Super Paper Mario – The Story
This one's for my sibling who adores Mario, and is meant as a de-stress project for me. It's my first time venturing into the video game adaptation world, and I haven't really read much Mario fiction, so if I've committed any glaring errors I hope you'll forgive me. It's not meant to be as serious as some of my usual work. Mario is copyright by Nintendo, and I'm just having fun with the characters. That being said, I'm not just copying and pasting the game script into a story; I'm going to deviate from the game. I assume that's all right because if everyone just wanted the game story they'd play the game again. And to my YGO readers, don't think this means I'm branching out of YGO completely or that I won't update my other story in favor of this one. This one helps me get my writing going and is one reason I'm working properly on the other one, which is significantly more complicated. I can't promise I'll update this one often – I'll have to see response and whether I can develop it. Reviews and constructive criticism are welcome, with the above information in mind.
Also, this adapt is not based on any other. Any similarities are coincidental…or, considering the fact that we're all basing our stories off the same game franchise that start off basically the same way, maybe not. Really, they all start with Mario and Luigi chatting at home drinking tea or something with Luigi being bored…so forgive me if at points, the story seems like others. Keep in mind they're all based off the same game, even as I try to put my own spin on it. Without further ado, please enjoy the story.
Prologue to the Sixteenth History of the Light Prognosticus
"I'm not really a man of many words. So I hope the rest of you can write creatively…just jotting down a line of what happened doesn't really do the story justice."
"Aw, Bro, you're too humble. You could write a gazillion books with all you've done. I mean, you've beaten the bad guys so bad, so many times."
"Excuse me. Cheaply trounced villain within earshot. After we write this, I'm going home to stomp out some new plans. Soon as Kammy recovers from that blast. And Nastasia un-brainwashes all my minions."
"You know, I'd like you a whole lot better if you stopped trying to take over all the time. Koopa King of all Evil…you can tell by your name it's just not going to work. No offense."
"Princess, your boyfriend has smacked me around way too many times to just give up now. Being an evil dictator is all I know, and I'm decent at it."
"I suppose we're just very decent at beating you at your wicked games, then?"
"I could go after the Chaos Heart myself, you know. All that power would make the Star Rod look like a plastic wand…"
"Bowser. Don't even kid about that. Not after what it took to seal it away."
"Er…yeah. Sorry about that, Princess."
"Well. I knew you weren't serious. Even you're not that-hey, Mario's not my-!"
"Oh look, Princess Peach is floating down the lovely African river of De-NIAL. Believe me, I wish he wasn't. But while I may be the conquerer of worlds and attacker of innocent bystanders…I ain't a liar."
"Um, guys? The Light Prognosticus?"
"Right, right. Sheesh, a magical book that doesn't write itself. Why can't Merlon do it, he's one of those Ancients. All jazzed up on love and magic and passion and whatnot."
"Where the heck did you get the 'passion' from?"
"From that guy down in the Beveragarium. Carson? Or was it Garson? Apparently Merlon and Saffron had a thing going on, and it's heating up again in the aftermath of world saving. Gotta say, I loooove the juicy gossip around here. There's only so many times I can take Kammy jabbering about the Magikoopa who's dating three Koopa girls, and none of them know about the other-"
"Boys, focus. Mario, I really think you should write most of it. After all, you were closest to Tippi. She'd want you to write it."
"…If you think so, Princess Peach. Where should I start?"
"How about the Dark Prognosticus? What it is. And then the Princess can tell us about what happened at the castle. We never did find out."
"That sounds good, Luigi. Mario, start there."
"All right. The beginning is always a good place. Everyone can dictate, and I'll write it down. We can fill in what happened to each of us that way."
If someone were old beyond measure, millennia old, and had studied prophecy and the future for nearly as long, they would have heard of the Dark Prognosticus. Who wrote it exactly is murky, unknown. Why is understood, to a degree. When is anyone's guess. Where it is now, only two could say, and they are sadly beyond our reach. But one thing is certain.
The thing is full of powerful magic.
Black magic.
It was taken long ago by a sect of the Ancients, those strange beings from eons back. We didn't know why until far later. And honestly, we don't really know. But we have our educated guesses where fact heads into the fog of what was forgotten and hidden. Anyway, it is important to understand why this book is so powerful. Within its pages are destinies, fates, futures. What will happen and how and why is written in jet black ink and marks the paper like tattoos.
Fate is not absolutely destined, though. The words are not always proven true. But that is the exception to the rule. Only with absolute devotion and love were the disastrous results averted in one of its darkest prophecies.
A word of caution; whoever reads this, do not seek the book. Unlike the pages you hold now, which are full of light and hope, that book is a cancer, a tumor. To know what might be and often what will be does not make a man happy. Madness awaits the one who never faces the future unknown, but aware of every sadness. Men and even Ancients are not meant to know everything. We cannot know everything. Leave omniscience to the highest Authority, and be content.
And if you aren't convinced, read the following tale. You might understand then.
Nastasia didn't like it when the Count was so quiet.
The black walls were smooth as paper, corners and stairs lined with white. It felt funny to be a blue, pink-haired, glasses-wearing aide in the dark castle. She lifted her planner, shifted her glasses, and began trotting forward in that huge, quiet expanse.
