Disclaimer: All characters and settings are copyright to Nintendo.
Notes: Set with the Melee roster. Most recent edit April 2015.
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A STEP DOWN
FROM PERFECT
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o-o- CHAPTER 1: IN CASE YOU WERE WONDERING -o-o
In a fashion that suggested Master Hand couldn't care less for response, he turned out of the foyer and in his wake, left a horde of bemused Smashers and offensive match lists.
"Team battles," Falco spat, as though the combination of these two innocent words created the name of his ultimate nemesis. "I'd been doing really well without them. Why has Master Hand suddenly brought them back?"
With twenty-five Smashers total, only twenty-four could play when the matches were team based. Twelve teams, six games, one extra. It was almost a game in itself, working out the missing name in a quick a speed as possible.
Naturally, Samus Aran worked it out long before anyone else.
"It's Samus!" Ness exclaimed, grinning in a similar likeness to a child who had just earned himself a prize. Various pairs of eyes – of all sizes and differing temperaments – rolled in her direction.
Samus was safe within her power suit. Any curious stares and contemptuous comments just bounced off the metallic shell, and when she failed to offer a reaction to being left out, everyone promptly forgot about her. She wouldn't go as far as saying she liked it, but she was most certainly used to it.
"I would gladly trade places with you," Mewtwo remarked. He had his back against the wall and his sinewy arms folded. Samus didn't know him very well (since he was a relatively new addition to the roster) but she had the feeling he wasn't unfamiliar with exclusion and being the permanent third wheel. She thought about what to reply to him, yet by the time she had come up with a pointless answer, Mewtwo had moved on and left the foyer.
-x-
The first Smash match happened to be Mewtwo's highly unexciting team match with Pikachu, Pichu and Young Link. The Smashers' box was already cramped and noisy, given Samus had arrived fashionably late. She squeezed into the back row, out of sight and out of reach.
Her view was very good. She couldn't see much of Pokemon Stadium at all, courtesy of Bowser deliberately sitting in the front row; however, Marth Lowell was shuffling into the seats right in front of her. His entourage – consisting of Zelda, Roy and a probably-misguided Game and Watch – followed after him and fussed over their seating arrangement.
Samus tried not to let it bother her. The fact remained, though, that Marth was agonisingly close to her, ushering Zelda into a middle seat to give her the best view. His every move was in painful detail, from the light ripples of his cape to the way he kept pushing his fringe out his eyes. When Marth turned to sit down, he saw Samus. He gave a crooked smile, as though it cost him and Samus nothing at all.
"Samus has no name today? Don't worry, okay?" Marth slammed a fist into an open palm jokingly. "Marth will beat up Master Hand."
The Prince of Altea's only flaw was his poor grasp of the universal language. Though he was a lot more coherent than Roy, it was difficult to understand Marth at times. He typically referred to himself in the third person, threw in random foreign words without realising and had to use his dictionary every few minutes. But Samus liked listening to that chipped, broken language of his, even though it was rarely directed at her.
Marth draped one arm over his chair, his back curving round so that he could look behind him. One eyebrow was arched ever so slightly in bemusement at Samus' lack of an answer. He smiled a bit more, and it seemed to stretch into his eyes which, once they had caught Samus' attention, were difficult to pull away from. She answered in the only way she could around him – honest, and mercifully unheard.
"Perfect."
Marth smiled again, turned back round and got back to viewing the match.
Samus watched the back of his head. She watched how it inclined to the left, closer to Zelda as she said something to him. She watched how strands of blue hair just scraped the back of his collar.
Sometimes, she'd imagine she was someone like Zelda. She was convinced her hand would be different. She'd be dealt fairer cards of nobility, eloquence and charisma. She'd have to scrap her space suit (because no tiara or ball gown would go with that) and she'd have to style her hair (because people would be looking at her), and she'd remember how easy it was to smile.
Most of the time, though, she hated him. She hated the limbo he dropped her in, of being her acquaintance and nothing more, of casual smiles and sympathetic words and then the cold shoulder.
"Enough is enough."
She jumped, and when space suits jumped, everything seemed to shake. "What?"
