Where to begin, oh where to begin? It's been some time since I've started a new story, yet I sort of know what I want to do with this one. So many options, so little time thanks to my procrastination…And I still have other things to do, too.
What you're looking at here is an experiment. It's something I haven't really tried, a point of view I haven't explored much, if at all. When reading this, you're looking through the eyes of a villain, a viewpoint I don't think I've touched in any of my previous stories. But I believe I can do this. I mean, let's face it, villains rarely get a good back-story. Bowser? King of Koopas who kidnaps a princess. A lot. Ganondorf? First Gerudo male in a century who went mad with power. Dedede? …Heck if I know, honestly. The people of Dreamland seem to be humoring him more than anything.
Anyway, here's a villain who actually has a bit of a history…Though even that is rather muddy to suggest considering the minimalistic nature of his series' stories. You can probably guess who I mean. After all, it's me. If not, well, you'll see soon enough. Let it…Begin!
(Man, I miss that line.)
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I am Andross.
I am a genius.
I am the master of Lylat.
…At least I was. Now I find my mind sealed within a prototype I built many years ago, a shell I saw in a dream meant to keep my body from harm should I fall in combat. It didn't work the first time and it hardly works now. My brain is in a tin can.
I had a huge empire; an entire star system under my control. I had an army, the most elite in the galaxy. I had the fear of my subjects and the aerospace industry under my large ape thumbs. I was invincible!
And then I lost it. Not once, not twice, but two-and-a-half times. One has to understand that the second time freed my soul, banishing me to guard the last remnant of my technological mastery. And then that, too, was taken.
And all of those times, I lost to one person.
That person is now fighting in front of my eyes—nay, lenses—and using my powers to complete a trivial contest. Oh, how I loathe the name, the sheer audacity of the pun-based moniker that rings through my former empire like a lunchtime bell.
Fox McCloud…One day, I will destroy you!
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Fox ducked under Falchion as Marth pulled a swift horizontal slash. The blade passed by Fox's ears by mere millimeters, trimming a few hairs. In response, the vulpine pilot lunged forward with a Fox Illusion, throwing his opponent off balance long enough to swing around and plant a flying leap into the swordsman's face. The Altean stumbled back and responded with a four-slash Dancing Blade. McCloud backpedaled, looking to lure the tactician into the hail of grey squares shooting from the mechanical Andross' mouth.
Marth wasn't fooled. Backing to the opposite edge of Luigi's Mansion, the hero of Archanea took a brief respite. Andross had been released not ten seconds ago, so he—it?—would remain for another twenty seconds or so. Marth knew he didn't have the time to waste waiting for the mechanical head to disappear. Drawing himself up, the nobleman rushed after Fox and prepared a swift stroke of his famed blade.
The fox saw the oncoming attack an prepared to counter. In this moment, he could finish the battle and claim victory. Marth swung, and Fox brought his leg up in a roundhouse—
Ding! Sacred weapon collided with footwear, sending both warriors stumbling. Fox recovered more quickly, though, and grabbed the front of Marth's tunic. Before the pilot tossed his foe into the oncoming squares, he caught a look at the swordsman's eyes. There was neither fear nor anger; rather, respect and congratulations filled the cobalt gaze.
A large metal prism slammed into the fighter, sending the nobleman off the stage to the crowd's right. As the colored explosion signifying the loss of a chance in battle shined forth, the announcer gave the first word spoken in over five minutes. "Game!"
The crowd cheered, prompting the Lylatian to wave with honest thanks. Marth reappeared and the two combatants shook hands, no longer enemies in battle but friends sharing the spotlight. As the crowd chanted both fighters' names, the human and the anthropomorphic fox retreated to the locker room to refresh after their match.
Marth started the conversation, back facing Fox. "It has been some time since we have fought. Good to see you have not dulled in skill."
"Same to you. I honestly don't know how you use such a clumsy weapon with such grace…Not that I mean that offensively, of course."
Marth laughed and wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. "None taken. I do wonder, though, how does it feel to use the aid of your mortal enemy?"
"Come again?"
"I mean, I know that I would be mortified to require the help of Medeus or the black-hearted Gharnef. Surely you must feel strange about requiring the assistance of your father's murderer."
Fox's voice stiffened. "I didn't need his help. I would have been just fine without him."
The nobleman tried to soothe his friend. "Oh, yes, of course. My apologies. I merely meant to say that it must be awkward to accept the assistance of your mortal enemy."
