Just touched this up a little bit, nothing major. Sorry if the quotation marks are retarded. They got reduced to the standard " marks, so I had to go enter the real things back in by hand.

Prologue: Arrival

"Mr. O'Donnell?"

The voice of his sole companion roused him from his sleep. He blinked a few times and wiped the sleep out of his good eye.

"Yeah?"

"We're here."

Wolf glanced out the window, trying to see exactly where "here" was, but he was mostly thwarted by the darkness. He could, however, barely make out an ornate, Gothic mansion, mainly because of the few scattered lanterns casting an eerie glow on it. It wasn't the biggest building he'd seen in his life, but it was pretty high on the list. Its owners had to be rich, considering they could operate such a huge building, hire a top-of-the-line jet to carry him—one person—a quarter of the way across the planet, and still be able to offer that ridiculous sum of prize money.

"Alright." He unstrapped his seat belt and stood, paused to stretch for a moment, then turned to go to the storage compartment. He got his bags—two large ones to carry, one in each hand, plus one to hang over his shoulder—and exited the jet, yawning.

"Need help with that?" the pilot asked.

"I'm fine," he said.

The pilot hesitated. "Then... I'll be going now, alright?"

"Go ahead."

Another hesitation. "Good luck."

"Whatever."

The pilot stepped back into the tiny jet and started up the engines. Nostalgia rushed through Wolf as he heard the familiar sounds of a takeoff—the hum of the engines and the whine of the air the vehicle displaced.

Wolf was alone now, and, contrary to what he had originally thought, being alone didn't make him feel any better. He had come all of this way, and there went his only way back. He missed the reassuring feeling of having his own personal ship nearby, but it, like most of his life, was gone, reduced to a painful memory whose sole purpose was to torment him in times like these.

His ears twitched as he picked up footsteps. Someone was approaching him. Despite his exceptional vision, he couldn't see whom it was.

"Welcome," came a stuffy sounding voice. The footsteps stopped, and a figure appeared a few meters away. There was a moment of silence.

"Well," the voice started again, "you're very talkative."

"Can you just show me to my room?" Excessive formalities always irritated Wolf. They did nothing but waste time, during which he could be sleeping. It was late, and his arms were already tired of their burden.

"Fine. Your name, please."

"Wolf O'Donnell."

The man clicked on a flashlight, illuminating a clipboard in his hands. From the resulting light, Wolf could see that the man was a gray-headed furless. He rifled through the clipboard for a moment before saying, "Very well, follow me."

Wolf followed the man towards the Gothic building, stumbling a few times in the darkness and often pausing to adjust his grip on the cumbersome bags. The man—butler, he assumed—approached the door. There was a brief jingle of keys and the sound of a key turning, then the door slid open.

He entered large, dimly-lit room, sporting several doors. The man led him to the right side of the room and opened a door there, leading him into a corridor with doors scattered on both sides. He walked for what seemed like ages before the man stopped and pressed a button on the wall. The two opposing doors here were metallic and larger than the rest. Elevators.

There was a chime as the elevator opened, then Wolf followed the man inside, and watched as he pressed a button marked with a "5," causing it to light up. Wolf set his bags down and flexed his fingers. The things had gone numb.

"You're on the fifth floor," the man said, as if it wasn't obvious. "You'll be in room 522, and your roommate is..." He glanced back down at his clipboard. "Marth. He should already be here. You're the last person to arrive." The last sentence was full of scorn, as if Wolf was late and he was to blame for it.

Wolf held his tongue to avoid a biting comeback. The man had a serious superiority complex.

The elevator chimed again. He picked his bags up and followed the man once more. They came to an abrupt halt at one of the doors to the left, and a rectangular card was thrust into Wolf's hands.

"This is your room key. Don't lose it." He sounded as if he had said the same thing a thousand times. "We will wake you tomorrow and have a meeting after breakfast. Good night." He turned and walked off.

It seemed like Wolf wouldn't get to sleep in peace after all.

When the footsteps faded, he pressed the key card into the lock and opened the door. The room was dark, and there was a subtle snoring sound emanating from inside. He fumbled around in the darkness for a suitable place to set his bags, and dropped them in the first clear, out-of-the-way place he found. He located his bed without incident, crept on it without getting underneath the covers, and drifted off to a dreamless sleep.

