Prologue One: The Plumbers' Past
The man trudged through the streets of the city, shivering as the rain poured. His umbrella shuddered as it was nearly caught by a slight gust of wind. He was alone again. It had been a slow day, not a single call for plumber's work. As the wind picked up gradually, it blew the man's favorite red cap emblazoned with an M off of his head and onto the sidewalk in front of him. He stooped to pick it up, snatching it up as quickly as possible before its delicate fabric was ruined by rainwater - his most prized possession.
Somewhere off in the distance, a siren sounded, then two, then three. The man was caring - frequently in ways that didn't involve him in the least, sometimes to his own detriment. He briefly held the victims of whatever unfortunate incident had occurred in his mind, sent out some hope to them (as futile as he knew this was) and snatched up his cap, placing it on his head, being sure to hold onto it well.
Holding his umbrella tightly, he quickened his pace. He knew his mother would be waiting for him, likely looking out the window with concern as the small house glowed invitingly. The man smiled as he remembered his mother. She was a small but rotund woman, with a light smile and a certain knack for cooking with mushrooms. She could've been a doctor, a lawyer, rich and famous and learned, but she had to drop out of school to care for her parents after their unfortunate accident. She'd only planned to stay a year or so, but her mother fell unexpectedly ill. She found her mother lying peacefully with a smile on her face in her bed, a short note saying how proud she had been of her only daughter, expressing her love. An empty bottle of sleeping pills on the nightstand, a half-empty glass of water. His mother had been speechless with rage and loss - her mother had been the most capable member of their family and she was left to be the sole caretaker of her crippled father.
The next part of her story Mario never heard, because she he had broken down into tears and he and his sibling quietly left the room after a quick hug. Thinking of his brother, he hoped he'd kept the van safe - Luigi was notoriously incompetent but Mario had, in a lapse of judgement, allowed his brother to drive the van around a while longer, drumming up some advertisement and then heading home in a few hours. Work at the age of 16 was tough. Self-employment was tougher.
Rounding the corner into their neighborhood, he waved to Toad across the street. Toad was a nice kid; he always meant well, but he wasn't exactly the brightest. Toad saw Mario and yelled, but Mario couldn't tell what he was saying. Crossing the street, he walked up to the kid, who appeared to be panicking.
"It- Mario, they- but I tried- your house-" Toad could barely be understood through the sound of the pouring rain and his speech was muffled enough by his blubbering.
"Calm down, Toad, what's the matter?" Mario's concern was mounting.
"Your house- horrible, horrible accident- s-she was cooking and- the whole place caught on fire, it was awful- and then the house next door caught on fire and- she just- she- no one called the hospital until it was too late, and- and- the fire department couldn't-" Mario bolted down the street. The next fifteen minutes were a blur.
Running.
Crying, rain pouring.
Frantic.
Panicked.
Lights. Lots of them. Cars and vans, lots of them. Three stretchers. Three of them. No house. None of it.
No sirens. No urgency. None of it.
No survivors. None of them.
Everything gone. All of it.
Luigi driving up. Luigi getting out. Luigi gasping. Luigi crying.
Overwhelmed. Dizzy. Confused. Alone.
Everything black. All of it.
Passing out.