[Author's Note:]

This is a one-shot written for LegitElizabethWWEFan's SSB Rated-M Contest. The M-rating is for adult themes, language, mentioned substance abuse, prejudice, and intense violence.

Also, yes, the story was inspired in part by the song Demons, written by Imagine Dragons.

[Disclaimer:]

I do not own, nor do I claim to own, any of the following characters or settings. All rights to Super Smash Brothers and subjects featured within it are the property of Nintendo.

"I'll need to check your weapons here, gentlemen," the bouncer growled plainly.

Ike removed his enormous, two-handed sword, Ragnell, from his back. Marth did the same with the Falchion bound to his waist, passing it to his rugged, blue-haired friend. Ike handed both swords to the bouncer's assistant with a smirk. The grisly doormen stepped sidewards, bidding entry to the scrawny, well-dressed prince and his sizable "bodyguard" of a friend. They stepped through the rustic door and into the pub beneath the worn building.

The pub was as filthy and rundown as everything within a three-mile radius around it. The East-side ghettos of the city were a sharp contrast to the rich, lofty towers that Prince Marth was used to on the West-side of town, but even with dozens of high-class clubs and parties begging for his presence, he had insisted that Ike get him into this place. Probably so he wouldn't be recognized, for a change. Meanwhile, all Ike could think about was what could possibly go wrong.

'This is a mistake.'

Marth led them towards the center of the room. The pub was dimly-lit and boasted earthy colors for its walls and floor. Music, rambunctious laughter and the indistinct voices of people enjoying themselves filled the space. Suspicious characters and potential threats stood out at every turn of Ike's head. It made him nervous. In his army days, he had plenty of experience with a joint like this, but Marth? He didn't belong here. Hell, he didn't even fit in, especially with that rich-boy getup he had on. Was he trying to get noticed?

The prince pulled up a barstool at the bar counter, and Ike did the same, his eyes scanning the pub back and forth like an automated sentry turret. Every so often, one or two patrons would glance over at Marth's hunched back, no doubt noticing the gaudy cape draped over his shoulders. They would turn to the others seated around their table and whisper amongst themselves like gossiping housewives. Ike even saw a few attractive women eyeing him up and down. He jutted his elbow nonchalantly into Marth's arm. Marth turned his head and Ike nodded in the general direction of the girls enjoying the view. Marth just rolled his eyes.

"Joke's on them," he scoffed casually.

"Who said I was calling her out for you?" he replied. Marth smiled. Ike glanced back at the table. One of the girls, a busty blonde, was in the process of scrawling something on a small snippet of paper. Marth caught notice.

"Ugh, fuck," he whispered. Ike's lips unfurled into a sympathetic grin.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of it," he said.

The blonde strode confidently towards Marth, who just sighed and attempted (unsuccessfully) to flag down the bartender. Ike stood up to meet her, creating confusion in her expression. He raised his hand apologetically.

"Don't bother. He's gay."

The girl backed away, embarrassed (and quite visibly disappointed, too). Marth blushed, his eyes bubbling with annoyance. Ike avoided the searing gaze of his friend for as long as he could get away with.

"What?" he finally asked, innocently. "It was easier than lying."

"You have no sense of diplomacy, do you?" Marth sighed, exasperated. Ike sat down.

The bartender strode over, apparently sensing the tension between the two of them. He was an elfish-looking figure swabbing a glass, moreso to occupy his hands than to actually clean. He wore a light green, button-down shirt and pale khakis; a forest-colored apron covered the front of his body. Long, straight locks of blonde hair framed his face, protruding out from underneath an oddly-shaped green hat.

The bartender, "Link" (according to his name tag) was fair-skinned – something Marth had undoubtedly noticed – and quite attractive, even in the eyes of someone as straight as Ike, although his expression was oddly vacant as he approached.

"Can I get you two lovebirds anything?" he inquired, barely enough sarcasm in his voice to imply he was actually making a joke. Ike chuckled and Marth rested his head in his hand.

"A dry martini. Straight up. No garnish, please," he wheezed. The bartender nodded and turned to the prince's companion.

