So the day is sunny.
So I can meet some girls.
Make some friends.
Get a job.
Nah, let's just write some crappy fanfiction.
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Birds of a Feather
I
Dueling Avians
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Falco...
He remembered little of his life before Smash.
Something about Corneria, and some "Hot Rodders", it all resonated in Falco's mind, like a bell tonging every 19 hours. What did that mean? Falco wasn't quite sure. It was a rather odd simile.
Bah. It doesn't matter. He liked kicking the crap outta people, and as sadistic as that sounds, you'd understand in his shoes. Falco was always a hot headed guy, so getting fed, clothed, bathed and sheltered for doing what you love to do is a good deal. He'd prefer flying, honestly, but beggers can't be choosers.
The day he entered was a day he would never forget...
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Falco...
The voice was loud, low pitched, yet high at the same time. What kind of description is that? The best you'll get, knucklehead.
"Falco!"
The bird's eyes shot open, immediately backflipping, kicking away his assailant. A squeal from a middle aged Italian man echoed as he sailed away.
"There he goes. Again." Said a familiar voice. Fox.
Sure as day, his old friend was standing above him, staring after the shrinking shape of the red-capped man.
He looked around him. A singular platform, lined with glowing purple ridges, but in an otherwise dark, murky galaxy.
Turning, a young man in small armor, caped, with a sword that was freshly polished was standing proudly next to Fox. The blade's tip gleamed menacingly, and Falco was fairly sure the weapon was older than he was.
"Mā. Watashitachi ga watashitachi no tairetsu ni sanka suru betsu no uchū no dōbutsu o motte iru yōdesu." He said, causing Falco to stare at him uncomprehendingly. Oh dear. It seems that we have another space animal joining our ranks.
"What?"
Fox patted his teammate's shoulder. "Marth is just being a little salty, that's all."
This time, it was the man's turn to stare.
"Shiokaraidesu ka? Do no yōna shio wa, kore ni kankei shite imasen ka... ?" Salty? What does salt have to do with this...?
"Fox, where am I?" Questioned Falco, readying for battle. He wasn't certain what was going on, but he was ready to kick some tail. "And how did I get here?"
"You're in Smash. This is the Melee tournament." He beckoned the blue bird and entered a combat stance. His muzzle had turned upwards into a smile, revealing pointed teeth - the classic McCloud special. "Don't worry! Me and Marth'll whip you into shape."
This had the opposite of the intended effect, and Falco frowned.
That day was painful, almost overly so. But Falco enjoyed it. The slashes, the shots, the pure thrill of combat that surrounded him.
That day, he loved to fight.
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The Smash Tournament was huge this year, all the small eight person tourneys bubbling together so every character got to compete. Er, every fighter got to compete.
Sorry Ridley.
As he was waiting for his next match, Falco paced around the dark, futuristic room, lined with tubes of energy that glowed the colors of the rainbow. It was one of the many waiting rooms for the tournament, and he had gotten used to the low light levels and cold thudding footsteps.
A hallway extended straight into the battlefield, and the distant and muffled cheering of the crowd could just be heard. The hallway, however, was guarded by a tall man with a stubbly chin. His upper face was partially obscured by the shaded visor of his helmet, and he was clad in the standard security officer garb. It would be easy to mistake the imposing figure for what he appeared to be, but Falco knew better than that.
The man checked his watch, before he said-
"Okay. You're up." His voice was gruff, gravelly, and surely other descriptive words that started with G, or perhaps even words that didn't start with a G. Either way, the feathered fighter had always been wary of the frankly suspicious voice.
"Thanks David." Said the avian pilot, shoving him out of the way. "Anything on my opponent?"
The man scowled, but placed his hands behind his back as he stood more at ease. Why else would he be here, masquerading as a guard, if not because he considered Falco an ally? It was common for the ex-brawler to slip into a disguise and appear randomly around the tournament grounds, offering helpful advice and the like. "It's Snake, kid. Try not to blow my cover. You polish your Reflector?"
Falco scoffed as he strutted down the neon-light lined hallway, the bright light at the end nearly blinding him. "Another Marth clone? I'm getting tired of these re-used assets."
"Said the space animal." Snake replied, lighting a cigar and puffing on it in stride. "But keep on your toes with this one. I haven't gathered much data yet, but from what I've seen he's got plenty in the ways of ranged attacks. Magic, technology, whatever. Just watch your back."
He twirled his Blaster on his feathery finger, before slamming it into the holster at his side. Shaking his head and patting the man on the shoulder, he placed a boot into the light.
"Got it."
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The roar of a crowd greeted Falco, as he leapt and bound toward the circular arena, turning to meet all of the spectators, performing his usual boasts of "Get some!" and "He doesn't stand a chance!"
Suddenly, a loud crackling sounded off behind Falco, and he turned slowly to meet his opponent.
The man strolled across the cold metal floors slowly, a dark cloak drifting behind him as he drew back the hood to reveal a head of silver hair. In one hand, he slammed shut a worn yellow book with a symbol on it. In the other, he carried a sword so wavy it made the pilot think of a ripple chip.
"Falco, is it?" He asked, gently tucking the book into his robes. Had he been reading as he entered the arena? That almost rivaled Falco's own cockiness.
Almost.
The feathered hothead scoffed, and pointed his blaster to the giant jumbotron, where their names were displayed in a large, white font.