A loud banging reverberated through the room, dragging Wolf out of his slumber.

"Wake up!" someone shouted. It came from outside.

Wolf groaned, stretched, and ambled out of the bed, wiping the sleep out of his good eye in the process.

"Wake up!" The voice startled him again.

"I'm up!" he called back, a little louder than necessary.

He rubbed his eye once more. The lights were already on. The room was medium sized and rectangular, more deep than wide, with furniture—a dresser and a bed—on each side. There was another door at the back of the room which probably led to a bathroom. All in all, it looked like a room two quarreling siblings might share.

Wolf saw his roommate's bags, but not their owner. Great, he thought. That's one less person to deal with. Then, realization hit him: he had no idea where he was supposed to go. Growling to himself, he went over to his own bags and picked up the one that contained his clothes and toiletries. A good shower would help to wake him up and clear his head, and maybe by the time he was done, his roommate would show up.

On his way to the bathroom, Wolf passed by his dresser, and something on it caught his eye. A piece of paper stood there, leaning against the mirror, with tidy script splayed across its surface. He picked it up and began to read.

"Dear Roommate,

I apologize for not being here, but I'm used to getting up early. I know this is your first time at this tournament, so on the back of this letter, I've written directions to the cafeteria, which is where we eat and where we hold meetings. They will probably wake you around 7:00, and the meeting starts at 8:00, so you have an hour to get down there and eat breakfast. Good luck.

Sincerely,

Prince Marth"

He set the letter down. That "prince" Marth was probably just the typical guy who thought he was too important to waste his time on the newbie. Sure, he'll be fine. Just ditch him, leave him some vague directions, and go be first in line like always. Spoiled prince.

Wolf walked into the bathroom and proceeded to take his shower, tired of his roommate before he met him. So far, the tournament hadn't impressed him, but it was all he had, and there was no turning back now.

Chapter One: Confrontation

Wolf grasped the letter between two fingers, squinting at the directions on the back side.

Second floor...

He headed towards the elevator and jabbed at the button marked with a down arrow. Moments later, the elevator opened, revealing a young, blonde-haired lady, dressed in pink. Wolf stepped in and looked away from her, noticing in the process that the button marked with a "2" was already lit.

"Hey," she said.

He didn't respond.

"You must be one of the new guys. Where's your roommate?" she asked.

"He went down earlier."

"Oh... He left you all on your own?" She sounded like an over-concerned mother worrying over a pup.

He nodded. "He left directions... I guess."

"Oh. Well, that's good. They always pair up the new people with the veterans."

The elevator chimed and opened. He stepped out, and so did she.

"Going to the cafeteria?" he asked.

She nodded. "Mmhm."

He folded the sheet of paper and crammed it into his pocket."Mind if I tag along?" he asked.

"Not at all," she said. "My name's Peach. If you need help with anything, let me know."

"Alright." He hesitated. "I'm Wolf." At least he wouldn't have to follow those directions anymore.

"Ah, Wolf, you say? You must be with those other-"

"Peach!" someone yelled.

Wolf jumped and whirled around, bringing up his hands and baring his teeth on instinct. A mustached man dressed in blue and red was the one that had startled him. The man threw up his hands in shock.

"Err..." Wolf said, still alert. A tense silence enveloped the hall.

Peach broke it with a giggle that sounded a little forced. "There'll be plenty of time for that later," she said. "Lighten up."

Wolf relaxed, bit by bit, his heart still pounding. "Don't sneak up on me like that."

Peach stepped between Wolf and the newcomer. "Hey, Mario, this is Wolf," she said, waving her arms at the lupine. "Wolf, this is Mario."

"Pleased to meet you," Mario said in a heavily accented voice, extending a gloved hand.

"Likewise," he said, trying to sound sincere. He extended his hand to grasp Mario's, taking care not to accidentally scratch him.

"Come on, Wolf," Peach said, "you can sit with us."

"Alright," he said, thinking that the motherly lady and the accented, big-nosed man couldn't possibly be too popular. Maybe sitting with them would bring him some peace.

They entered the cafeteria, an enormous room furnished by several rectangular tables with a serving line in the back. Only a few of the tables were occupied, most of them bearing only a few people, except for one, which had more people at it than the rest of them combined. When he saw where they were headed, Wolf groaned.

