Chapter Two: Lesson Learned
A/N: New chapter! Something about updates: I think I'll have at least 2-3 chapters uploaded each week, so hold tight!
And before I forget...DISCLAIMER: I OWN NONE OF THESE CHARACTERS! ALL CHARACTERS BELONG TO NINTENDO, SEGA, ETC.!
Samus was exhausted.
Through the day, she had endured the basically involuntary "tea time" with Zelda and the other girls' giggles (which included her own fake giggles and contemplating the tough decision of if staying there or staying near Snake was worse), watched Pikachu suffer from the Brawl with King Dedede and his stupid hammer, battled in her own strenuous Brawl against the hardy Meta Knight (she barely lost—she blamed the hormones), concocting and bringing Pikachu's favorite food to the infirmary, and survived the raucous dinner with the rowdy Smashers while choking down Sonic's definition of food. To say the least, Samus thought she deserved that bubble bath and scented candle before bed.
Feeling a tad better, Samus crawled into bed. Across the room, she noticed Zelda and Peach were both already snoozing lightly. Jigglypuff had returned to Red and the other Pokémon. Samus noticed the time—11:24 PM.
Sighing, she blew out the lemon scented candle and pulled the covers up to her chin. Samus decided that tomorrow, she'll detox and relax with some tea and hang out with Pikachu for the whole day, maybe send Ridley a good morning letter with a bomb in it. There were no Brawls scheduled for her or any Brawlers for that matter (rest day), which was a relief. But for now, tonight was going to be a good night's sle—
BEEP BEEP BEEP! Annoyed, Samus plugged her ears and curled up into a tight ball, pulling the blanket over her whole body. It felt like she just closed her eyes before the alarm—wait, why was the alarm set? It was supposed to be a rest day for all Smashers.
Samus reached out and smacked the alarm clock quiet muttering something identical to "Shut the hell up" before retreating back under her blanket cocoon…only for it to be yanked off again with Peach's cheerful voice screeching into her ears.
"Wakey, wakey, Sammie!" Peach chirped. Teeth chattering, Samus roughly retorted, "Dammit Peach! Gimme back my blanket!"
Peach, however, called for backup. "ZEEEELLLLDDIIEE! SAMMIE NEEDS HELP WAKING UP!" Zelda emerged from the shower with still-wet hair. Together, Zelda and Peach literally dragged Samus out of the comfort of her bed, and while doing so, Samus caught a glimpse at the clock and thought, Why the hell am I getting up at 6:30 AM?
"All right, all right, I'll get up!" she reluctantly conceded. Samus stood up and noticed that Zelda and Peach were already wide awake and groomed, both slathered with makeup and junk like that. Yeah right, Samus thought. She simply slipped on an electric blue bathrobe and roughly piled her hair into a messy ponytail.
"Tell me why I'm waking up at this unholy hour on our rest day?" she asked gruffly. "Oh, Master Hand ordered all Smashers to gather in the living room for some announcement of some sort," Zelda replied indifferently. Master Hand…? This couldn't be good, Samus deduced, because Master Hand never called for meetings unless it was for something serious.
And right she was. Samus didn't know how she could tell, but the appearance of Master Hand looked utterly distressed but all the same time determined. The rest of the Smashers were there, looking just as groggy as Samus felt (well, except for Zelda and Peach), mumbling disjointed complaints to each other.
"What a bunch of bull," Fox grumbled.
"Mmf," replied Falco. He was too busy using Dedede's stomach as a pillow. Said king was already snoring sonorously. Dedede flipped onto his stomach, pinning Falco under his massive weight. Fox came to the conclusion that Falco was too sleepy to even notice what was happening, not dying from suffocation.
Master Hand scanned the room and took note that all Smashers were present. He cleared his throat (somehow) for their attention.
Nobody acknowledged him.
"Crazy, come here please," the right hand ordered for his left hand brother.
"CrAzY hAnD aT yOuR sErViCe, SiR!" Crazy Hand responded.
Master Hand motioned at the rambling Smashers. The more the fighters whined, the more Master Hand agreed he had made the right decision.
"HONK HONK! YOUR MASTER NEEDS YOU HOOLIGANS' ATTENTIONS! GET IT? MASTER? AS IN, MASTER…HAND? HAHA! I CRACK MYSELF UP!" Crazy screeched.
Only the front closest Smashers turned their heads in Master and Crazy Hand's direction.
Crazy was offended.
"YOU BASTARDS!" Crazy shrieked and proceeded to lift his middle finger at the Smashers. Somehow, that caught all their attentions unlike Crazy's insane attempt before.
"Crazy!" Master Hand exclaimed, appalled. But Crazy promptly twirled around in a manner like spinning on his heel, and glided grouchily away.
Everyone in the living room was dead silent and watched Crazy's departure, then turned and faced Master Hand like loyal kittens.
Master Hand cleared his throat. "I have been noticing you Smashers has had better days, like the first days you all were enrolled in the Smash Mansion." The hand paused for a moment. The only sound was the sound of the air conditioner blowing cool air around the living room. Master Hand enjoyed a brief spurt of relief from the cold wind blowing at the sweat forming.