Fox closed his locker, metal scraping against its frame. "It's alright, Marth. Yes, it is…odd, I suppose. But it's not like I haven't accepted it before. The apoptosis bomb and the neutralization device both came from Andross' research. I may not like it, but every so often that ape's lunacy can come in handy."
"Yes, I see. Though—"
"If you're asking about apoptosis and neutralization, I'm the wrong person to ask. Sorry."
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I remember the day I went what some people call "insane". That was the second-best day of my life. I saw her—such a wonderful woman—at her locker in the third-floor corridor of Berrman High School. Vixy Reinard, that beautiful woman, was the most stunning view I'd ever seen. That day, at the very start of her senior year, I swore I would make her mine once she was of age.
At the time I had been working as the janitor, cleaning up the spilled coffee of a neglectful rapscallion. I suppose I should thank the brat, but hell, it's not like the kid's still around.
I spent the entire year watching the girl. She was always helping some student or another, always sacrificing herself. No man in his right mind would give up such a treat. And I nearly got to talk to her at graduation. But the brother of some brat or another bumped into her first. He was a military man, fresh from the Cornerian Academy. His charm stole her away from me. Oh, how I curse the third-worst day of my life—the day Vixy Reinard met James "Fox" McCloud.
She went to college and he into the air-space defense force, but they kept in touch. The two grew ever closer together. Meanwhile I had earned my doctorate in both mechanical and bio-engineering. I managed to work my way into the Cornerian Research and Development department—the third-best day ever—where I was able to keep an eye on all messages flowing into and out of the military. The vixen and the rat exchanged words constantly, in contact for the next ten years while Vixy worked through nursing school and James through the military. On the day my—my!—Vixy graduated, the McCloud fool proposed. I had been silent too long, and she accepted without even considering there was another.
How could she take such a proposal? That James knew nothing but flight, combat, and money, two skills I could surpass with my own extensive influence and intelligence. I watched as, on the second-worst day of my life, the goddess exchanged vows with the brute. She looked so happy, but I know she was hiding her misgivings. I know it!
And so I began to plan a way end her misery. Eight years later, I planted a bomb under that foul beast's car. What I didn't realize was that the man had taken—ugh—their abominable child for a father-son bicycle ride rather than go into work. I also didn't realize that my Vixy's car was broken at the time—most likely a leaking radiator, as those Lupos-brand vehicles were and still are unreliable in that aspect. She got in the car and turned the key, sending an electrical pulse straight to the trigger of the explosive.
The rumors go that they never found her skull. There, on the worst day of my life, I lost all hope of ever seeing her again. I may have overestimated the power and toxicity of the bomb, too, as the entire district was covered in radioactive debris for months. They traced the chemicals and, on the fourth-worst day of my life, exiled me to venom.
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"Five years later, General Pepper received word that strange activities were occurring on the toxic wasteland. Apparently Andross had performed experiments on himself before being exiled, which let him survive the poisonous air and polluted waters. Incidentally, the experiments are also why he ended up as just a giant head and pair of hand, much like an oversized Haunter from the Pokémon world.
"The General sent my father, who had quit the army and started a mercenary team in order to react faster to situations such as that which killed my mom, to investigate. Another member of the team, Pigma Dengar, betrayed the group, though, and Andross killed my father. I imagine that was the happiest day of his life."
As Fox paused for a breath, Marth got up and clapped his hand on the vulpine's shoulder. "I see. Yes, that is a terrible story. I am sorry for your loss, and honestly feel fortunate that Medeus did not desire my honorable mother in such a way. Thank you for sharing your story with me Fox. Now, would you mind if I shared mine?
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Expecting Marth's story? Sorry, but too bad. This is about Assist Trophies, and Marth is not an Assist Trophy. Long story short, though, Medeus died 100 years before his first game, but was resurrected and destroyed Archanea (the continent Marth lives on). His Royal Highness escaped, but his father and mother were murdered.
Anyway, this is basically a story in itself, huh? But I don't intend for this to be over. Nope, Andross still has to make good on his promise. However, should I not finish in time, this will count as my entry. Here's hoping that doesn't happen though, aye?
The next part (should there be one) will pick up the day after the Brawl. I'll get on that once I think on how to implement it. Until then, though, it's good to be back.
Oh, and for mine and PitFTW's contest, the writing of that is in progress. But this is a higher priority. Once this finishes up, I'll get back to serious work on that. It's a large project, though, so I hope you all have some time when you read it.
Until next time, ciao chow.
(I miss that not quite as much.)