"Something wrong?" Peach asked.

"No... Just... Can I go ahead and get in line?"

"You don't want to meet the others first?"

"No... no, I really don't." His eyes strayed back over to that overpopulated table.

Peach paused for a moment, fidgeting. "Can I come with you?"

"Er..." The request caught him completely off-guard. "Sure."

He started off towards the line, Peach walking beside him.

"Is there anything bothering you?" Peach asked.

He wanted to tell her to mind her own business, but he knew that would be a bit rude. "You could say that," he said, grimacing.

"Anything I can help with?"

"No."

"Are you sur—"

"Yes."

Peach opened her mouth, then closed it. "Alright then."

They entered the line, with Peach in front, and an awkward silence came over them. Wolf didn't try to break it; it was far more comfortable than their conversation had been. The line was moving rather slow, and he took advantage of that, letting his eyes wander around the room, sizing up all the contestants. There was a young lady with brown hair, a dinosaur-looking thing, a blue hedgehog... There were all sorts of people, but none of them looked like they were great fighters. Maybe winning would be easy. After a few minutes of analyzing everyone in the room, he turned his gaze to the entrance of the cafeteria. A few more contestants entered as the line shortened: a pink puffball, an enormous penguin, and Fox McCl-

Fox?!

He flattened himself against the wall, his breathing quickening. Fox wasn't supposed to be here. Wolf had left behind his entire world when he came. There were supposed no more problems to drag him down, no bounty on his head, and no old hatreds to rekindle. It was supposed to be a new start.

Or so he had thought. Somehow, part of his old life had followed him, and that part was tied closely to the problems he came here to get away from.

"Peach, can I get in front of you?" he asked.

"Er... Sure."

"Try to hide me," he whispered, darting in front of her.

"Hrm?"

"Just do it!"

"I can't..." She waved her arms around. "Hide you from what?"

"Fox!" Cowering against the wall, he didn't dare turn around to see if Peach had done as he asked. He held his breath, afraid that its sound would reveal his presence.

Footsteps. He heard footsteps. Someone was approaching. He hoped it wasn't him.

"...need to chill out," someone said.

"The Hands were okay," a different voice—this one much more familiar—said, "but this Tabuu guy... I don't know. He just... Something doesn't seem right about him."

Wolf knew that voice. He would recognize it anywhere. Shrinking against the wall, he knew it was too late. A confrontation would be unavoidable.

"You're just used to 'em. Give the new guy a chance," the first voice said.

"Eh... Whatever. Hey, Peach—oh, hey, who is that? New guy?"

"Uhm..." Peach started.

Wolf knew she wouldn't be able to save him. His options were limited: he could wait for Fox to push past Peach, probably resulting in being called a coward; he could make a mad dash out of the room and demand to be send back, back to his old problems; or he could just confront the vulpine and hope for the best. The latter was the least problematic, but it was also the most difficult. He took a deep breath, prayed to whatever gods there were for the best, and stepped away from the wall.

Upon turning around, he saw Fox, looking as young and strong as ever, and his companion, that annoying bird. It seemed to take Fox a few seconds to realize who the lupine was.

"W—Wolf?" he said, his face contorted into an unreadable mixture of expressions.

Wolf would have payed to see it—the great Fox McCloud, completely stunned. "Hey, Fox," he said, trying to maintain his composure and sound nonchalant. His gaze shifted over to the bird. "And you."

"What are you doing here, fur-face?" the bird asked, not quite as affected as Fox.

"I came here to get away," Wolf said, emphasizing the words a bit more than necessary. His gaze slid back to Fox. "And to win, of course." He always ended up saying something arrogant like that whenever Fox was around. He tried to blame it on his want of superiority. Since he couldn't actually be superior, he had to rely on words, and he couldn't afford to show weakness, not here, not to Fox.

The vulpine nodded his head. "So, things haven't been going too well for you after—"

Wolf glared at him and made the most threatening noise he could muster.

"Oh... Jeez," Fox said, backing away a bit and raising his hands in an I surrender motion. "Sorry." At least he sounded sincere.

A long moment passed through which there was no conversation. Poor Peach looked mystified.