"Scotch. Two ice cubes."

"Scotch and martini, coming right up."

Before long, he had returned with two filled glasses. Ike couldn't help but notice Link's eyes linger on the prince. Unfortunately, the cryptic bartender left to fill another order before the swordsman could discern whether the glimpse was purely inquisitive (like that of the other patrons) or…

"Does your dad know?" he asked, clutching the glass filled with amber liquid. Marth took a long sip before answering.

"Yes," he grunted wearily. "I came out to him about a month ago. We…haven't really talked since then."

Ike swirled his drink, unable to draw from his own experience. His dad died when he was very young. He supposed that rejection by one's father was worse than simply never knowing him. Marth kept on guzzling his martini, nothing much to say. Ike decidedly waved Link over and whispered in one of his pointy ears.

"Another round at my expense."

Link nodded and started to move away, but Ike grabbed his forearm, halting him.

"Oh...he's single," he added with a nod towards the prince. He expected Link would look at him as if he had snakes popping out of his nostrils. Instead, the green-garbed bartender just crept upright, and, with a wry smile, sauntered out of view.

Silence fell again as Ike desperately fished for something to discuss.

"How's work?" he finally asked.

Marth's head cocked to the side, unimpressed.

"We're getting wasted in a filthy-ass bar on the East-side of town, and you want to talk about work?"

Ike shrugged. It's not as if the prince was making any effort to engage.

"Fine! We'll just sit here quietly and poison ourselves until one of us falls over and the other has to carry him home," he said dryly.

Marth couldn't help but chuckle, even though his friend hadn't said it jokingly. Ike smiled. He had missed the sound of the prince's laugh.

"Sure hope I'm the one that passes out," Marth replied frivolously. "Alright…I'll tell you about work. I sit on my ass every day managing my father's empire, listening to reports, receiving updates on projects and developments that I don't care about…I think that's it."

Ike smiled. "Sounds like you're living the dream."

"What about you? I know you just got back from deployment. Find a job yet?"

Ike frowned. He had enlisted without the proper expectation of what he'd have to do…the sacrifices he'd have to make. Now, he couldn't be like everybody else and just come home "okay." Not with the memories…the nightmares...the horrors of war had changed him, and not in a good way. Sometimes he was afraid of how he might react when threatened. Marth stared at him expectantly for an answer.

"Uh, not yet. Ex-military aren't exactly in high demand for their skills here," he mumbled.

Marth looked puzzled. "Why do you ask about my work, anyway?"

"I have an interest in politics?" the swordsman lied.

"Bullshit," Marth retorted. Ike shrugged. They both knew all too well that he was a terrible liar.

"Y'know, I do need a new bodyguard," the prince admitted with a wink. Ike rolled his eyes, but Marth was serious on this one. "My last's contract just closed, about a month ago. You have excellent combat training and are looking for a job right now…c'mon! Admit it, you've basically been doing the job since we got here!"

Ike just rolled his eyes and turned his head.

The history of their relationship was jagged. He had known Marth for two years before the rising prince came out of the closet to him. Despite their closeness, the news shook Ike, and Marth's emotional fragility made it difficult to handle. To make matters worse, Marth's sexuality complicated their friendship when he persisted in hitting on Ike.

Determined that the prince would never accept his word alone, Ike staged a devilish scheme to prove his sexual orientation once and for all. The prank involved Marth "catching" him in bed with Lucina, one of Marth's ex-girlfriends. Ike's sense of humor was never one of his strong suites, and what was supposed to be a good time with laughs all around turned into Marth locking himself in his room, sobbing profusely. Ike felt terrible, but the prince ultimately stopped flirting with him. They had since started to rebuild their frail friendship.

"I'll consider your offer," Ike said. The prince shook his head. Obviously, one of them thought it was a good idea. But maybe Marth was right; maybe they could work closely without it being tense or awkward. Hell, it could even benefit their friendship, couldn't it?

"Well, consider it quick. I need a new bodyguard either way."