He had been completely silent that day, and that was usually a sign that he was about to make a big decision. A dangerous, enormous one. One that required absolute thought.
Glaring once at her little shoes, tick-ticking across the tile, Nastasia stopped before the huge set of doors. They were ornately carved, smooth stone and designs reaching up more than four times her height. Timidly she lifted a fist and knocked. It sounded like a stale loaf of bread hitting a pillow. There was no response.
"Yeh'll hafta bang louder'n that, Nastasia. The Count don't have th'ears of a flip-flopping bat! Pound the blamming door or shimmy-port into the room with mag-ick the way ye do!" She nearly jumped, but stopped herself. Supremely unaffected, she whirled in a tight little motion to face the speaker.
"O'Chunks. I believe I reminded you to announce yourself properly as opposed to surprising people. Warn me next time, 'kay?" It was a bad habit she had to add "okay" or some approximation after her statements, but it was one she couldn't break. At least it was better than her stammering issue around-
"Oh, ye know I'm yank-tugging your ankle!" he roared. And hugely wide and tall as he was, with beefy arms and a barrel chest, he really did roar. The red, stiff, scruffy beard only made him seem wilder.
She poked one of her ears, trying to block the wall of noise. "I think you mean 'pulling my leg,' but whatever. I didn't want to be rude and just barge in. The Count doesn't take kindly to pounding and yelling, if you recall," came her pointed reply. O'Chunks appeared a little crestfallen at that, but quickly rallied himself and put his huge, meaty fists on his sides.
"That be true! Yeh'r a smart pastry, missy! I'd take off me head-cap if I had one!" He roared with laughter again, and she shook her head.
"Yes, well." Without thinking she reached back to check her bun. "I suppose the Count knows I want to come in now, so I might as well."
The burly figure began to retreat, stomping amiably. "Sure. But Nastasia…"
After a few moments, O'Chunks lowered his voice and said, "You tell the Count that if anybody tries to stop his plans, I'll beat 'em so bad they'll yell for Mammy. I'm rip-rarin' to chunk on any enemies o' the Count! So, if we're startin' the plans, then…well, that's just dandy-crackers."
Nastasia looked at him for a minute, mentally digesting his words. "Yes," she said finally, sliding her pencil out of her pocket and scribbling on her board. "Yes, I'll tell him, 'kay?" He beamed, bushy brows lifting from his dark, large eyes, and for a minute he looked almost nice. Then he was stumping away, feet flat as he marched toward the door at the end of the hall. She watched his back fade before returning her attention to the Count's door. Deciding to forgo knocking again, she shut her eyes and felt the dark air roil around her and pull her from one space to another, teleporting softly as a breath.
She held still to catch her breath for a second. "Count?" she asked, lungs a little stiff in the cool air.
He lingered on the ledge above her, white and black tile under his cape. Folding his gloved arm across his front like some pale Dracula, he was gazing at the book. The forbidden book.
Adjusting her glasses for the umpteenth time that day, she swallowed and tried to say something but couldn't quite think of anything. He'd stolen the book so long ago, but had never used it, never quite lost hope until now. And now he glared at it, jagged scowl almost predatory.
She licked her lips once, trying to make her voice work. All along, she'd been expecting this. "Um, Count?"
He lifted his head, brim of his hat rising a bit. "What is it, Nastasia? Count Bleck broods. And you surprised him," he said softly. She hung tight to her planner; he hadn't noticed her until now? How dangerous…if anyone came in to attack him, and they were quiet enough to creep up behind him-
Nastasia cut the thought off. She'd get more security. Pencil in four more hires. Minimum of Yellow Magic level. And O'Chunks and Mimi and Dimentio were all on the premises…he was perfectly safe.
"Yeah, um. I was just wanting to check on you. I, uh, was told you were here by, um, Mimi. So, are you…okay?"
Curse her stuttering tongue. It was worst around him. Always bad, but worst around him. His eyes rested on her as if weighing his words, or whether he should speak. He would, though. He always spoke to her. Even when O'Chunks and Mimi were too brainless – or flighty, in Mimi's case – and Dimentio too slick and slippery, he could talk to her. That made her happy, at least.
"Count Bleck is well enough. Are the preparations complete?" he asked, removing his monocle for a moment. With his gloved thumb he rubbed it clean of some irritant and replaced it. She didn't respond until it was back in place, memorizing his face without it.
Then, she nodded. "Yes, Count. The Maglibots are ready, um, and at your word they'll get Peach. And O'Chunks said…" she trailed off momentarily, lifting her planner and looking to her fresh notes, "that he's, 'rip-rarin' to chunk on any enemies o' da Count.' His words. So, if anyone tries to stop us once the Void opens, he and Mimi and Dimentio are all ready to, um, stop them."
He grinned, smile stretching across his face. "Excellent. First Peach, then the Koopa. Convincing them to cameo in our grandest hour will not be difficult, said Count Bleck." Turning back to the book, he lifted an arm to touch the binding. Beneath his cape glinted darkness and stars, as if he was a window to space and the heavens above. Paradise swirled in the cloth, magic of the deepest kind. Nastasia watched the book begin to glow, recognizing a familiar power, and watched it light the Count with energy.