"Your first days were like you were visiting a fancy restaurant—composed, respectful, wise. However, each day has grown more slack and less productive, having ME"—Master Hand had his thumb poking from his fist at the back of the living room, much like pointing to himself, for emphasis—"pay DAILY bills for the mansion to be repaired with all YOUR"—the hand drew in his thumb and poked his index finger at the Smashers—"reckless deeds. I had never encountered a day as clamorous as yesterday, and I assume each day will only grow worse. Your behavior this morning was actually the event that solidified my decision."
Master Hand stopped for a moment for fearful anticipation. "I've decided—"
"SPOILER!" came Crazy's ringing voice down the hallway. "YOU GUYS HAVE TO CLEAN THE MANSION UNTIL IT'S AS WHITE AS ME AND BRO!"
The Smashers peered back at Master Hand, horror and dread readable in their eyes, praying that Crazy was just joking.
Master Hand smirked(?) to himself and confirmed, "What he said."
No sooner had the words left his mouth(?) the entire room erupted into wails and cries of protest. Master Hand thought apathetically, Well, at least my work here is done. And he modestly put up on a giant screen the respective tasks for each Smasher.
"Watch it, loser!" grouched Wolf, sharply swiping white, feathered wings from his face, abruptly pausing from scrubbing the kitchen walls with a soggy sponge. Wolf and Pit were assigned to polish the kitchen in tip-top shape.
"You watch it, jerk!" Pit tossed back. "You're lucky today's rest day otherwise I would've had several arrows in all the places you wouldn't want them to be!"
Wolf snorted. "Ha. You can't even lay a finger on me, because I'll just simply use my deflector and counter your measly attack!"
"And I'll counter that with my Mirror Shield!"
"Then I'll send it right back at ya!"
"So I'll bounce it back again!"
This went on for a while.
Link was plodding down past the kitchen at the time, lugging a bulky vacuum muttering, "Ike should be doing this from carrying that Ragnell around all the time." His job was to vacuum the whole entire upstairs, and he nearly passed out when he heard he was required to do it all by himself. Link had pleaded for anyone to trade jobs, but no one wanted to drag an oversized vacuum over the entire upper floor.
He was in a very sour mood, and he secretly cursed Master Hand for making him do this sort of arduous labor. He briefly yanked off his cap, held his sweaty, matted blonde hair against the air conditioning vent, and continued on.
Link glimpsed in the kitchen and stopped to see Wolf and Pit at each-other's throats, strangling and claiming, "I'll break your feeble force first!"
"No I will!"
Link paused, considering if he should break them up and hail for the peace of Din, but then continued on with a shrug and an annoyed "They can deal with it by theirselves."
Nobody was in a good mood. Complaints and insults filled the mansion as the Smashers carried out their cleaning duties. Master Hand only thought, It's for the best.
"Why am I cursed with the worst possible choice?" moaned Ike.
"You're not the only one!" Marth griped.
He and Ike looked ruefully into the bathroom, both of them armed with full soapy buckets and eight brand new sponges.
"Now I know why Master Hand gave us the best cleaning supplies," Ike mumbled, eyeing the stained sink and foul-smelling toilet. The bathtub was tainted a beige from cleansing thirty-five dirty bodies and fallen hair and fur of all different colors were strewn on the floor.
Ike felt a sudden spurt of annoyance. "We got in trouble because youjust had to light me on fire!" Ike accused, pointing a judging finger at Marth.
Marth recoiled, shocked and insulted. "Well who was it that stole my tiara that forced me to take it to extreme measures?" he retorted.
"I told you before that I just wanted to look at it!"
"I never agreed to that!"
Ike and Marth both reached for their swords but grabbed nothing, and they remembered all weapons had been taken away for "rest day." They instead scowled at each other.
"We'll deal with this tomorrow—when I'm equipped with Ragnell," snarled Ike.
Marth matched his gaze and seethed in return, "And I with Falchion."
With that, they dipped the new sponges into the buckets and scrubbed, elbowing and kicking the other whenever possible.
Then, Ike took it to the next level and squirted mirror cleaner onto Marth's hair.
"…Bitch!" Marth exclaimed. "My…fucking…HAIR!" He water-slapped Ike with the remaining soapy water in the bucket (Ike secretly admitted it hurt), but Marth wasn't done yet. He opened any random cabinet and snagged any random object and whacked it repeatedly on the indigo-haired mercenary, because nobody messed with Marth's precious hair!
"Wait…ow…STOP!" Ike grabbed Marth's wrist. "What are you holding?"
Both of their gazes followed up to what was in Marth's grasp. A box…of…tampons.
"Eeeekkkk!" Marth dropped the offensive object and chucked it back into the cabinet (but not without catching an eyeful of "feminine products") and slammed it shut. That was when he noticed there was a sign on it: "NO BOYS ALLOWED!"
Needless to say, Ike and Marth scrubbed the bathroom without uttering another word.
"Do we really have to wipe all the lunch room tables and floor?" whined Ness.