Captain Falcon slumped into the seat next to her. "I was at the front row, trying to convince Bowser to swap seats with Yoshi so that people could actually see. You know, in case you were wondering where I was," he added for some reason. "Anyway," he ploughed on, before Samus could tell him she didn't give a shit about where he had been, "to make a point, Bowser's now taken up two seats. Unbelievable."
Samus dragged her attention from Marth to a resigned Falcon. It wasn't the easiest transition to make. His brawny arms were folded and he had slouched so far in his seat, his forehead was practically level with the backrest. It was a stark contrast to the poised Prince in front.
"Take off your helmet," said Falcon, "I'm trying to talk to you here."
She scowled, although it went amiss. She lifted off the helmet, winced a little at the cold outside air and shook back her tangled hair. She had tied it up in a scruffy ponytail in a rush earlier that morning. Zelda's long tresses of golden brown had been weaved into a plait and a sparkling headband adorned the top of her head. Samus supposed Zelda didn't own a scrunchie (or even knew what one was). "What is it, Falcon?"
He was an ordinary guy with ordinary ambitions. There was nothing particularly worthy of note about Captain Falcon, save for the fact that he had the loudest voice in the Mansion. Samus knew very little of his background, despite knowing him since their first day at Smash Mansion. He was from Port Town, loved racing and had his own car. That was about it.
On the battlefield however, Samus knew everything. He excelled in speed and power, and while many called him flamboyant with his attacks, they worked nonetheless. However, Falcon did have a running streak of self destructs, owing to his reckless nature. She remembered looking over their stats together at one point; he had laughed off his carelessness, unaffected by how it was holding him back from top tier.
"Are you up for some training this afternoon?" Falcon asked her his usual question. In a similar way to Marth only noticing her out of sympathy, Falcon only sought her for sparring.
She sparred with him regularly: he tested her resilience against power, she challenged his skills against projectiles. A lot of the time, they'd stay on the battlefield long after training, just to chat. It was nothing special, merely a way to chill out following strenuous exercise.
It was always a little odd how she came out of these chats feeling like she hadn't learned anything at all.
"...Yeah, we can train," she said, if only to bat him away quicker. "Provided you don't end up in the hospital wing after your match."
"I'm up against Roy and the Ice Climbers. It'll be a breeze." Falcon stretched out his legs and propped his arms behind his head. "I think," he added.
"Red team's won!" Mario shouted from the front row. "Well done!" He jumped up and down, cheering. On the Stadium, Ness and Pikachu were doing victory dances round each other. On the other side of the map, Mewtwo rounded on Pichu, who promptly began to cry, and Master Hand shot down from his spot above the Stadium to intervene.
"We're next!" shouted Luigi. "I'm gonna win!"
"Yeah, but only because Marth is on your team," Falco pointed out sourly.
"Okay, my turn," said Marth.
"Good luck," Zelda said. She leaned over and pressed her lips against his. When they pulled apart, she whispered something in his ear. It could have been a sweet nothing, it could have been a joke at someone else's expense. Either way, Marth broke into a silly grin, kissed her again and mouthed—
"So, is it Big Blue or PokeFloats?" Falcon ruined her concentration.
"I don't really care," she said crossly. "You decide, and I'll agree."
"Big Blue it is then."
Marth got up to leave, and Zelda's hand slid out of his. Falcon was only too happy to postpone his conversation so that Samus could watch Marth go without interruptions. The Prince didn't look at her. As he got ready to battle on the Stadium, he looked like he was craning his neck round. But it was Zelda who waved back.
Samus felt the urge to jam her helmet back on and hide in it. Before she could though, Falcon suddenly touched her arm. She was protected by the metal of her suit, but she still recoiled. It was an alien feeling, being treated gently by him. She was used to his attacks when they sparred.
"...What's up?" she asked him. The countdown began and the team battle started.
"Just planning ahead. I'm taking my car down to the garage to get a few bits fixed. If you fancy a trip to Mute City..."
It wasn't a perfect suggestion; Mute City was crowded and dangerous. She didn't know a thing about the Blue Falcon, and it was a one-man car anyway.
(Marth did a perfect arc in the air as he attacked.)
"...What do you think?" Falcon asked. "Or is it your turn tonight to clear up the Items Warehouse?"
She shook her head. "Roy has tonight. I'm free."
"Perfect!" said Falcon heartily, and he sounded like he meant it.
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END CHAPTER 1
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