Before long, Link reappeared with another batch of drinks in tow. A small piece of paper accompanied Marth's. Ike watched as the prince looked up at the bartender quizzically, who, to his surprise, winked at him before scuttling off again. Marth glanced down at the piece of paper, silently reciting the phone number to himself. Ike fought back a smirk and delved into his second glass of scotch, but in his excitement, he must have created enough of a fuss to catch Marth's attention.

He laughed as Marth couldn't seem to decide between a comical smile and a curious frown.

"Did you just—?"

The rugged swordsman shook his head and shrugged, forcing away a smile with much difficulty. His friend lifted the fresh martini to his lips, and Ike could have sworn it looked a little lighter in his hand than before.

Ike's gaze made another pass across the pub, his body fighting the grogginess brought about by the alcohol. The crowd had thinned out considerably since he last checked, but it was still fairly noisy inside. A peculiar couple of thuggish individuals caught his eye, lounging at a table near the door. They seemed fairly involved in a conversation, but every so often, the man sitting on the far side of the table would glare at Ike, making him uneasy.

The stranger wore an indignant grimace on his face. His eyes were a reddish-yellow, and they instilled fear in Ike's, piercing the swordsman's calm glance. He wore a shiny, expensive-looking suit and his bright-orange hair had been slicked back into thick curls. From his gloomy, chocolate-colored skin, Ike quickly inferred that he was of Gerudo descent. The other individual sitting at the table had his back to Ike, and was significantly larger than any of the other patrons in the bar. He was apparently in the process of giving a passionate lecture to the Gerudo, judging by the copious movement from his hands and the guttural sounds emanating from his jaw.

Ike stared intently at the two shady characters. He didn't want any trouble, but it was important that he send a clear message to anyone who looked suspicious. Eventually, the Gerudo nodded his way, stopping the monstrous individual across from him mid-sentence. The beast of a man turned his head, and Ike had to fight the urge to jump as he was greeted by one of the most vile, abhorrent faces he had ever seen in his life.

The huge man had red humanoid eyes and the snout of a boar, but the rest of him screamed "reptile." Ike had seen a lot in his life, but nothing as nightmarish as the creature staring squarely at him right now. The beast sneered, studying Ike as if he were a meal, which only made the shaky swordsman even more nervous. Ike's stare was broken when Marth nudged him. He turned to his friend, who abruptly noticed his pale complexion.

"…you okay?" the prince asked, concerned. Ike shook his head dismissively.

"Fine," he lied. The last thing Marth needed to hear right now was that he thought two disgusting criminals were plotting to kill them both. 'Stop it. You're being paranoid,' Ike hissed internally. Another round of drinks appeared almost miraculously as he returned his focus to the bar. He looked accusingly over at Marth, now nonchalantly sipping out of his 3rd glass as he tried to hide his involvement. Ike just shook his head.

"No, I'm buying tonight, remember?"

"Ah-ah, that was before you said you were unemployed," the prince replied with a light slur. Ike looked at his tipsy friend precariously.

"I think you might have had a little too much to drink, friend."

Marth rolled his eyes slowly, trying to coordinate an expression of his own disdain. Instead, they twitched and fell out of focus. Ike sighed, slightly frustrated by his own lack of responsibility. His friend was certainly more than a little bit drunk. Between Marth fighting to keep his eyes from drooping and the two creeps eyeballing the pair of them from across the pub, he reckoned it was probably a good idea to start leaving. The night began its trek into the late hours and the bar was nearly empty by now, bringing about a sobering anxiety for the intoxicated swordsman. Ike decisively forced himself to his feet, earning a frown from his friend.

"Where are you going?"

He met Marth's confused eyes; he must have known by now that something was up, but Ike clung tightly to his worry, forcing it to remain his own.

"I'm just gonna use the restroom real quick. I'll be right back."

Marth's lips curled into a grin. He raised his eyebrows, waving the snippet of paper like a flag in Ike's face.

"Hey, no hurry, right?"

