-a right over. What's-a the address?...Oops, wait a minute." Mario hunted his desktop for a pencil and a small scrap of paper. It was hard to do, what with the surface littered with so much junk; but he managed, finding what he needed fairly quickly. "Okay, go ahead...449...North Pine Street...Got it; 449 North Pine Street, apartment B...Yes, ma'am...Thank you. We'll-a be right over. Yes. Goodbye."

Setting the phone back onto the receiver, Mario jumped around gripping his startled brother in a crushing bear-hug. Luigi gasped, trying to extricate himself from his enthusiastic brother's hold. Mario let go on his own, exclaiming loudly for all to hear.

"We've-a got a job, Luigi! That-a means money, and money-a means we can-a pay our bills!"

Luigi smiled; things looking up at last. Even if the money they earned from one job would surely not be enough to pay for even half their dues, it was a start. "What-a kind of job is it?" he asked, truly curious.

Mario shrugged. "The lady lost-a her ring down-a her kitchen sink. She thinks it's-a still in the drain, and she's-a probably right. It's-a more than-a likely that it's-a stuck in the sink trap*." He gave a chuckle as he tugged on the brim of Luigi's green plumber's cap, pulling it down playfully over his brother's eyes. "Come on, Bro," he laughed, "I told-a her we'd be right-a there! Can't-a keep our customer waiting!" He snatched up his tool box and headed for the door; Luigi stumbling after him as he tried to readjust his cap so that he could see.

This chapter (and the next few) take place during the game 'Mario Bros.', which originated as an arcade game. It was not the first Mario game, seeing as 'Donkey Kong' came long before, but it is the first to call Mario by his name rather than Jumpman, and was also the first to introduce Luigi as Mario's brother. It takes place in the sewers of New York, which means it must have happened before the brothers ended up in the Mushroom Kingdom. In my story, this game is when it all began...

*(1943) Yeah, I figured I'd have to pick a time period for Mario and Luigi to have existed in. I did a ton of research, searching for any clues as to what I could use. I found a series of pictures from the 1940's, and knew I was on the right track. Then I came across one particular picture that made up my mind. It was an old, faded, white and black, yellowed photo of two plumbers (dressed very similarly to Mario and Luigi) standing in front of their run down shop in the city. It inspired me, and helped me set the mood for my story. :)

*(Foreman Spike) This character is not mine. He comes from the Mario game 'Wrecking Crew', and was later believed to be a sort of prototype for Wario. In 'Wrecking Crew', Spike was a foreman for whom Mario and Luigi worked for. But instead of being helpful, Spike would try to stop them from getting any work done, for his own greedy purposes. In my story, you can see I've adapted him in so that his character fits. He's still a foreman for a construction company, but Mario and Luigi do not work for him.

*(Blue Plumber's Cap) In the game, on which this story is based, Mario wore a blue cap. The rest of his outfit was much the same as it is today. Luigi, however, was a different matter. Luigi was adorned in green overalls and a green cap with a brown undershirt.

*(Sink Trap) A part of a pipe under a sink where things typically get stuck.