Her heart thumped once or twice, in fear and enchantment. The beginning of the end was drawing close. She scribbled in the date on her page.
"So you see, Princess, the only logical decision to be made is to construct an entirely new dojo. Since the hailstorm, it's been a rickety pile of sticks. Think Eeyore's house. If we tear it down, there'll be plenty of room to make a wonderful new one, bigger and improved. All in the progressive spirit." The Toad beamed, but was suddenly cut off by a gruff cough.
"You do not respect the old dojo. You have no respect for martial arts. How would you know of what an 'improvement' would be?" The old Master, a Toad of admirable repute, squinted at the young, dirty construction leader. "You'd probably call a brand, spanking-new YMCA an 'improvement,' whippersnapper! We want to fix the old one and preserve as much of its history as possible!"
The construction Toad spun to glare at him. "For fungus' sake, man! I can't fix the unfixable! One wrong kick will send the place crashing down, and I can't reinforce it without tearing something out! The foundations are totally unstable, your budget is limited, and it would be safer and simpler just to build a new one with the room a demolition would provide!"
"Think of the history! You'll be tearing down the practice fighting dojo of Prince Mush! Of my ancestors!" The Master looked ready to tear off his turban and beat the younger Toad with his walking stick. Toadsworth opened his mouth and shut it again.
"It's a public health menace! Heck, it might have freaking lead paint on it for all I know!"
"What does that matter, you're not going to eat the paint-!"
"If you breathe it in, it can affect the lungs!"
"Then we'll remove it and paint over in acrylic!"
"What a waste of time-!"
"GENTLEMEN!" Toadsworth screamed, "THAT is QUITE enough!"
The two froze, looking to the diminutive figure in front of them. He was rubbing his temples and waddling slowly across the red carpet of the conference room. "Princess, I think you understand why we needed another authority on the matter," he said, looking to the monarch in question.
"Yes. I see. There's no easy solution," she admitted. Seated in a comfortable chair beside the gold lined window, Princess Peach smiled ingratiatingly at the two Toads. "The way I see it, the building is dangerous. A historical gem, and dangerous," she added, seeing the Master tighten his grip worriedly on his walking stick. He relaxed. "We want to preserve the history, but we want a new dojo that's safe and functional. We have to use that allotted area to prevent going over budget. So, I propose the following."
She stood up and brushed the wrinkles out of her dress neatly. Walking lightly, putting a hand to her chin in thought, she looked at the two. "I think that it would be best for a bit of deconstruction of the old dojo."
"A wise choice, Princess-"
"But it-!"
She held up a gloved finger, dainty and commanding. The two were silent again, under the gaze of the guards on either side of the door. "Notice I said 'a bit.' I think that what should happen is that part of the building should be taken down and a new area built onto it. The other part, however, should be preserved as a sort of mini-museum. There will be a new area for the fighters to practice and hone their skills, but several parts of it – the most stable, repairable parts – will be preserved. This way, the historical and practical can be joined together. And if that proves a little expensive, you can assure the monetary donors that tourism to the museum section by fighting fans will offset any initial losses. If you don't like my decision, you can still discuss it amongst yourselves. But that's my take on the matter." With that, she smiled again and folded her hands in front of her. "Now, if you'd like, we have some pastries in the kitchen. Feel free to help yourselves, but I have a few other matters I simply must attend to. Toadsworth, would you be so kind?"
"Of course," he said. He turned to the Master and then the construction Toad. "Well? Does the plan sound agreeable?"
They glanced at each other and the younger held his head in thought. "It should work," he said finally. "I know a couple of the rooms are unsalvageable, but I could knock them down and keep the others in good condition."
"And providing there is a good portion of the old dojo left, I can compromise," the Master added.
Peach nodded. "All right, then. I'm glad it's going to work out." After a bow or two and several expressions of gratitude from the two Toads, her advisor scuttled out with them in tow. She stood quietly for a moment before asking, "Are they gone, Figh T.?"
The guard listened at the crack of the door before nodding. "Yes, Princess. They're gone."
Peach sighed, and flopped back into the chair. "Thank goodness. I'm glad I could help, but if they kept screaming at each other, I would've lost it. I'm pooped."
The sentry smiled. "If anyone could find a solution, it was you. It sounds reasonable to me."
"Yeah, me too. I wonder why they didn't think to try something like that, though?" the other guard, a chipper Toad by the name of Swee T., asked. "I mean, you did wonderfully your Highness; it's just the solution seemed so…simple."
"Oh, they usually are. Just need an impartial figure. If you're on either side, it's hard to see sometimes," Peach said quietly, twisting a lock of gold hair around her finger. "Although, I really do want to keep the old dojo. I mean, it's where a lot of our sentries train. You guys, for example. There are a lot of memories invested there. Even Mario's gone there to train a bit."
If she hadn't shut her eyes for a moment, she would have seen the two Toads share a furtive glance.
As it was, she stretched and got up again. "Well, at least that's done. I think I'm going to go see Mario, actually. It's been a while, and now that I'm thinking about it I really want to see him. Would you two care to escort me?" she asked. They gave her a surprised look, mirror images of each other.
"But Your Highness, I thought you had 'other matters to attend to,'" Swee said awkwardly. The sun was beautiful and warm even through the window, and he was dying to get outside, but duty came first. And not just his.
