"Back with fury. Does this mean I have fury?
"As usual, I have no access to any licensing. Let it…Begin!"
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Rage. Fury. Betrayal.
Hatred.
Lucas punched the wall in of room, piercing paint and crushing plaster. Thankfully, he had the room at the end of the hall—anyone who heard the noise would probably think he'd fallen out of bed or his chair. For his part, the psychic youth's hand hurt now. But it didn't compare to how his heart felt, stretched taut between his attraction to Nana and his feelings about Ness' opposition.
How could he? Ness was Lucas' best friend, his greatest ally in the Compound. Sure, Popo and Nana were wonderful chums, but the male Climber was too worried about his sister, who Lucas wanted to be more than friends with. But now Ness was imposing himself between the blond and the brunette. It was too horrible to conceive!
And yet, here the situation had placed itself before Lucas, who had retreated to his room after the Brawl. The young man had options available to him, that much was certain. But Lucas was confused, hurt, and jaded by his pain. Only the smallest rational part of Lucas' brain kept him from marching straight up to Ness and dragging the fellow Smasher through the mud until his face had been scraped clean off. No, he couldn't do that. There were rules—practically laws—forbidding the harming of compatriots outside of protected combat. To even think of attacking another Smasher was dangerous.
Lucas sat at his desk and forced himself to calm a little. No, there had to be some sort of diplomatic way of resolving this problem. Perhaps simply asking Nana who she liked better?
No. Blatant rejection would be worse if Ness was the one she desired. Lucas could handle her refusing his offers at dating, but if Ness was the one she chose over him, the blond would probably end up in despair. He couldn't go through that again.
Lucas examined the patterns in the desk's wood. Lines of dark material streaked through the lighter brown. Every so often, a knot of wood would twist the lines into a circle, not unlike a river skirting an island. The lines all pointed side-to-side—a generic shape and design seen on school desks everywhere. Lucas thought back to the old Mansion, whose desks were hand-carved into Smasher-specific patterns. So that was how the big Hand had afforded the Compound…
Scrutinizing the table calmed Lucas' fervent mind. Soon, the PSI-wielder was thinking not of the previous battle, but of the Mansion and its specially-designed features. The tables in the dining hall, which Master Hand had kept, were fire-hardened wood pieces made by master craftspeople in Archanea, one of Marth's favored lands. The chairs, also still in use, were made in Macedon, where some of the nobleman's friends resided. Each bed was brought from each individual fighter's homeland, as were most of the furnishings. Lucas' own room had been a rather comfortable room with posters of his favorite movies lining the walls.
Graaawl. Lucas jumped at the sound, only to realize that it was just his stomach. Though the Smashers were given nearly unlimited energy in the Brawls to keep them from making silly mistakes, the whole system required the fighters' metabolisms to work in overdrive. A three-life bout could let some of the most conservative fighters eat an entire three-course meal. Ninety-nine-stock fights would leave any Smasher utterly starved, able to outstrip the supply of many restaurants in Smashville. The two-stock match, plus Lucas' extreme feelings, left the psychic with an empty belly.
Chuckling at his private display of jumpiness, Lucas stood up from his desk and headed for the dining hall, which was now a separate facility from the dorms. Something to eat would calm the nerves and stomach alike.
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The dining hall was all but deserted. Red was nearby, playing with Squirtle by using Brussels sprouts as practice targets for the turtle's Water Gun attack. Other than the Trainer, though, only the kitchen staff, composed of Alloys, was to be found in the one-level building.
Lucas walked up to the counter and made his order, a classic cheeseburger without lettuce, onions, or tomatoes with a side of hash browns. It wasn't his favorite meal, but Lucas wasn't hungry for roast duck a la king with potatoes and corn on the side. That kind of meal was best saved for a special occasion.
Lucas made his way to a table by the windows overlooking the commons. The large evergreen tree in the middle of the field was a popular meeting place, as well as Lucario's preferred meditating dojo. Lucas could see the Pokémon in the tree now, just climbing down after his midday ruminations.
The clink of plates hitting wood drew Lucas' attention. A Red Alloy had brought his food, fresh and steaming from the cooking processes. Master Hand's ovens, burners, and microwaves were magically enhanced to speed up cooking to be almost instant. It took the skilled hands of specifically-trained Alloys, who spent their time in the kitchens rather than in the training rooms, to work the cooking utensils properly. The last time someone had tried to use an oven, the attempt at a turkey casserole ended up as ash. The smell had stayed in the walls for a week.
Lucas dug immediately into his burger, taking in the succulent aroma of beef and melted cheese with delight. The sandwich tasted even better than it smelled—the entire entree melted in Lucas' mouth and released the most potent flavors of its parts, mixing them all into one great final product to be savored at one's leisure.