Ike smiled, and, without a second look, strode towards the obscured hallway in the back corner of the pub. Somehow, he could feel the eyes of the two conspicuous men follow his every move, and he only managed to relax upon entering the amenities. The bathroom was filthy and uninviting, even by East-side standards. Small puddles of water, piss and vomit adorned each toilet and its immediate surroundings in varying combination. Ike fought his stomach's urge to contribute to the mess as he strode cautiously over to the least dirty-looking urinal he could find. It was only after he had unbuttoned his pants and unsheathed his junk that he realized he wasn't alone.

A few urinals down, eyeing him as subtly as possible, was a large, incredibly obese man. The stranger's disgusting face resembled that of a penguin's, and he was clothed in harsh, vibrant robes. Ike couldn't keep his mind away from the notion that he was relieving himself in the presence of what was, quite probably, a pimp.

The man was looming stoically against the urinal in front of him, but Ike could only hear the sound of his own stream. He avoided making eye contact as he finished up, and to his surprise, the stranger left almost immediately.

Ike felt the tiniest glimmer of relief as he rinsed off his hands. That is, until he heard Marth's high-pitched cries of distress emanating through the tiled walls of the washroom. He hurried back into the main area of the pub and gaped in shock at the sight that greeted him.

The Gerudo had violently shoved Marth over the bar counter, pinning him at the chest with an intimidating, armor-plated forearm. The larger, beast-like thug watched his partner work beside him and grinned fiendishly at the sight of Marth's squirming. The penguin-faced man that Ike had encountered mere minutes ago was pacing carefully on the other side of the room. He was the first of anyone to notice Ike's return from the washroom. The only other occupant still inside the pub was Link, who lay unconsciously on a table near the bar he had been tending. Truthfully, Ike was terrified.

The despicable Gerudo pushed his bladed gauntlet uncomfortably close to the prince's fleshy throat. Based on his facial expression, he was quite displeased.

"I'm gonna ask nicely one more time, you queer bitch," the chocolate-skinned man growled menacingly. Marth's face clenched as sweat and tears trickled down his fair complexion. The prince may have grown used to threats in his life, but it had always been different to Ike. To hear some cock-headed nobody insult Marth to his face…call him queer no less…

Ike's blood boiled and his nervousness converted into rage. Mechanically, he was powerless to stop the next words out of his mouth.

"Hey, leave him alone!"

The Gerudo eased his vicious hold on Marth, turning his gaze towards the brash individual that had so freely addressed him. Ike's eyes darted between the red-haired man, the beastly thug, and the obese penguin in rapid succession, tactically compiling a plan. His eyes returned to the Gerudo staring him down. After a brief bout of silence, the appalling character finally broke into a chuckle, then a full-on laugh. His cronies chuckled nervously with him. Ike looked at Marth, scanning him over for any serious injury. The prince returned his glance with a frantic look and simply mouthed, "No."

Finally, the Gerudo sighed heavily and addressed his reckless interrupter.

"And just who the hell are you?"

"Ike. Son of Greil," the bold swordsman smirked, determined not to show any sign of weakness or worry.

"Ganondorf," the red-haired thug seethed through his teeth. "The pleasure is yours."

"What pleasure?" Ike said airily with a snide grin.

Ganondorf's oily face burned with fury. He let up his grip on the delicate prince and strode towards his newly acquired target. Marth slunk beneath the barstools, desperately shaking his head. Ike just stared at him inquisitively. Who was this ginger-headed punk, and what business did he have with Marth? Questions flooded through Ike's mind, but they didn't linger for very long. All that mattered now was that this "Ganondorf" had forcefully attacked and insulted his friend – a prince, no less – and for someone as feral and impatient as Ike, that was reason enough to spill blood across the aging maple floors of this establishment.

"You seem like a sensible man, so I'll level with you," Ganondorf grunted, rapidly closing the distance between him and Ike. "These are my boys, Bowser and Dedede – oh, but he'd prefer that you address him as King D."

Ike stifled a laugh as the Gerudo had to refrain from rolling his eyes. This monologue had to have sounded better in his head.

"You see, I'm a drug dealer."

Ike's heart nearly stopped. The rage disappeared momentarily and his sharp, blue eyes glared at Marth, who was still cowering behind the barstools. The prince's eyelids drooped guiltily.