But the Princess winked mischievously at him. "Well…I didn't say they were matters of business, did I? Visiting dear friends is a matter that needs attending. And I really needed to get them to leave," she added a little guiltily. Figh grinned, and Swee nodded.
"I understand. Well then, Princess Peach, we would be honored to escort you." He stood at attention, and Peach clapped enthusiastically.
"Wonderful! If you don't mind, I'd like to leave in a couple hours. I think I'm going to bake a cake for him. And Luigi, of course." Each Toad took a door and pulled them open for her, inclining their heads as she passed by. "It's funny. Usually if I want to see Mario, I have to send a note or call him. This way, I get to surprise him!" Skirts rustling, she darted out and started down the stairs. It took a great deal of self control not to slide down the banister in her giddiness.
About fifteen minutes and several cups of sugar and milk later found her in the kitchen, gloves off and hands coated in flour as she stirred. Both sentries watched in bemusement as she sprinted around the kitchen, snatching cream and butter as she hurried back to the mixing bowl before the ingredients set. "A little extra butter makes it stay moist," she explained. "And a pinch of baking soda to make it rise…"
Peach liked to bake. She enjoyed the simple act of mixing and stirring, using a recipe and deviating from it to make something new. Sometimes it turned out great. Rarely was it awful. But for years she'd always been able to find solace in the kitchens among the sweet ingredients. Food was calming, and pastries cheerful. And the motions kept her busy, but not so terribly busy that she couldn't hold still awhile. It was just peaceful.
It also helped her when her mind was just too full to do anything else. Today alone she had attended a hearing at dawn dealing with some Koopas who had formed a gang a couple years back and were in trouble with the law again – the Ninjakoopas, Koopa Brothers, or something like it – and oversaw the opening of a new road to Petalburg. Both before breakfast. And then, after bolting down a boiled egg, she'd had to approve the latest guards, remind Toadsworth to take his vitamin, write several letters to foreign ministers about issues with Goomba relations, and then this. And it wasn't even noon.
When she first took over, it had been relatively simple. Nobody wanted to trust the delicate, young princess with enormous affairs of the kingdom. That had been when she could spend time doing what she liked and walking by the ponds and rivers with Mario. But after she'd handled Bowser taking over the castle with the Star Rod and helped Mario save the day, everybody trusted her with these difficult problems, believing she could settle any adversity. Their faith touched her, deeply, but sometimes it drove her bonkers when they piled up so many things for her to do. Such was the price of royalty and political power.
Humming brightly, she looked around and shifted to kneel and open a cabinet. Paprika, thyme, cloves, garlic, cinnamon, oregano, extra sugar…honey. Honey would make for a sweet gift. She tugged it out, ignoring the floury fingerprints she left on the jar, gripping it tightly to avoid dropping the slick glass.
"What kind of cake are you making, Princess?" Figh was watching her motions carefully, taking note when she moved near the hot oven with her bare arms. Whereas Swee was filching some strawberries from one of the fruit baskets that had been brought in just that morning and placed on the counters.
"Honey-vanilla-strawberry. I'm going to make honey cake, with vanilla icing, topped with strawberries." At that, Swee jerked his hand back from the baskets, looking abashed. "Oh, go ahead Swee T., we have plenty. Besides I'm only going to put two on there, sliced into pieces," she assured him. He smiled shyly, and reached for the jar of honey when she struggled to pry the lid off. He popped it open easily and handed it back. "Thanks. Whenever I'm baking when Mario visits, he always gets the lids. I keep forgetting how hard it is to open the jars."
At this, Figh nudged Swee. In response, he shoved back and muttered in his ear, mushroom caps knocking together. Catching sight of this, Peach said nothing and turned to the drawers beside the oven and pulled out a clean whisk with a china handle. "Perfect. Now, what are you boys whispering about?" She gestured at them with the whisk before picking up the bowl and proceeding to beat the mixture properly.
"Nothing, Princess. We were just wondering…well, it wouldn't be polite to say."
She cocked an eyebrow. "Well, now you've piqued my interest. What is it? I promise I won't get mad, unless it's really outrageous."
A little more violently than the situation called for, Figh pushed his comrade, who nearly fell over. Peach stood, waiting patiently, still stirring. "Well…it's really something the entire castle wants to know about. We…We all want to know about Mario."
Peach switched the whisk to her other hand, palm smarting from a combination of a tight grip, swift mixing speed, and dry hands from the flour. "Mario? What do you mean? Everyone knows about Mario."
Figh held out his hands and she relinquished her hold on the bowl. The honey made the dough thicker, and it was easier for him to stir it for the required two minutes at the same speed. But the younger sentry scuffed a foot and muttered, "Well, that is to say…have you read the latest issue of 'The Toadtown Questioner?'"
The sink handle turned easily as the Princess went to clean her hands of egg, flour, and butter. "Is that the magazine with the part dog, part fish, part Toad articles?"
"Yeah. That's the one."
"Then no," she stated frankly. Scrubbing vigorously as the water blasted, she continued, "I think a lot of those articles are silly. Were they saying something about Mario?" The very thought made her blood boil. Or maybe that was just the faucet water. At any rate, Swee didn't say anything until she'd pulled her hands out from under the stream.