The process repeated itself over and over, each bite just as delicious as the previous ones. Once the main course was nothing more than crumbs on the plate, Lucas started on the hash browns. The strips of potato were crunchy, but not dry. Pieces stuck together of their own accord, allowing the youth's fork to pick up piles with ease.
Lucas downed about one third of his side when he looked out the window again. In that moment, all of his pain and rage flooded back into his body.
At the tree, playing a sort of peek-a-boo game, were Ness and Nana. The children were leaning around the tree, making faces at each other in a juvenile manner. What got Lucas' blood boiling, though, was the odd vibe Nana gave off. It wasn't that she didn't want to be there. The aura was more along the lines of wanting to be somewhere else. This enraged Lucas to no end. How could Ness keep her from…whatever she wanted to do?
Potatoes forgotten, the blond Smasher stomped outside, all limits abandoned. Being in his way is one thing, but Ness wasn't allowing Nana to go about her business. Such discourtesy would not be tolerated. It just wasn't chivalrous!
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Ness felt a sort of shock go up his spine—a sure warning of danger. He turned around to find Lucas stomping towards him, rage obscuring his normally bland face. Ness thought back to the Brawl earlier, then reflected on what he had just been doing. Lucas was angry about this? So the hat-wearing psychic got a turn playing with Nana. That was no big deal. The baby should share!
But sharing was clearly not even close to Lucas' mind. One foot fell in front of the other with horrible tremors; and with each step, Lucas brought power to his clenched fists.
Was Lucas upset about Nana? Tough luck. If he wanted to play games with Nana, he shouldn't have stalked off after the match. Ness got to her first—Ness had claimed the right to Nana's attention! The bat-wielder pumped mental energy into his hands. If Lucas wanted a fight, he was going to get one. The clash of the two PSI-powered Smashers wouldn't last long; Ness would ensure that.
Nana looked from one boy to the other. Both had strange, determined faces coated with some other emotion. Lucas had rage boiling in his eyes, while Ness responded with a defiant glare. Nana knew there was no way to stop the two of them by herself. Getting caught in the middle would only get her hurt. Or worse.
Seeing no other recourse, the female Ice Climber dashed off in search of somebody—anybody—with the power to halt this impossible feud.
Both boys faced each other, sparks dancing at their fingertips and jealousy flaring across their features. The two surveyed the other, both trying to predict his foe's first move and the best counter for the attack. For Lucas and Ness, time ground to a halt yet again as the former friends decided on their first courses of action.
They moved as one.
Surprise flickered across both psychics' faces when they pulled out the same move. One PSI Magnet faced its twin, both humming softly, almost praying for the Smashers to stop before somebody was injured.
The imagined pleas were ignored.
Ness pulled his barrier down first and rushed towards Lucas, bat in hand. The two weren't limited to the constraints of the Brawls; any moves in their arsenals were open for this battle. But using their respective PK Life-Up techniques was out of the question. There would be no time to charge the technique before its user was on the ground, bleeding and broken. Former opponents might have allowed such luxuries. There was none of that here.
The hat-bearing warrior pulled out his bat and swung vertically at Lucas' head. But instincts and reflexes honed by continual fighting save the blond. Lucas rolled to the side and pulled out his Rope Snake. The reptile was quickly used like a whip, snapping above Ness' head and grabbing onto the brim of the youth's hat. In a bold move, Ness tossed his cap aside and charged again, this time with yoyo in hand. With his wild hair swirling around his face, the psychic drilled the toy into his former pal's stomach, winding the blond.
Lucas knew there would be a welt there later, but there was an advantage to not being on a Brawl stage—some moves were less deadly. A simple hit from a toy wouldn't cause critical damage so easily. But it would give Ness enough time for—.
Oh no.
Lucas hardly had time to roll past Ness before a pink wave ripped through where he had just been. The ground was torn asunder for a full twenty feet before the shot dissipated. The air surrounding Ness was still charged with PSI energy. Such a blast of Ness' signature move, PSI Rockin, and the kid wasn't even winded. The combats, made safe as they may have been, were still a great way to boost oneself to the limit.
Of course, Ness wasn't the only one who could pull that off.
Jumping to his feet, Lucas readied a blast of his own identifying technique. PK Love was weakened for the stage battles for safety and balance, but here, the full power of the attack could be unleashed.
Ness seemed to expect this, though. He charged another blast of PSI Rockin, ready to meet Lucas in a show of direct force. There would be no holding back for these two now.
Lucas launched.
Ness launched.