"Guess we have to, or else we won't get candy for a month!" Nana pointed out.
"At least we kids get to work together in a group of five instead of two or one like the others!" Lucas said, trying to cheer everyone up.
"Yea! Way better than scrubbing this whole place by myself!" agreed Popo.
"Alright. Let's split up and start wiping the floor and these tables!" Toon proclaimed. They all stood in a circle and stacked their hands in the center. "Let's do this!" they declared in unison, and lifted their centered hands into the air with a combined battle cry.
An hour ticked by, and with the kids' little hands scrubbing a huge cafeteria, they only got a fraction of the room cleaned.
"Plan B," decided Toon. He thought for a second, then snapped his fingers and announced, "I got it!" He told everyone his brilliant plan.
Ten minutes later, the little Smashers were teetering on top of sponges on their feet. "If we can make it fun, let's make it fun!" cheered Ness.
"More fun…with more progress, too!" Nana shouted.
"That's a bonus!" Lucas approved.
"Now to get used to this…" Popo muttered. He dipped his sponge-feet in and took the first gliding step. Soon all the kids were skating around on sponges, covering every corner, leaving behind a gleaming surface. Popo and Nana skimmed across the floor while Toon, Ness, and Lucas were gliding on the tables, bubbles floating around the whole cafeteria and laughter in the air.
DK strutted by the lunch room, and he did a double take-he couldn't believe the sight. He had been sulking the whole day to himself, but looking at the young Smashers laugh, he felt a little lighter.
The gorilla continued on his way, towing the garbage bags with him, wishing he was a kid again. Enjoy it while you can, Diddy, he thought to his nephew.
"Aw, fuck!" Samus swore at that dingy nail that wouldn't stay in its place. She had asked for new nails from R.O.B., but he told her there weren't any new ones left in the mansion.
FLASHBACK:
"Hey, R.O.B. Got any more nails? 'Cause the old ones won't stay in the window frames," Samus said trying to keep irritation from biting her voice.
The robot glanced at her, then silently received data. "Item: Nails…Location: Smash Mansion…zero new nails in the Smash Mansion," R.O.B. informed.
Samus couldn't believe it. "There's gotta be extra!" she claimed.
"Item: Nails…Location: Smash Mansion…zero new nails in the Smash Mansion," R.O.B. repeated.
"Just give me the damn nails."
"Item: Nails…Location: Smash Mansion…zero new nails in the Smash Mansion."
Samus left before she tore the robot apart.
END FLASHBACK
Samus cussed again when the nail fell back out. Ugh, why did she have to fix window frames? She would rather fix cars or computers from the years repairing her power suit whenever necessary. Heck, she would even fix Captain Falcon's race cars or Snake's grenades if she had to.
Samus clutched the nail as tightly as she could. Oh how she just wanted to break this stupid thing… Then the strained nail cut into her skin. Samus let loose a barrage of cusses in all different combinations possible.
"Woah, easy there!" came a voice. "Cursing won't solve it faster. Need help?"
Samus whirled around, and saw Ike limply carrying an empty bucket, which she figured he was done with his task. Then she noticed several cardboard cuts adulterating the mercenary's skin. "How'd you get those?" she muttered, trying to draw attention out of her.
Ike suddenly looked uncomfortable. "Uh…never mind about me. It's you who needs help."
Before Samus could turn the spotlight back to Ike, Ike abruptly stepped close to her. Samus stifled back a gasp. Ike slowly reached for Samus's fisted hands, stealing glances to confirm it was okay, and carefully pulled her fingers open. Samus saw Ike flinch at the sight of her bloodstained palms with the culprit nail in the center of it.
Samus suddenly felt self-conscious with her bathrobe and messy bun she hadn't changed out of, and pulled her hand away. "Just a little scratch. I'm fine," she told Ike.
"No you're not." Ike tugged his black cloth headband off his head and tenderly wrapped the wound after removing the nail from it.
Samus bit her cheek from the pain.
Ike turned, and jammed the nail into its rightful place in the window frame with his immense strength. Then he waved at Samus and said, "See ya" before turning away and around the corner.
Samus stood there, and as she clasped her injured palm with the ends of Ike's headband tickling her forearms, she realized she hadn't even said thanks.
Finally, what all the Smashers had been waiting for, the sun went down and cleaning was over.
Master Hand watched the exhausted Smashers stumble into the living room, rubbing their shoulders, mumbling to theirselves, massaging their temples.
When all gathered, Master Hand had an easier time getting everyone's attention. "So, how did the day feel being productive for a change?" The hand plowed on after the rhetorical question. "It would've been easier if you kept up your chores. I hope everyone's learned their lesson and stop deteriorating the spirit in this mansion. I am no longer upset with you, for I saw how well you cleaned. Now you may disperse into your rooms. Goodnight, Smashers."
Master Hand picked himself up and floated to his office, finally feeling there was hope.
A/N: Just a little Ike and Samus (Ikus? SamIke?) fluff for ya ;)
I may or may not update tomorrow, because I have family plans for the day, but I'll see what I can get done.
Ta-ta for now!
-prowessMaster44