"Not exactly. It was more about…well, it was about the relationship between him and you, Princess Peach."
After a long, contemplating pause, Peach whirled around, nearly losing her crown in the process. "What!"
He shut his eyes, head dipping into his cloak collar. "You promised not to get mad. The article was saying stuff like…like you're an item. And the castle – well, okay, the whole town – kind of wants to know if it's true." In spite of himself, he opened one eye, keeping it on the princess as she dried her hands on a towel hanging from the oven handle.
"We…We most certainly are not! Mario is my dearest friend!" she spluttered finally. Figh handed her the bowl as she held out her arms, and she proceeded to briskly beat the mixture, arm a blur. "Really!"
She really hoped her face wasn't pink. Neither of the guards said anything, and she finally moved the baking pan over to the stove and slowly, evenly poured the batter in. A buttery, creamy yellow, it smelled sweet as she dipped a finger into the nearly empty bowl and tasted it. Her face lit up.
"Perfect. Vanilla and strawberry will go great with it." She tugged open the oven, squinting when the heat rolled out in a thick wave, and stuck the pan in, pushing it back and closing the door quickly. "Phew!"
Peach wasn't about to discuss one of the more confusing relationships in her life with anyone. Except perhaps Daisy, who proved to be an excellent confidant in matters of the heart. The fact that a magazine had apparently written something about her and Mario irked her, and she began putting the mixing bowls and such into the sink with rather more abandon than she would normally. Twenty-five minutes for the cake, she thought absently.
"You know, Princess, you shouldn't let this upset you. It is a magazine featuring dog-Toad mutants," Figh said gently. At that, she crossed her arms.
"That's true. I just…oh, I don't know," she replied, undoing her apron and folding it neatly. She set it back where she'd found it, on the shelf that held freshly washed towels in case of spills, picking up her gloves and slipping her hands back into them. Her fingers felt cold without them. "I just don't know."
Neither guard quite got the chance to wonder what exactly it was that she didn't know, for someone screamed outside the door, making them jump. "What was-?"
The door flew inward, busting under the weight of some black, inky shape. Peach yelped as the guards moved in front of her, staring aghast at the…the…thing.
The black thing had reduced to a puddle amidst the broken pieces of door. But that oily mass was coagulating, reforming, lifting up into what lengthened and smoothed out into some kind of human-sized figure with yellow, glowing eyes. Gloves of the same color covered its hands, and it might have been cute had it not been glaring at them in silence.
"Swee, get Princess Peach out of here." Figh tightened his grip on his spear. But before either guard could make a move, the creature cackled and scooped up some of the inky material beneath and rolled it between its gloves like a snowball. Peach saw it begin to hurl the odd mass and instinctively covered her face with her arms.
Swee and Figh didn't wake up until hours later. When they did, they were covered in black goop and debris, and the room was a wreck. Food splattered on the floor, slime slopped on the ceiling and what was left of the broken, tumbling walls showed the power of the sudden blast.
And Princess Peach was nowhere to be found, though all the guards of the castle searched frantically for her. And the cake ended up burning to a black, greasy crisp in the oven, forgotten amidst the chaos.
Anyone who knew Luigi knew he was a bit of a neat freak. Muddy shoes had a certain towel they sat on upon entry, the books got dusted no matter how long it had been since they'd been read –he had been truly touched yesterday when he saw the elder Mario brother tug out a copy of 'Super Luigi 2' to read by the fireplace – and he vacuumed every Saturday at five fifteen precisely.
It was something to do, and it kept the place neat. Visitors didn't understand why he had to vacuum at five fifteen, but he did it regardless.
Anyone who knew Luigi also knew he had a tendency to open his mouth when he shouldn't, particularly when Mario was backing him up. It was probably from being the perpetual underdog, the brother to the "famous Mario Mario, hero of the Mushroom Kingdom." But he wasn't thinking about that today. Not yet, anyway.
No, he was thinking about two things. One was the fact that he was completely, irrevocably, undeniably bored. The second was if Mario liked the honey he'd added to the tea. Daisy always liked it that way, and she'd insisted he try it once. So he did, and got addicted to it. Better than lemon.
But his un-entertained mind then switched gears into recalling what he'd heard in town and seen on the magazine cover. It did that. Thinking about Daisy got him thinking about Peach, for Daisy was to him what Peach was to Mario. And the girls looked alike, so that was probably part of it too.
He'd heard a rumor recently that Mario had been seen looking at one of the Toadettes' jewelry stores. "Was he looking at engagement rings?" asked the tabloids. Not that he read them while in line at the market…often. But Luigi didn't think Mario was looking for nuptial rings; Big Bro would tell him if he was going to make a move like that. And the house wasn't big enough for three people. Though he supposed that Mario and Peach, if they ever did wed, would live at the castle. He'd live here, he supposed…if they were getting married. Which they weren't.
But it wouldn't surprise him if Mario had been thinking about getting Peach a present or something. She rarely had the chance to buy jewelry because she was so busy with affairs of the kingdom – getting kidnapped every so often threw things into anarchy more times than they cared to think about – and adventuring wasn't exactly bad on the pocketbook. Hey, the coins monsters dropped were fair game.
