Hi everyone! I'm Lyra and this is my first story (on this account, anyway)! I rated it T because I wasn't sure, but there will be *some* strong language and *some* violence, so consider this a sort of warning. I don't own Smash Brothers or Nintendo or any of that. I plan to write quite a few chapters for this story (if I don't run out of steam) and I hope you like it! Leave a review if you feel up to it (you don't have to, of course)! Anyway, please enjoy.


It won't hurt a bit, miss.

Samus Aran awoke, her eyelids heavy with death-like sleep and the faint smell of ammonia and metal in her nostrils. She did not immediately know where she was. Her memory was fuzzy, blurred, like trying to squint through a soiled filter. Outlines of people, masked shapes, a man with a syringe.

It won't hurt a bit, miss.

Utter nonsense.

She groaned into the silence, stretching her limbs until she heard the satisfying cracking of joints. It felt like her entire body had taken a beating – and in fact, maybe it had. She suspected that she had been involved in some kind of struggle, but why? Where? With who? And why had she ended up here?

All she knew could be compiled into three tidy little categories: 1, she was lying on a downy hospital bed; 2, her stomach was knotted up with hunger; and 3, somebody had better tell her what the hell happened, ASAP, or heads would rolling on the floor, neatly detached from their bodies.

Minutes passed. She looked around the room, taking it in with sharp eyes. Fluorescent lights bathed the room in glaring bluish-white. There were monitors, drips, massive computers, things that beeped and flashedin time with her heartbeat; machines sitting around the bed like a collection of old, tired dinosaurs, winking their red eyes at her. It was definitely a hospital room. And there was a window, too, but the blinds were shut so tightly that she couldn't tell if it was night or day. Samus was just wondering whether she should get up and check when the door creaked open and in peeked a young nurse, her corkscrew curls bouncing childishly about her face.

"Oh," she said, seeing that Samus was awake. "Do you need anything, miss?"

Samus cleared her throat. It felt full of hot needles. "Water."

"Okay, I'll be right b –"

"But before you do that," said Samus stonily, "you might as well tell me why the hell I'm here."

The nurse hesitated. "I – I can't really –"

"Then bring me someone who can," growled Samus.

"Alright, I'll fetch him," said the nurse meekly. "One moment please."

She scurried off.

Samus took a few minutes to examine her own body. Fingers, intact. Toes, accounted for. She stretched and flexed languidly, looking for bruises or scratches, something indicative of a struggle. There was an old, yellowing bruise from a nasty fight she'd had last week, but nothing else. She was even wearing the same clothes. It was as if she were whisked unceremoniously out of her day-to-day life and dumped here, in this bare-bones hospital room, as easily as you might pluck a goddamned feather. Which was slightly embarrassing for her, Samus Aran, the most feared bounty hunter in the galaxy – the nightmare figure that space pirates' children whispered ghost stories about at night. Surely she would have fought off anyone who tried to abduct her…or at least tried…

It won't hurt a bit, miss.

Why did that keep coming back to her?

She swung her feet over to the side of the bed and was about to stand up when the door opened again, and a middle-aged man walked in. He was tall (not as tall as Samus), gloved, and self-assured, with an air of warm easiness – the confident stature of a man who never had to raise his voice to get what he wanted. A smile spread over his face like a spill of warm honey, but Samus watched his eyes. They were startlingly dark. The dark of briny seaside rocks; the kind that caused shipwrecks.

"Hello, Samus," he said pleasantly.

She was not taken by this stranger. She said nothing, her lips stiffening.

"I heard you yelled at my favorite nurse," the man continued. She could see shimmering gold makeup around his eyes. "But that's understandable. You're likely confused. The tranquilizer has a habit of clouding up the brain, you know."

His voice tremored, threatening to burst into laughter. Evidently tranquilizing innocent people was hilarious.

"You've been out for about eight hours," he continued, once he'd gotten a hold of himself. "That's pretty light, considering the dose we shot you with. Are you sore? Tired? Dizzy?"

"I'm angry," said Samus simply. She felt hot stabbings of pain in her parched throat.

"Ah, naturally," said the man. He touched his hands to his lips, observing her, and then brought them awkwardly back down. "Well. Let me assure you straight off the bat that I have no intentions to harm you, or even to keep you here. This is a…ehm, a regrettable tactic that we resorted to…drugging people against their will isn't exactly, well, an honorable thing to put on one's resume…"

Samus snorted.

"…but I, or, well, that is to say…we...need you here, and you wouldn't entertain our other pleas for help, so we....decided to grab your attention."

"What pleas for help?" said Samus. She felt fury coil in her stomach, making her clench the bedsheets with her hands. The words came out perfectly calm, but she thought incoherently, how dare you act like this is my fault?

"We sent you many letters and messages," said the man patiently. "We suspect that either they were ignored by you or intercepted."