It soon became Wolf's turn to get his food. Once he had his tray, he stopped to wait for Peach before proceeding to her table, but Fox intercepted her and kept her glued to his side, talking with her about something. When she started walking again, Fox was right at her side with his tray full as well. They approached him at the same time.

"Hey, Wolf," Fox started, "Do you... you want to sit with us?" He held his tray in one hand and gestured towards himself and Falco with the other.

There was something strange about his voice that Wolf couldn't quite take in, something that caused him to hesitate, to not give an immediate "no." He couldn't sit with Fox, though. It just wasn't right. The vulpine was supposed to be his enemy. Besides, he had already promised Peach he would sit with her. He tried to think of a clever way to refuse...

"Hah! You're joking, right?" The words just flew out. He had done it again. But Fox didn't look surprised, or even insulted.

"No, I'm not." the vulpine said. "Sit with us. Please?"

Wolf bit his lip to avoid another stupid, embarrassing remark. He looked around, from Fox, to Falco, to Peach. When his gaze met Peach's, he stopped. She was trying to mouth something to him. He couldn't tell what message she was trying to send, but he knew it couldn't be a threat to sit with her.

It was then that he realized what his alternative was. What was worse: sitting with two old rivals, or sitting with who-knows-how-many over-friendly strangers?

"Actually," he said, his tongue tripping over the words, "yeah... I think—I think I'll sit with you." Smooth move, his inner voice scolded him.

A brief moment passed in which Wolf felt like a fool, like he had just been the butt of some overdone joke. Nobody moved, and nobody said anything. To his, relief, though, Fox broke it.

"Alright," Fox said, flashing Wolf a quick grin. His teeth were perfect...

Snap out of it! Wolf told himself, turning to Peach, mainly to avoid gazing at the vulpine. He thought she had just helped him, but he couldn't be sure. He felt that he was obligated to apologize. Or thank her. Or both.

"Sorry," he said. "But—"

"No problem." She winked. "Good luck."

Wolf watched dumbly as she pranced back to her table, puzzling over the meaning of her last comment.

"Coming?" Fox said.

Wolf turned around to face his rivals. "Yeah."

The vulpine led him to a table situated far away from the crowded one. Wolf sat across from him, and when Falco joined them moments later, he sat beside Fox.

Wolf had just started feeling awkward when Fox tapped Falco on the shoulder. "Hey, why don't you go say something to Samus?" he said. "You still—"

"Hey," Falco interrupted, glancing over to Wolf, his gaze lingering far too long for it to be just a casual glance. "...Yeah... I think I will. I'll be right back."

As Falco was getting up, Fox leaned over and whispered something into his ear. He nodded in return.

"What was that about?" Wolf asked when Falco disappeared from sight.

The vulpine just shrugged, then stared off to the side. Wolf turned around and followed Fox's gaze to see Falco ambling up to one of the tables across the room, his movements erratic and jerky. A single person sat at the table, a blonde-haired woman dressed in a skin-tight blue suit.

Wolf began to feel a bit uncomfortable, like he was intruding on something. He turned on his tray, scooping up the first thing he saw in his spork, and shoving it into his mouth.

He gagged. He hated eggs.

From the corner of his vision, he could see Fox turn to look at him.

"What's wrong with you?" Fox asked in a low voice.

The subtle note of concern in the vulpine's voice caused Wolf's mind to go blank. "E-eggs," he said. He turned on his tray again, and managed to gag on eggs once more.

"Not that. And please, stop doing that. Is it Krystal?"

"What do you mean?" He was trying to stall, but Fox was too smart for his own good, and would probably end up figuring it out anyway. On top of that, Wolf now had the rather unpleasant aftertaste of scrambled eggs to deal with.

"You know what I mean." Fox said.

Wolf sat his spork down, folded his arms, and looked directly at Fox, scrutinizing his every move. "Why do you care?" he asked. The vulpine probably just wanted to gloat or something.

Fox sighed. "Look, I know we haven't been the best of friends..."

Wolf cleared his throat.

"Or friends at all," he amended. "But something's seriously wrong with you. You look like you haven't slept in about a week."

"I got sleep yesterday."

Fox stared at Wolf, his expression unreadable, his emerald eyes piercing like daggers. Wolf shuffled in his seat, scratching a part of his body that didn't itch. Moments later, Fox shook his head and leaned closer. Wolf almost breathed a sigh of relief.