It was when Luigi was thinking about what color earrings would best suit Princess Peach's hair and dress color preferences other than the turquoise stones she currently had that he knew he needed something dangerous and manly to do. This was wrong.
Ever since the mansion fiasco, the Poltergust 3000 led a peaceful existence sucking up nothing more fearsome than dust bunnies. Fludd was incredibly helpful in watering the garden, and providing conversation when Mario was off to town to get the occasional treat of mushroom stir-fry. A Shine Sprite from Isle Delfino rested next to a Star on the nightstand. Twink dropped by to inform them that he was being considered to join the ranks of the Star Spirits when he had a few more decades on him.
Goombella wrote every month, Flurrie sent Mario pictures of her most recent theatrical escapades, and Koops had sent an e-mail with an image attached of Koopie Koo holding an egg in a baby blanket. "im gonna b a daddy!" the message had read. The smile on Koopie Koo's face had been brighter than the ring on her finger.
The others wrote too. Pictures and letters and occasional phone calls kept everyone together. Although nobody had sent him anything from Plumpbelly Village. But that was beside the point.
The point was that he was really, really bored. The point was that things were peaceful and silent, and there was nothing to do but think about cleaning and jewelry colors. Adventures had come and gone, and now they just seemed gone. And the constant reminders of their past ventures were driving him up the wall.
(Hey, Luigi, hurry it up. We get it. Adventure couldn't have come at a better time for the little housewife.)
So thinking, and wracking his brain for anything even mildly novel and innovative, Luigi eased himself into the seat across from his brother. Mario neatly sipped from his mug – cherry red – and exhaled quietly over the sweet tea. "It's nice. Daisy's recipe?"
"Yep. Quarter teaspoon of cinnamon, two teaspoons honey." Luigi fidgeted, swinging his feet just a little under the table. Mario didn't seem to notice, apparently enjoying the late morning. He was always content with a quiet evening at home, particularly when they were sitting on the back porch with the Princess, listening to crickets and watching lightning bugs. Luigi wished to have that kind of serene wisdom about him.
As it was, he was kicking the legs of his chair. Mario watched him with faint interest. "Yeah, it's a nice day. Sun shining, just beautiful," Luigi stated baldly, looking at the window. "In fact, it's so beautiful…I kinda wish something would go KERBLOOEY to liven things up!"
His arms exploded outward in a wild wave. Mario didn't flinch, watching his sudden burst. "I mean, it's just a little too peaceful, y'know? Like…like I need excitement!"
Mario sipped his tea. "I suppose. We could go to town if you want. See if anything's going on."
Luigi nodded, but the restlessness stirred uncomfortably. "Yeah," he said, twiddling his thumbs. His gloves were a little dusty from the shelves. "But see," Luigi continued suddenly, "that's the thing. Nothing's going to be going on. It's gonna be the same as always. Toads and Toadettes and the fortune teller and the Li'l Oinks. Nothing new really comes to town."
He settled his head in his hands. "Bro, do you ever get tired of things being peaceful? Like…do you ever wish Bowser would cook up some lame scheme that you could bust in a couple days, just to shake things up a little? I mean," he continued, feeling a little awkward under his brother's blue, scrutinizing gaze, "I've only been on a few adventures…not as many as you. I just want to know if it's ever hard to come home and just relax. Have a normal day."
"When I was younger it was," Mario said after a moment, as if admitting an embarrassment. "I would get restless in the middle of the night and get up and go outside. The night air helped me think. But sometimes it would be very bad. Sometimes I would walk through all of Toad Town to get to the Princess's castle, and I'd ask the sentry to check on her."
Luigi hung off every word. His brother rarely seemed to speak so much at once, and it was interesting to hear him talk like this. "Yeah? Like you want to make sure she's okay. Because Bowser was always trying to kidnap her. When did it get better?"
Mario paused. He didn't say anything, glancing out the window. "Eventually. Why don't we head to town? Perhaps you'll be happily surprised and find something interesting."
Frowning, Luigi wondered if he ought to press his brother, but never got the opportunity; something outside was making a high-pitched, screeching sound. He hopped up, knocking his chair back to get to the door.
The squealing noise happened to be a Toad. One of many that all looked the same. Wow, why was that?
(No seriously, guys. Why do all Toads look the same? Do you know, Princess?)
(Luigi, I've never asked. It didn't seem polite. I'm sure they look very different to each other.)
Well, he didn't know why that was. But anyway, this particular Toad's face was white and terrified, and he was sweating as he skidded to a halt in front of the house. "M-M-M-M-Mario! Th-Th-Thank goodness!"
"What's wrong, Toad? You're shaking like a Turtley Leaf!" Was that a heroic comparison to make? It sounded a little silly. And it hurt a little that the Toad had ignored him entirely, but Luigi would worry about it later.
"The castle! It-It was attacked! Raided! The Princess-stolen!"
The words sent a shock through Luigi, and he saw a smaller one bolt across his brother's face. Thinking back on his previous statements, Luigi's heart started thumping like crazy; had he inadvertently wished this on them? Was it karma? Whatever had happened to Peach, was it his fault?
"That's crazy! Who would do something…like…" he faltered. There was only one person who would kidnap Princess Peach on a regular basis. All others had been dealt with before now. He looked at Mario. "Bowser?"