"What the ever-loving fuck are you talking about?"

"The letters, Samus," the man repeated. Like saying it any more emphatically would suddenly make her remember. "The phone calls, the messages that we passed along through your superiors –"

"I didn't get anything," said Samus, mystified.

"Nothing?"

"Nothing."

They stared at each other for a moment.

"That confirms it, then," said the man. "The messages have been intercepted. We suspected as much. None of the other…ah…candidates responded, either. Which is why we had to take the initiative and bring you here. We're running out of t –"

The young, bouncy nurse opened the tar and poked her head in.

"I have water for Miss Aran," she said in a shrinking voice, and Samus suddenly felt bad for snapping at her before.

"Come in, then," said the man. If he was irritated at the interruption, he didn't show it. He only smiled at Samus more pleasantly than ever. The nurse handed her a bottle of water, labelled shiningly as a brand she'd never heard of. Then she hurried out again, leaving the door ajar.

Samus brandished the water bottle. "I'm giving you one chance to explain everything," she said in a voice close to a snarl. "I want to know what's going on. Give me the 'why's and the 'how's. Throw in a couple of 'who's if you feel up to it. But if you don't explain all this shit right now, I'm going to make you sorry."

"Oh, I don't doubt it," said the man, looking appreciatively at her muscular frame. He closed the door. "May I sit?"

Samus glowered at him, but nestled herself back into the bed, sitting cross-legged while he clambered on opposite of her. Up close, she could see sweat beading on his forehead, dampening his closely sheared curls.

"What do you want to know first?" he asked.

She took a long draught of water, coughed, and said, "Your name."

"Master Hand."

"What?"

"That's my name. Master Hand."

It sounded like a cartoon character. Any fear she might have had of him flew right out the window, whistling as it went. "Why?"

"Are you asking me why that's my name?" he said, looking perplexed.

"Yeah," said Samus. "I mean, you don't just have a nickname like that for no reason."

"It's not a nickname. That's my name."

"Oh, come on."

"I'm not sure what else to tell you, Samus."

"What does your mother call you? Is that like…on your birth certificate? Master, space, Hand?"

The man stared at her, shook his head a little as if shaking away flies, and said, "I sense we're getting a little off track here. Is there anything you want to know, about, you know, the situation?"

She took another drink of water. Her anger rekindled.

"What exactly is the situation? Why have you kidnapped me?"

Master Hand seemed to steel himself. "We…as in all of us"- he made a circling gesture –"are in terrible danger. Every innocent person in every world and planet imaginable."

Coldness swooped through her, like winter air shooting through a porthole.

"Everybody?" Samus said, agape. "How is that possible?"

"Well – nearly everybody. Are you familiar with the concept of parallel worlds?"

She nodded suspiciously.

"They're real. There are thousands of them. We're not sure of the exact amount. Could be that there are an infinite number of them. People from other worlds, completely different worlds, living out their lives right alongside us. And people can cross-drift, like scions in plants. Crossover to other worlds. It's an unstable process, but it can be done."

Samus finished off her water bottle and crumpled it up. She watched him talking, his glossy lips shaping each word as if it were the most important word he'd ever said. An uncomfortable numbness like ice was spreading through her chest.

"What do you mean worlds? Like planets?" she said.

"No, like…universes. Think of everything you know – every planet, every piece of darkness between the stars. That's your world."

"And people can travel between worlds?"

"Only small numbers of people," said Master Hand carefully. "We call them interlopers. They drift through worlds and see everything, experience everything. And at some point –as people tend to do - interlopers developed a…hunger."

Samus pictured a large jaw, opening and closing, opening and closing, dripping ropes of saliva.

"They didn't want to just see the different worlds, or sit back and watch them carry out their own affairs. The interlopers are like…collectors, I guess. They want to collect things, people, experiences. They have vast laboratories, museums…they are fascinated by powerful, sacred, and the forbidden. They wanted to travel through worlds and take things for their collection."

Samus was listening hard. She was trying to picture the interlopers – perhaps she had seen one? She had explored the galaxy, had seen many different types of people and creatures...had she talked to one of these restless strangers, their eyes twitching with longing, their jaw heavy with hunger?

"Things," she said. "What things?"

"People, mostly."

She felt sickness bloom in her, and the acrid taste of bile rose in the back of her throat. She had to work hard to speak. "What's the point of collecting people?"

"For power and pleasure, I assume," said Master Hand. "They want people like you, Samus."

"What - famous people?"

"Powerful people. Legendary people."

"And what would they do with us?" asked Samus, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Inside, her heart was fluttering like a juvenile bird. "Display us like trophies. Polish us on Sundays –"

"We don't know," said Master Hand. "That's what we're trying to find out. We think, since they're only going after warriors and fighters, that maybe…"

"They're making an army," Samus said softly.