"Stop trying to act so tough," Fox said. "Look, Peach said she asked you the same thing, and that you wouldn't tell her anything, that you wouldn't let her help, and that you almost killed Mario just because he snuck up on you. Something is wrong with you, Wolf, admit it. What is it?"

"It's not Krystal," Wolf said.

"Then what is it?" His eyes bored into Wolf once more. The lupine avoided his gaze. Was it worth the risk, confiding in a rival? Who else could he confide in?

There was nobody else. Fox was, in all honesty, the closest he had to a friend at that moment. He growled. He had kept the frustration and sadness inside for too long, and he had to let it out sometime, or it was going to consume him. "It's everything else!" he shouted. Eyes from all over the room turned on him. He spoke again, in a lower voice. "Krystal can burn for all I care. I wish she was never born."

"Wolf..."

"Don't start with me, pup. Do you want to hear what I've been through? It's been hell."

He expected Fox to snap back a clever, stinging comeback about his own life in recent times, but instead, he leaned over the table, rested his head in his right paw, and said, gently, "Go ahead." He looked genuinely interested. It was kind of cute. As cute as a mortal enemy could be, at least. Realize what he had just thought, Wolf had to force himself to keep talking, because he felt that if he didn't continue, he would do something stupid.

"After I said... You know, what I said, Panther got mad. He got so mad that he left the team."

Fox's eyes widened.

"He took Leon with him. I don't even know what his problem was. And guess what? They took the mothership too, and most of our money. They left me with nothing but my Wolfen." He paused. "I had to sell it."

Fox's jaw dropped as much as his hand would allow. "Why?"

"I couldn't get any jobs—well, none that were worth it. Nothing would cover the costs, not unless you're a hitman or something. The bounty on my head didn't help: nobody would hire me for an honest job—they all wanted to turn me in." He paused again. "I had to pay people, Fox. Pay them to go to the store and buy me food. I've had to live like a criminal." Underneath that, there was the unspoken you are a criminal.

"Sheesh... I'm sorry," Fox said. "That... that really sucks. That's why you came here?"

Wolf couldn't help feeling a bit thankful for the sympathy, and that awkward feeling returned again, forcing him to continue. "I guess. Just wanted to get away. The invitation was the only good thing to happen for a while, and I couldn't really refuse it anyway. But I guess if I win this, I'll have enough money to live for a nice, long time. Maybe I could pay off my bounty or something."

Fox looked away, this time not towards Falco. "I guess it's sort of my fault."

Wolf raised an eyebrow.

"I mean, it was me and Panther..." His voice was unsteady, and his posture stiff.

"It wasn't your fault. I'd love to say it was, but..." He growled and threw up his hands in rage, faintly aware of how unnaturally easy it was to confess all this to Fox. "It was just so stupid! I lost my temper once and it ruined my entire life. It wasn't even for a good reason." More eyes turned on him and he once again tried to ignore them.

Fox shifted in his seat. "You know, Wolf, what you said back then... it was kind of true."

"Really?" He was unable to contain the hope from seeping through to his voice, but Fox didn't give any acknowledgment that he'd heard it.

"Yeah... I'd thought things like that in the past, but never really paid attention to them. I was too busy chasing after her. But what you said was right-on."

Wolf grinned. It was the first time he had smiled in... he didn't even know how long. "It was so stupid," he said. "She would get in some stupid argument with you, then come crying to Panther, fall hopelessly in love with him for a couple of days, then go crawling back to you, begging for forgiveness. Then she'd do it all over again." He realized how much he had just insulted both Fox and Krystal. Had he said something wrong? He watched Fox for signs of a reaction, and was relieved when the vulpine laughed, resting his hands on the table.

"I know what you mean. For a moment, even if it was just a small one, I really felt like we, err—" Wolf could have sworn he saw Fox's ears go down in a blush. "That is, me and Krystal, had something special going on. I guess I was wrong."

"Look," Fox started, drumming his claws against the table, "even if you don't win, I could always help you out a little. You should have just called."

The thought had crossed him once or twice when he wasn't in his right mind. He always felt that Fox would laugh at him and point out that it was all his fault, or something like that. He would never have imagined Fox saying what he just did. Someone actually wanted to go out of his way to help him. It was touching.