"Your friend here owes me some green for our services, and we're just here to…collect. So why don't you just clear on out of here and maybe we'll let him go once all debts are paid."

Ike's trademark smirk had long since vanished. Between Marth, the situation, and the bloated, trash-talking shit in front of him – he was not amused. At all. Ike closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and allowed the anger, focus and adrenaline to seize him. A three-vs-one was not an easy fight, even for someone as proficient in combat as now, the only chance of avoiding a tussle and getting out of the pub alive was a show of force.

"Alright," the brooding swordsman said, finally opening his eyes.

He skirted lightly around Ganondorf, towards the bar where Marth had taken refuge. As expected, Ganondorf followed over his left shoulder, unwilling to let his agitator just walk away from him. Ike stopped right at the bar's edge, his back still turned to face the Gerudo. Ganondorf was very close behind him now; his hot, putrid breath streaked bitterly across Ike's neck.

"But I have a better idea…"

In a single motion, Ike grabbed the red-haired thug next to him by the back of the head and forcefully slammed his crooked snout into the wooden counter of the bar. The Gerudo's startled howl almost outsounded the obnoxious crunch of fracturing cartilage. Marth gasped from under the counter as Ganondorf stumbled backward, both hands grasping his nose tenderly as blood spurted from it. After a few seconds, he managed to quell his pained groans long enough for Ike to finish his thought.

"Now, why don't you and your glorified lap-bitches fuck off…or I'll see to it that you leave with more than just a broken nose?"

Bowser and Dedede stood paralyzed. Ike's nerve…his audacity to attack their boss… based on their horrified, empty gazes, it was quite apparent that no one had ever done this before. They returned their focus to Ganondorf, who was still massaging his swelling face.

"You idiots!" the crippled Gerudo growled through his cupped palms. "Kill him!"

Even with a grim demonstration of his intent, Ike was unsuccessful in preventing an altercation. He frowned as the words crossed Ganondorf's lips, and postured his fists in front of him, striking a combat stance that was both casual and experienced. Dedede charged first.

The fat penguin-of-a-man threw both arms out – it was immediately obvious that he had very little experience in close-quarters combat. Ike ducked beneath the pimp's right and countered with a vicious hook. Dedede chuckled as the blow connected harmlessly in the giant folds of fat across his midsection. Barely escaping a follow up haymaker from his bulbous foe, Ike grabbed the wooden table immediately behind them both, lifting it with all of his might.

"Time for a change of tactic," he muttered to himself softly.

In one fell movement, the table came toppling onto Dedede's head, splintering into several pieces at the force of impact. The fat around the penguin man's abdomen cushioned him from anything short of gunfire, but his head was still as fragile as anyone's. He stumbled, shaking the ground slightly with each step, and Ike seized his opportunity. The swordsman slid beneath the fat figure's frame and, with every ounce of force he could harness, jammed his right knee square in between Dedede's legs. With his hands clasped tenderly around his groin, the freakish character finally hit the floor, careening into multiple tables on his way. The muffled groans and curses flying from his mouth were nearly unintelligible.

Ike was on the ground, too, but his duty to protect Marth mandated that he not remain there for long. He staggered to his feet, trying to regain his bearings as quickly as possible. It was abundantly clear that Dedede would not stand up for quite a while, let alone finish the fight, but Ganondorf and Bowser were still on their feet, the latter of whom was still in prime condition. Ike turned sullenly towards the monstrous Koopa, gauging the odds of bringing him down quickly; much to his satisfaction, the beastly character was gaping in fright.

"F-fuck this shit, man!" Bowser cried, his voice a little higher and shakier than Ike had expected from someone so outwardly imposing. In but a moment, Bowser was out the door to the pub, never to be seen again.

"You fucking coward!" Ganondorf shouted after him, still wincing from his swollen nose.

"Looks like it's you and me, shitface," Ike scowled, hiding his nerves.

Ganondorf slowly turned around. His face was enduringly red now, and the bridge of his nose was swollen and snapped in two directions. His eyes were misty from the pain, and blow was still oozing from his newly acquired wound. He reached into the pocket of his suit jacket.