Something in his brother's eyes seemed to calm a little; if it was Bowser, she was all right, and they could take care of it immediately. "Bowser."
(I'm not sure if I should be really ticked by that or a little glad you guys know I wouldn't hurt my lovely wife.)
(Bowser? We're not married. That farce was not a real wedding.)
Luigi stretched, a little more at ease. "Don't worry, Toad. We'll go to that jerk's castle right now and get her back." Mario nodded his assent, and – after grabbing a precautionary mushroom each from the kitchen shelf reserved for adventuring rations – they dashed for the pipe outside of town that led to the Koopa King's magma-laden lair.
This isn't so bad, Luigi thought. We'll get the princess after a quick, awesome battle, just enough to make the day interesting. She'll be safe and sound again. Easy. A one-day adventure for the record books.
Mario's attention was completely riveted on the pipe's specific location. Luigi was the only one who heard the Toad squeak, "Good luck! We're counting on you Mario…Brothers!"
His chest swelled with pride. Yeah. This would be fine. A short adventure, and home and safe again.
(Okay, I want a page break. I want to dictate the next part. It was MY castle you guys barged into, after all. And on no evidence whatsoever!)
(Bowser, past experience of this kind seems to be fair evidence. I mean, you were planning to kidnap her that very day, weren't you?)
(Shut up and let me talk. No interruptions…unless dear Peach wants to comment on my awesome.)
In the middle of a wasteland outside the Mushroom Kingdom's borders, in the core of a boiling volcano, a dark castle rested. It was a hole of wickedness, a place of despair, ruled by a great and tyrannical dictator. The greatest of all Koopas to ever profess evil or otherwise. The mightiest fire-breathing creature to ever stomp the Earth, the most diabolical mastermind the kingdom had ever been plagued by.
(Bowser, please. This isn't supposed to be some ego trip. You're very evil and powerful. We know. As has been mentioned, you do tend to kidnap me an awful lot.)
(Just setting the mood, my fair Princess. The readers are gonna want to know just how bad I was.)
At this time, the draconic ruler in question was having a massive powwow with his underlings. The room was filled with Goombas and Koopatrols, Clubbas and Hammer Brothers. Every agent of evil that had ever assailed Mushroom Kingdom under his orders was present. It was at this time that the wicked leader, Koopa King Bowser, began to speak.
"All right guys. Today's the day we attack the castle, and make the kingdom – and my beloved princess – all mine! And we're gonna smash those stupid 'stache brothers too!"
To this dramatic line that had not at all been borrowed from every villainous monologue ever, the response was huge; the crowd cheered and raved and applauded, hailing their mighty overlord. He smiled, showing off his pearly fangs, and waved to the adoring mass. Their adulation was music to his ears. "Too long have we been stuck under the boots of those plumbers! Today, we take our rightful places as the leaders of this land! And by we, I mean me!"
This too garnered applause and cheering. "Hail Lord Bowser!" one cried.
"Ruler of the World, man!" screamed another.
"Hooray for evil!"
"Hi Mom!"
"We're under attack!"
Bowser laughed. "'We're under attack!' Ha! You jokers are great!" he said cheerfully. But when he looked in the direction of the one who had spoken, he frowned. "Hey, you behind him! What's with the unkempt hair? We shave around these parts, guys! Or at least comb!"
Heaving his admirable, muscle-filled bulk into the air, the Koopa King landed in front of the offenders. The rest of his minions had fallen back to avoid being squashed by the positively tyrannosaurus show of strength and…density.
(Bowser, are you sensitive about your weight?)
(NO! I AM A LARGELY MUSCLED, IN-CHARGE VILLAIN! I'm big-boned! And I'm NOT on Saffron's "Slim-Up with Spicy Soup Diet!" Just in case you were wondering!)
(…Okay. Continue.)
To the surprise of the malevolent king, the two figures had not shrunk back in fear. But once he got a good look at them, he knew why. "Mario! And…Luigi? What…How did you get in!" There were walls all around his castle, thick as ten Koopa shells, made of Thwonk stone! Is it any wonder that he wondered?
The do-gooder in red replied, "Your gate was open. And the guards were in here. We just walked in."
Bowser paused. He crossed his arms, tapping one claw against the bicep of his opposite arm. "How many times have I told those idiots…TO LOCK-THE GATE-IF YOU'RE-THE LAST-ONE-IN!" he screamed, stomping his foot at every pause to emphasize his fury. And what terrifying fury!
"Be quiet you bad Bowser!" Luigi had spoken, the weedy green guy. Bowser eyed him with contempt – he didn't like underdogs. Especially yippy, melodramatic ones.
(That really hurts you know. I get ignored all over the place, and then insulted.)
"We know you have Princess Peach! Where is she, you foul kidnapper?"
The cheek! The insolence! Bowser considered roasting him into an hors'd' oeuvre for later, but decided against it as the message sank in. "Huh? I haven't kidnapped her yet! We haven't launched our atta-"
"Mario!" shrieked a fair voice. "Help!"
Above their heads, the air seemed to ripple, and a glowing box shimmered into sight. It seemed almost ghostly, and everyone blinked several times, wondering if they were possibly hallucinating. The Princess hovered inside it, as if trapped in a fence. The light blue of the box turned the room a pale, cloudy color.