"Thanks," Wolf said, his tongue once again having difficulty. He thought he could feel himself blushing a bit. Calm down, he told himself. You can't let him have that kind of effect on you.

"No problem... Buddy." Fox smiled, revealing those flawless canines again. Wolf found himself smiling, too. Twice in the same day—what a miracle.

It was at that moment that Falco came back and sat down. "It's almost time for it to start."

It took a while for Fox to turn to Falco and respond. "Alright. How'd it go?"

"It was..." He glanced over at Wolf again. "I'll tell you later."

"Come on, don't be rude," Fox said.

"Hey, the new guy's here, pay attention." At first, Wolf thought the bird was talking about him, but both Fox and Falco turned to face the entrance of the cafeteria.

Sure enough, a tall, pale-skinned man had entered the room, carrying a stack of papers. The newcomer stood in the front of the room and cleared his throat. Within moments, the room became completely quiet.

Wolf shuderred. The man certainly had a powerful presence.

"Good morning, contestants," the man said, his voice resonant. "Welcome to the Smash Brothers' third annual tournament. My name is Tabuu, and for those of you who have participated here before, you know that this is my first year running the tournament, and that the Hands have ran the previous ones. I assure you, not much will be different, but what rules I set, I will expect to be followed. There will be no toleration of infractions here, and violators will be disqualified. But I don't think we will have many problems. The rules include but are not limited to: no males on the female floors, and no females on the male floors; no purposefully injuring contestants in the training area; no cheating in an official match..."

The man's voice became a droning sound in the background to Wolf. Most of the rules were obvious enough that he didn't need to listen to them be called out anyway. His gaze drifted back over to rest on Fox. Many long moments later, he realized that he was staring, and that Fox was staring back. He tried to tear his gaze away, but he only succeeded in eliciting an awkward jerk from his head. Fox raised a paw and made a tiny waving gesture towards him. He fidgeted and tried to acknowledge the gesture—to wave back, to nod, to do something—but his body wouldn't listen.

Tabuu cleared his throat again. It was by no means a loud or piercing sound—in fact, it was quite the contrary—but it ripped Wolf's attention away from Fox. Tabuu walked over to a nearby unoccupied table. "I'm placing a schedule of the upcoming events on this table," he said. "It shows when the matches are and who will be fighting in them. I will trust the veterans to show the new contestants where to find all of the facilities. I am looking forward to a fair, clean tournament, and I trust that all of you are as well. Let's keep it that way. Good day."

The man turned and left, ignoring the numerous hands raised in question. Chills went through Wolf again—something about the man just didn't seem right. He turned to his food again and finished it, not waiting for Fox and Falco. He didn't want to intrude on whatever the latter had to say, and talking to Fox was getting a bit too awkward.

People were either finishing their breakfast or filing out of the room now, except for one man, garbed in blue, who stood stationary near the door. After Wolf got one of the schedules, he started out, and the man stopped him.

"Are you Wolf O'Donnell?" He asked. His voice was heavily accented, but in a different way than Mario's.

"Yeah," Wolf said.

"I'm Marth." Great, the prince. "You got my letter, right?"

Wolf nodded.

"Sorry about that, but I woke up at 5:00, and I couldn't stand to wait around for two hours for you to get up. Nice to meet you. I'll give you a tour of the place to make up for it if you want."

"Alright." He had to admit, two hours was a large span of time for someone to sit through just to be a tour guide.

"By the way, are you with Fox and Falco? You guys look like you're..."

"They're my..." He hesitated. He almost said enemies, then almost said rivals, but neither of the words really seemed appropriate. Looking back on the day, he felt the need to develop a new word to describe them. "They're friends." The words had a nice ring.

"Ah. You're lucky you have someone you know here."

He chuckled. "I guess."

He headed off in the direction of the elevator, and Marth followed. He managed to ward off most of the prince's chatter, but his thoughts were elsewhere. To be more specific, they were on someone else.

As he walked back to his room, he made a decision: that he would get to know Fox—the real Fox—not the annoying pilot with whom he always exchanged insults. His old problems were still there, but maybe, just maybe, with Fox's, he could transcend them.