"Strong, silent type?" The man the Jumbotron dubbed as 'Robin' shook his head, massaging the bridge of his nose with two fingers. "Great..."
They waited a moment, until a huge flickering surrounded them, warping them to a place with vibrant sunlight.
Some of the ground was grey, with small vein-like streaks of blue energy. Falco didn't pretend to understand how the tech worked, but he knew that it did.
"3..."
Falco rolled his shoulders. The silverette readied his blade and calmly flipped through his books. One by one, color by color, until finally he had stuffed numerous into his robe and held a red one in his hand. Countless total, but most seemed to stick close to four different colors. Falco did his best to smile despite lacking lips. That usually meant different attacks. However, the way his opponent had managed to store oh-so-many in his robes was slightly unnerving.
Was his final smash like Meta Knight's? Did he engulf his enemies in his coat and swallow everything whole in his hammerspace?
"2..."
The area materialized, recealing them to be on a large platform, floating in the sky with sunlight shining in Falco's eyes. Grimacing, he blinked the light away and allowed his eyepiece to grow a shade darker and provide him with at least some sort of sight. He could only assume Robin would be blind as a bat.
"1..."
"Go!"
The man across from the bird immediately tossed a burst of fire at the ground in front of him, separating him and the pilot. A second later, a ball of light zoomed through the flames for the bird.
Through pure reflex he kicked out his Reflector, returning it to sender. Hearing a grunt as well as a crackle,, Falco assumed it was a hit and started running for his target, hopping over the now tiny flame.
The man was on one knee, yet not knocked down by the force of the blow as lightning danced across his coat. Direct hit! Leaping from the stage, Falco threw out a leg as he raced towards the downed magician.
Too easy! Balance patch incoming! thought Falco. Too soon, as the swordsman lashed out with his blade. The tip nicked the pilot's leg as the mage leaned to the side, barely avoiding taking the foot to the face. Falco flew past the man, convulsing mid-flight was electricity shook his frame and caused his eyepiece to spark. Immediately, Robin turned and made a sweeping motion, and a large green blade of air flew at the pilot and gave him a boost as he was almost launched over the edge.
Rolling to his feet, he spun and launched back towards the snow-haired tactician, leaving a trail of feathers in his wake as he sped forwards. Sliding to a stop just beside the man, he swiped at his face with a feathery limb and twisted, kicking at the robed mage's rear and causing him to go stumbling towards the edge.
Following up the flurry, he kicked out his Reflector once more before hearing a grunt of pain and seeing his opponent teetering over the ledge. Not wasting a moment, he darted forwards and prepared to finish it.
Robin suddenly launched another blade of wind, forcing the pilot to dodge forwards and under - right into the man's waiting boot. Falco managed to keep his footing, spinning with a break-dancing motion and kicking out at the man. He just needed to push him a little further-!
"Bolganone!"
And then he was blown backwards as the ground before him exploded into flames once more, launching him clear and also on fire. He can change his spells in combat?! What kind of broken mechanics are these?!
Scrambling back to his feet mid-tumble, he wasted not a moment before throwing himself back into the fray - his feathers alighting as he sped back at the mage. Jackpot.
"Thoron!"
The avian pilot couldn't stop his gaining momentum as a new attack entered the fight, a huge spear of energy charging headfirst towards him.
Ah crap...
The light, and the roar of the crowd was the last thing Falco recalled.
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Damn. That was so unfair! I'm calling it now - nerf! His ranged attacks were so OP!
He floated in a lightless void, slowly flipping. It felt like flying, if he were to be honest. A nice, familiar sensation.
Falco...
Wow… Deja vu. Cool...
"Falco."
His eyes snapped open, and the first thing that registered in his mind was that he was lying down.
The pilot still wore his uniform - though it was a bit crispier - and it was then that he realized the bed he was in didn't have a mattress.
Across the room, Fox stood stock-still. His eyes were shut, and a vein might have been bulging under all of that fur. His head was angled downwards, nose pointing to his feet.
"You lost to a newcomer." Was all he said, in disappointment, shaking his head. "Words cannot express…"
"Hey, we all lost plenty to that Rosalina chick and her tiny star." Falco snapped back, getting off the bed.
He noticed now, the room was dark, lit like something out of a movie. Weird...
"That's different, that star of her clings to her like a virus."
"Fox-" That was ridiculous! … It's more like a puppy than a virus! "I can-"
"From now on, I'm working with that Lucina girl." The space-animal cut him off, opening an eye. "Not forever, but for now. I doubt you've become reliant on me, so prove it in the field. Find a new partner, get good, and then we'll talk. It's for your own good."
His heart skipped a beat. No. They're buds, always have been, doesn't matter how many times they've fought. Why now?!
"W-what about Lucina's pal?" He recalled, blinking. "Didn't she used to work with someone?" Granted, his knowledge of the Marth-Clone was limited, but still. He was fairly certain Captain Falcon had mentioned something about it.
"Yup." Fox had already turned to leave, strolling towards the door. "Robin. I think they had a falling out or something? Something about a dragon trying to destroy some world… I think? I dunno. I wasn't really listening."
"That sounds pretty important, Fox!"
"See ya, Falco." He said as he slammed the door to the room.
Ah…
Falco stared at the door, partnerless.
Damn it.
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