Master Hand stood in the doorway and greeted guests, still straightening his bowtie. The first to the party were Solid Snake and Samus, most likely arriving early to survey the ballroom for any potential threats. Over the course of an hour, the entire roster had arrived, the last being Link and Peach (fashionably late, as always). The former was mumbling curses to himself and fingering the hilt of his sword, as his date squealed ditzily over the dresses of her contemporaries. They had all convened in the elaborately decorated room, and the hubbub of chatter died down as Master Hand ascended to the mike.
"Welcome, Smashers one and all, to the Eighth Annual Smash Ball!" he said, to sporadic applause. The terrible pun of the event's name was vilified by all, although Master Hand thought himself quite witty. The eponymous sphere hung shining beneath a large, splashy banner that proclaimed its name. As the event's organizer was loath to reveal, it was a real Smash Ball, not a decoration; they hadn't had the budget or time to procure a replica, and as such they had merely swiped an active Smash Ball from the item storage deposits. This meant that if one of the guests were to knock the ball down from its bindings and break it, the dance would be in ruins. Suddenly…
"Pikachu! No!" Master Hand screamed as the yellow rodent, foaming at the mouth, raced through the crowd and leapt for the Smash Ball. The room suddenly turned into a chaotic miasma of people preparing for battle; swordsmen drew their swords, mages called balls of magic, psychics concentrated, warriors threw punches, and the technologically inclined primed their blasters. There was a tremendous shattering noise and a flash of white light as the ball fell to the floor.
"RED! RESTRAIN YOUR POKE—" Master Hand was cut off as the rabid creature became encased in a ball of blue light and began to fly through the air uncontrollably. The trainer curled in a ball on the floor as the crowd raged around him, each trying to put an end to the menace of the rabid mouse. Master Hand went into a corner and cowered, praying that being hit by a rabid ball of blue light would not stain his impeccable silk gloves.
Moments later, Pikachu lay curled in Red's arms, sleeping peacefully, as though he was completely unaware that he had just savaged a huge formal dance. Though everyone was flustered and the banner had fallen down, Master Hand once again rose to the podium.
"Eh…Smashers… Excuse the brief interlude. Please return to dancing," he said, slightly flustered, as he turned around once again to cue up dance music, K.K. Slider's Greatest Hits. There were collective sighs; K.K. was considered somewhat passé by the socialites of the videogame world.
The dance gradually returned to normal as Master Hand slipped off to acquire a replacement Smash Ball…