"No," he growled, his mouth breaking into a slight grin. "It's just me."

Ganondorf removed his hand, now armed with a large, glistening handgun. The barrel of it was pointed straight at Ike, whose expression paled.

"Any last words?"

The gun fired, and Ike felt a stabbing pain in his left shoulder as he stumbled to his knees. His right hand shot to the bullet wound instinctively, shaking from the pain as it frayed outward like electricity. The pain faded as the last of his adrenaline coursed through his veins, fueling the flames of his frenzied rage. He looked up. Ganondorf had been thrown off balance by Marth, who had kicked him in the back of his left knee. The Gerudo stumbled, now taking aim with his firearm at the prince beneath the barstools. Ike darted across the pub like a bolt of lightning, frightening Ganondorf with a feral shriek.

The swordsman blanked out. The last thing he could remember was rushing down the Gerudo thug who, at the time, was threatening Marth with a gun. Ike opened and closed his eyes slowly in an attempt to regain awareness. He was laying on his back against the floor of the pub. The frail prince was draped over his right arm, weeping. Ike's left shoulder still ached from the gunshot he had received from Ganondorf…Ganondorf! Ike jerked upward, almost disturbing Marth in the process, he glanced around his sprawled body frantically, searching for that red-haired son of a—

"…I-Ike?" Marth sniffed. The swordsman's eyes halted on his friend, whose eyes and face were red from the tears. "I thought you were dead. I…"

Ike blinked, a small, reassuring smile painting his face. It broke when he remembered why he had sat up so abruptly. "Where's—?"

Before he could finish, Marth's expression paled, and his eyes darted behind the swordsman before looking away in horror. Ike turned around.

The remains of an average-sized adult Gerudo male sat inches away from his left arm. Ganondorf had been torn open by a tremendous force, his entrails spilling out over his abdomen. The body and clothing became more and more tarnished as Ike's gaze crawled towards his neck. The head was completely gone, replaced with a sunken mass of flesh, splintered bone, and gooey pink solids. Both legs were intact, but the body's right arm had been twisted into an unholy position. The left arm had extra corners where there should have been none. The handgun was nowhere to be found.

Ike gasped, fighting back the urge to vomit, and yet he couldn't look away from the mess that only one person could have created. The blood and guts adorning his hands and forearms confirmed it.

He began to sob in shock and despair, the trauma of his time in the military finally realized. Marth pulled him into a tight hug, and Ike buried his eyes into his friend's cloak.

"It'll be okay, Ike. Link called the police, you didn't do anything wrong—"

Marth's words became garbled and lost coherence; Ike couldn't escape the nightmare he had awoken to. He promptly pushed Marth away from his arm.

"S-stay away from me! I don't—want to hurt you…" Ike hid his tearful face, but Marth pulled his hand away gently and gave him a stare full of grace and kindness.

"No, Ike. You were protecting me…whether you knew it or not all the while…"

Ike's eyes faltered. He couldn't think – he could barely breathe – and he suddenly remembered what Ganondorf had said about the prince before…

"What did he mean by, 'you owe him some green for his services'?"

Marth's gaze went dark, as if he were physically-seized by the evil and hatred of Ganondorf himself.

"About four months ago, I…I developed an addiction," he said with difficulty. "I kept up my drug payments, but I was so out of control…and my mother started getting suspicious. I decided I had to end it. For good. Ganondorf...I paid him everything that I owed, but he still got greedy. He started to hunt me, and then my bodyguard quit on me, and you came back, and—"

Tears overtook his explanation, but Ike understood.

"I used you, Ike. I-I'm sorry, I understand if you don't want to see me ever again…"

Ike shook his head. It was the prince's turn to cry on his shoulder. "No, Marth. We're both human. We've both fallen, but none of that matters now..."

Ike hugged him close and Marth hugged back. They entered the bar from two different worlds, but they'd leave in the same. He wordlessly forgave Marth for hiding his demons, just as Marth had wordlessly forgiven him.

"Why?" Marth asked. Ike simply smiled back at him.

"Because I fight for my friends."