Bowser's jaw dropped; someone had indeed kidnapped his darling Peach? And it wasn't HIM? "Whoa! Hey, who's the wise guy! You've got some nerve abducting MY princess!"
"The 'wise guy' as you say…is none other…than Count Bleck!" The voice was of middling pitch, gloating, insidious. Luigi's mustache stood on end.
"By…who? Princess Peach? Are you okay?"
She squeaked in response as a figure draped in white appeared in the same, sudden manner as the box. The minions all murmured under their breath, blinking. He looked down upon them, a white top hat and his cape concealing much of his expression. But they didn't conceal the chilly monocle on his left eye, or the way his right was a blazing coal. And the creepy, jack-o'-lantern grin lurking beneath his collar only added to his almost Halloween-costume appearance.
"Your dear princess has been kidnapped by me…Count Bleck!" the figure – Count Bleck, presumably – stated. "Predicted to come here was…Count Bleck. Fated to uphold the prophesies of the Dark Prognosticus is…Count Bleck. The destroyer of every world will be…Count Bleck."
"You know who's apparently nuts and on a monologue WAY worse than any of mine? Count Bleck," Bowser snarled, glaring at the figure. It turned its glowing, eerie eye on him. "Sheesh, at least I've gotten past the 'evil ranting in front of my foes' stage of villainy. You must really be a greenhorn if you're going on like that. Let Princess Peach go right now, I don't have time for any of this."
The jagged smile never faded. "Count Bleck thinks not. In fact, NEVER! There are plans for her, and she will be used by Count Bleck to destroy! She comes to Castle Bleck!"
Bowser looked ready to breathe fire on the wispy, oddly debonair Count. "What did you mean by that? 'Destroyer of every world?'" Luigi called. Mario glanced at him when the Count laughed softly as smoke.
"Imagine the work of the Demon Queen, infinite. Then perhaps you will have some scope of the destruction that will result from the works of Count Bleck!" At this, Peach screamed, and Mario jumped into the air, aiming for the malevolent thing's head.
Something glinted in Count Bleck's eye. Mario was thrown back, harshly flung from the Count's presence. "Bro!" Luigi yelped, but Mario hit the ground and stood up in the same quick motion. Without a word, Count Bleck lifted an arm and gestured toward the hero. Peach screamed again as black, roiling energy went screeching out of the gloved palm and surrounded its target. And when the darkness cleared Mario had crumpled to the ground.
"Mario! Mario, get up!" she yelled. Bowser, this magnificent evil beast, roared.
"Hey, I don't like that shrimp any more than I like tofu, but I'M the only one who gets to whale on him! And you're freaking out Princess Peach! Put her down right NOW!"
Count Bleck scowled, mouth dipping for an instant as Luigi crouched beside his brother and began to shake him. "He deserves heaps of ridicule. Weaklings should not face Count Bleck." Luigi tossed a glare toward the figure, who was stroking his chin in thought.
"Well, maybe if 'Count Bleck' wasn't such a coward and fought fair, he'd trounce your top hat!" he yelled, checking Mario for a pulse. Finding one, he felt his heart rate slow just a tad, and he fumbled for his pocket. The mushroom in there might wake his brother up. But the Count just kept watching him, stroking his chin, and it scared him. Mario hadn't even been able to get near the guy before he'd been repelled and blasted with some kind of unholy force.
Things were still okay. Sometimes it took Mario one or two tries, but he always got back up. He always saved the day. So Luigi controlled his breath as best he could, letting it out in a soft gust when he found the item he was looking for. But Bowser thundered out another bellowing roar, and he jerked in surprised fear. The overgrown turtle could really pack a punch when he was cheesed off.
(I thought this was MY section. Luigi, quit butting in!)
(You started it!)
"You let the Princess go! Right now! DROP HER!" Bowser hissed. His nostrils flared, flames building inside his gullet.
"Bleh heh…no. In fact, Bowser, Count Bleck has uses for a king of evil such as yourself. You shall come along as well." He lifted an arm just a little, opening his fist. Bowser swallowed at the slight gesture.
"Whaddaya mean? I'm not going-AGH!"
The floor seemed to vanish as the air began to swing in lazy, huge arcs, pulling him into the air with a terrifying might. The same dark energy that had blasted Mario was now coagulating in the center of the room, deepening into a rich, velvety black. Luigi knelt over his brother when the wind kicked up, clamping his hat against his head with one hand. A screaming Koopatrol flew by, spiked armor scraping at the ground, and Luigi stared as the others slowly began lifting. Like gravity had abandoned them, they were being sucked into the dark, gaping hole like water down a drain. Mario was unresponsive even as the room howled with dark magic and the tempest.
Luigi felt his feet lifting off the ground. "You too, man in green! Your brother isn't invited, but you're a VIP to Count Bleck!" laughed the palely dressed stranger. In response, Luigi gritted his teeth and shoved the mushroom he'd grabbed under Mario's limp hand.
"Bro! Wake up!" But his brother's pale face was still, and he felt his nails dig into his palm as he was dragged fully into the air and he instinctively made a fist. The air went cold and his eyes went dark when the field pulled him in, away from Mario.