Ness and Jeff were speechless as the smog dispersed before them. Ness shattered the silence: "Man, what are we gonna do now?" He turned to Jeff, whose gaze remained. "…Jeff?" Ness traced his friend's observation back to the destruction before them. To his surprise, there was something else amongst the town hall's unsettled debris; the silhouette of a figure. A cloudy patch of dusk in the shape of a boy was positioned atop a jagged mound of mortar. Its eyes obstructed the light that filtered through the floating fragments. A single blot emerged, as the figure's left side was drowned in darkness.
Ness soon realised who they were squinting their eyes at. In a burst of energy, he stepped back and rushed to the rooftop door. "Jeff, don't go anywhere near that guy!" Ness asserted, as he turned to direct his voice up the stairway to his fearful friend. Not even his best sneakers could propel him as fast as his feet urged to run. Ness was usually an adept runner, but the weight of the trouble he was in left him dismayed; his descent was a clumsy scamper. He brushed the handrail with his fingers, sprinted down each step in quick succession, knocked his bat on the wall, forced out breath with every lunge of his legs. His sneakers squeaked against the tiles as he twisted his body to the side, as if to free the door in his path from its hinges. He swept his hand across the doorknob, flinging it open.
There it was; there it used to be. The town hall's remains; a magnificent wasteland, veiled in its own particulates. The only colour to be seen was that of the brown piping protruding at random angles, and on the remnants of what was a neighbouring billboard. All that was left of it was grey slabs, shattered into all shapes and sizes.
Ness scanned the rubble for the familiar figure. Jolting his head left and right, his observation failed him. For he was facing the wrong direction.
"Behind you."
Ness swung his body around, taking his bat with him at full speed. But there was nothing to hit it with.
Ness' face contorted in frustration. "What the f-"
"Here!" That voice again. Deafeningly quiet. A cold whisper that stabbed the silence like an icicle through bone.
Ness threw his body back around, before it froze. He'd landed right in front of two eyes.
"Found you." Ness squeaked through bared teeth, his shoulders ajar.
"Eventually." A slender sound escaped from under its gaping stare.
Ness' courage stabilised him. He withdrew himself from the close encounter. Recognition stirred more and more within him.
The Villager appears to be no more than a merry little man. A uniform curve of a smile is situated beneath his most distinctive feature: a triangular nose. In fact, his nose is a squashed triangular-based pyramid, with a pastel shade of red, similar to that of a rosy blush. He is taciturn, an observer, who gazes with a pair of black holes for eyes. But it was not his appearance that granted him a place in the tournament. His presence is that of a lingering undertaker. Initiating a conversation with the Villager is like opting for a recurring interrogation, in which he is the inquisitor. His relentless presence on the battlefield hindered his fellow Smashers' ability to trust him, but friendship is a trivial pursuit, a means to an end. This child singlehandedly raised a budding village into a branching network, forming connections with a nearby bustling city as well as an island. He'd earned enough money during his career to fund the building of his own mansion. Knowing someone so potently coercive, yet reserved, is both a blessing and a curse. The most reckless of the fighters convinced themselves that he was a harmless child, and thus made him their enemy. The others chose to embrace his capricious callousness, or avoid him at all costs.
Ness' eyes fixed themselves on the red shirt as soon as a blue number 1 arose into view, then retreated to his bat grip as his fist tightened around it in embarrassment. The redness of the boy's shirt had rubbed off on Ness' face. The moment had soon passed: "Why'd you do that?!" His flush returned to an angered ruddiness as he cried out. The Villager shrugged.
Ness' face was a blank canvas, disregarding the crumbly plaster and patches of chalk his cohort was caked in. After a second of stillness, Ness' blood boiled. He gesticulated in a callow temper, turning to the door. "Why I oughta…" As he walked, the Villager looked on, gratified by Ness' huff. Ness clipped his bat on the door as he held it open for him. "Ya comin' or not?"
Jeff was sat cross-legged on the rooftop, hard at work. He was hastily searching his apparatus for the reason why his prototype disastrously collided with the earth. He desperately needed a means of controlling their trajectory. His eyes, as near-sighted as they are, were tracing the base of a detached thruster, as he held it but an inch away from his face.
The rooftop door's handle creaked downwards. An impulse shot through Jeff in reaction; he instantly looked up towards the door, loosening his grip, and accidentally dropping the delicate component.
"Hey, nerd, check out who we nearly killed." Ness thumbed his nose at Jeff as he approached. He then pointed backwards with it, to the Villager, whose presence vexed Jeff as he trailed along his comrade's footsteps. Behind his glasses, Jeff failed to keep his head up and discern the Villager. His inveterate eyes induced fear in him, black and unblinking, like a vat of dark eco. Jeff retreated to his work after mere seconds of eye contact with the newcomer.
Jeff retained some peace of mind when Ness' weathered laces came into view. His soles arched upwards as he bent down to Jeff's level.
"So, what did ya- hey!" Ness collided with the concrete, for the Villager had forced him aside. His crippling stare had interrupted Jeff's reach to the component, freezing him on the spot. A forefinger sprouted from his freakish hand, and was placed upon the contraption. The other was clasping the throat of his axe, its head a hair-raising red.
"You built this, didn't you?"
