A black stretch limousine pulled up the long, beautifully landscaped driveway to a large mansion. The vehicle slowed and rolled to a stop in front of a wide sidewalk leading to the front doors of the mansion. The driver's door opened to reveal a formally dressed chauffeur who rounded the car to the back passenger side door.
When the door was opened, a tall figure stepped out. It was a man in full-body suit of armor made out of a black alloy with green metal plates. A large and strange looking gun was holstered on his back. The man's face was hidden by his green helmet which included a reflective yellow visor. He could see out, but no one could see in.
"Right this way Master Chief," the chauffeur instructed.
The man, whose real name was John, made no verbal reply; but nodded his head in an affirmative. He followed the servant of the mansion's owner to the door which, upon opening, revealed a physically impossibly large interior. The mansion was a good three times the size of what its outer appearances would lead one to believe.
The man led his ward to a large cylindrical chamber in the center of the great hall. He was instructed to step inside the device for "registration".
Though a little wary, the hidden man complied and stepped into the large machine. It was lit from inside by multiple computer screens and status lights. He could not see outside of the machine, but this didn't concern him for very long.
Once he had stepped to the middle of the chamber, one of the screens fuzzed out then returned with the image of a giant hand. It was inside of a pure white glove and was not connected to an arm or body of any sort. A similar hand could be seen in the background.
"Welcome, my guest," the hand spoke, though it had no mouth. "You, Master Chief, have been chosen to participate in a grand tournament of skill. You shall be put up against many different characters from various dimensions to test your skills on the battle field!"
"While I realize that you may be a bit overwhelmed by all of this information at once, I assure you: you will come to no harm during these events," the hand continued. "The Smash Brothers tournament is strictly a test of skills in which selected challengers compete to see who may claim the title of best fighter. Not only do you receive the acclaim and bragging rights, but there is a generous monetary prize for the winners."
"If you choose to participate, you must abide by rules. First, you must stay within the Smash Mansion and its grounds. You will be granted access to Smashville, a small city outside of the compound, but there is a curfew. Those who do not return to the mansion will be exempted from the competition with very few exceptions."
"Second," the hand went on, "Since this is a competition and not actual battle, there are to be no lethal rounds. While the magic surrounding this mansion prevents serious physical harm from occuring, we still tend to be cautious. As such, you should report to the armory after registration to receive your safety rounds. Also, weapons may not be used outside of competition other than practice in the designated area of the grounds. Weapons must also be disarmed if you enter Smashville."
"Finally," the hand stated, "You will be assigned a room. This may be a private room or you may room with another competitor on request. These rooms will have access to private bathrooms, kitchenettes, television, internet, and many other amenities."
"If you agree to these rules, please sign the form on the shelf in front of you, and then step onto the mark on the floor to be scanned. If you do not, please step out of the chamber and your driver will take you home. Good luck!" The transmission ended and the screen returned to its blank white state.
John considered this offer a moment, then stepped forward to sign the form. After he had read the additional instructions on the paper, he moved to the aforementioned mark. The room suddenly glowed red as a beam scanned his body and weapon. These statistics appeared on a smaller side screen.
His 3-D, full-body image appeared on the left side of the screen along with his physical stats. A brief bio followed which overviewed his history. A diagnostic of his weapon was set on the right side. Even though he was used to technology far advanced over what he had so far seen on this planet, John was surprised that the machine could tell everything about him by a simple scan.
Once his data had been stored to some computer files somewhere, he was given the okay to leave the chamber. As he stepped out, the chauffeur waited expectantly for his decision.
"You can leave any time," John told him dismissively.
"Yes, Master Chief, sir," the servant replied a bit dejected.
No sooner had the chauffeur left than another servant arrived to lead him to the armory. This one was not human, but a small creature with a round head and body. Its face was completely black with two red eyes and was half covered by a green cylinder of a hat. The creature's body was the same green as its hat with tube-like arms and legs. It was also extremely short.
"Follow me, sir," it stated, "You must exchange your bullets for combat rounds."
"What are you?"
"I am a Primid, sir," it replied, "I am a vessel for a colony of creatures called Shadow Bugs. I serve Master Hand and Crazy Hand since my creator was destroyed. Now, please follow me."
After exchanging his ammunition for combat rounds, John was assigned a room for the tournament and given a special wrist-worn device. The gadget contained a predictable watch feature as well as a holographic map of the mansion, its grounds, and Smashville. He was also told that it would be like a prepaid credit card if he wished to purchase anything in the city. Everything was to be paid-for for the contestants during the course of the competition.
When he had everything he would need for the competition, he returned to the great hall to check out his future competition. Unfortunately, no one else had arrived yet. John checked his watch and saw that it was only 9:00am. He hadn't realized how early he had gotten here. So, he chose a seat and waited.