"Precisely," said Master Hand. "We don't know why. They might want to take over or destroy other parallel worlds, but that's merely speculation. Even so, you can see why we cannot allow it to happen."

"Yes," said Samus. Ripping open the universe, tearing into it like a ravenous dog – it struck her as profoundly wrong, as grotesquely taboo as matricide. Shutting down worlds, stars blinking out into blackness in the sky. She felt a chill ripple up her spine.

"They want an entire empire. They each want their own world. It's barbaric. Completely insane. They're like children, each wanting a turn with the toy."

"So…what, they're going after every famous fighter?" said Samus in disbelief. "So they can use them like pawns?"

"Not every single fighter," corrected Master Hand. "Only the really powerful ones."

"Including me?"

"We don't know their full plans, but I'm assuming yes."

She sat back, flabbergasted.

"I know," said Master Hand. He reach out as if to pat her comfortingly, but thought better of it; his hand wavered in the air for several awkward moments before resting again on his knee.

"Let me get this straight," said Samus. Her hands were claws on the bed, digging into the mattress. She was sweating. "A bunch of lunatics in wizard hats are rampaging around, trying to build some kind of misfit army."

"Yes. Essentially."

"And you think I can stop this?"

"Yes. With some help."

Samus folded her arms across her chest, regarding him cautiously. "Help from you?"

"Help from the other candidates," said Master Hand, and a honey-sweet smile spread over his face again, as though glorying in his own genius. "They're also here."

"Mass abduction," muttered Samus.

He ignored this comment, saying brightly, "Would you like to meet them?"

"Hold on just a minute," said Samus, and she stood up. Towering over him felt good; like drawing from some ancient, underground power. "You kidnapped all these people, same as you kidnapped me, and you think I'm just going to be magically okay with it?"

"Well –"

"Don't talk anymore," she said severely. "I'm getting really tired of your voice."

Master Hand closed his mouth, looking like he didn't quite know how to proceed. Samus stalked around the room, kicking one of the machines as she went. Pain throbbed in her foot. There was so much to process, and she hadn't been this angry in a very long time.

"I suppose you just stabbed me with a tranquilizer when I wasn't looking," she said abruptly, talking to the wall. "Really heroic. So brave of you, really."

That memory again – it won't hurt a bit, miss. A man with a syringe. She supposed it had been Master Hand, advancing on her without warning. People holding her arms back, their hands like vices, cold as steel traps, her an animal dying in chains –

"We were trying to save you, Samus," said Master Hand earnestly. She whirled on him, her nostrils flaring. "From the interlopers. We figured that if we got to you first –"

"Didn't I just tell you to stop talking?"

" – then we could get the upper hand. Without our intervention, you would have been in their grasp already."

"And there was no better way to do that than drugging me."

"I know you're angry," said Master Hand pleadingly. "But we had to act fast. We didn't have time to explain, and you wouldn't have gone with us otherwise. Please understand. This is a terrible thing to do, but the alternative is so much worse."

She pinched the bridge of her nose with her fingers, taking a calming breath. When she opened her eyes again, she felt a little less angry. "Okay. Say I believe you. What exactly do you want me to do now?"

Master Hand stood up as well. She turned to face him, waiting. His eyes were glittering like beetles in his head, hectic spots of red appearing on his cheekbones in his excitement, a sheen of sweat glinting on his forehead.

"Kill them," he said.

She watched the machines blink red, like a devil's eye opening and closing, opening and closing. Killing was an achievable task. Killing was something she knew how to do.

He watched her hopefully, breathing hard through his nose. She could almost see the steam blowing in hot bursts from his nostrils, like dragon's fire. "Will you?" he asked. Outside, she imagined that the bubbly nurse was listening at the slit of the door, holding her breath.

She sighed. Cracked her thumbs. Said loftily, "Alright. I will."

Master Hand smiled.

"But," she said, popping the word out of her mouth like sweet candy, "if I die doing this, I am holding you personally accountable."

"Me too," said Master Hand. He held out a slightly sweaty hand, and she gingerly shook it. "Good to have you on board, Samus."

She felt a mixture of apprehension and – incredibly – excitement. But she clamped down hard on both of these feelings, assuming a brisk, business-like demeanor.

"I want to meet the others now," she said.

"Let's go, then."

Master Hand opened the door for her. They walked out into a dimly lit hallway, which looked more like a hospital than ever – white cinderblock walls, tile floor, nurses hurrying past with clipboards and status reports.

"You never did tell me why you're called Master Hand," said Samus, looking at him.

Master Hand smiled and said, "Because it is by my hand that all things occur." His eyes seemed to glint like the dull metal of a syringe, and Samus – amidst thoughts of how stupid that was – thought of claw-handed people and heavy jaws, trembling with hunger.

It won't hurt a bit, miss.

She shut the door behind her.