The attacks met. With the two boys at point-blank range, the effects were immediate. As the two Smashers poured their hearts, souls, and minds into the energy waves, blue hexagons and pink lines pushed against each other violently and without pause. If the meeting point of the attacks ended up at the hands of one of the fighters, the victim would take the full brunt of both psychic spells.
It never reached that point.
The energies overloaded each other and detonated, launching the two psychics back and away. The fighters were both horribly burned; clothes smoldered and hair smoked as the energies cooked the skins of both Smashers. But it wasn't over.
Both stood at the same time. Ness and Lucas looked at each other. Neither was in any condition to continue the illegal fight, but that wouldn't stop them. It was silently agreed on, though; it would only take one more hit each to finish this.
Their ultimate moves too dangerous to try again, both boys reached deep into their minds to call forth their next-greatest moves.
A giant blue snowflake hovered above Lucas' head as a pulsating green light floated from Ness. It would be PK Freeze against PK Flash. There would be no escape for either of them; they were both immobilized by their individual concentrations. The devastating energies soared towards their intended targets. Ness had power on his side, meaning a blow could kill Lucas right there.
But Lucas was faster. And that made all the difference.
The snowflake exploded into a flash-freezing burst of utter cold, leaving Ness encased in ice, a living statue and testament to the illicit battle.
The PK Flash fizzled out at Lucas' feet. The blond, assured of his victory, strode forth. But by now, bloodlust had replaced any other emotion. If Ness was going to try to take Nana, he could not be allowed to live. Lucas stopped, breathed in, and charged a PK Fire. And the charge kept building, until the psychic couldn't contain it—.
And was slammed into the dirt. The energy flare quickly disappeared back into Lucas' body, energy unspent and charge cancelled. Lucas struggled with everything he had, but he was bound by some sort of cord.
Not rope. Vines.
Lucas followed his eyes back to their source. As expected, Ivysaur was there, looking rather upset. Behind it was Red, Nana in tow.
By the hand.
Suddenly Lucas understood. As the blood in his ears started returning to its normal rhythm, coherent thought became possible again. Ness never had feelings towards Red. In fact, he'd been infatuated with Nana longer than Lucas had been!
The cold glares Ness always directed at the Pokémon Trainer were gazes of jealousy.
Red and Nana were dating.
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Lucas sat, knowing his punishment would be nigh. Mario, in his iconic doctor's outfit, had said that the frozen youth had been thawed successfully and would awaken at anytime now. All Master Hand needed was Ness' version of the events before judging the infatuated blonde's fate. As it was, Lucas knew that the repercussions of his actions would be severe, ranging easily into expulsion from the Smash World.
As the heart monitor beeped in the background, the psychic stared at the floor and did his best to shake off the implied gaze of the giant white glove in front of him. It was amazing how a benevolent disembodied hand could strike terror into a person that had known him for years.
Finally, Ness groaned and rolled over. The blank eyes opened slowly, automatically homing in on the giant hand in the room. Lucas tuned out the conversation that followed. Ness was lucky to survive being frozen outside of the combats, and everyone knew it. Only thanks to Mario's physician side was the dark-haired boy in any condition besides dead.
At length, Master Hand floated out of the room. Lucas stayed where he was; the Hand-lord had not beckoned to him. Nervous sweat poured down his back, and his eyes, so like Ness', were glazed over in tears. He had never meant to come to this point—never! Now he'd be sent home to his own world, dishonored and ashamed. There was little left at home to go back to, though. Few friends, no family, a ruined world…
A small cough repeated itself through Lucas' ponderings. Finally, the source made the most absurd cough possible that the blond was pulled back into the medical ward. Looking up, the eyes of the two psychics met.
And truth was shown.
Ness had told his part of the story, but he had not blamed Lucas entirely. In fact, the older boy had found more respect for his friend than ever before. Slowly, weakly, the dark-haired psychic extended a fist, grinning in spite of everything.
Lucas smiled back softly and leaned forward. Left fist met weakened right, sealing all animosity for good. Lucas would still be punished, but he would stay at his true home: the Smash Compound.
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"Total story words: 5866. It was less than 6000, which was a primary goal.
"And now I get to splurge on this note now that I'm done. This was interesting to write. Jimbo, you are absolutely correct when you say we rely too much on dialogue. It was pretty hard to resist even quoting that little cough at the end. But this is done now.
"Everyone, I must say that this was an interesting experience. But it must also be pointed out that dialogue has its place, too. Jimbo knows this (I bet), and now I see even better what he means. Jimbo, thank you for this challenge.
"Honestly, I was pretty miffed when our good host upped the word total and the submission date. But it turned out to be a good thing for me in the end. Still, I don't know when we'll see the results now…
"Lucas' punishment is totally up to you. Eat ice cream until he explodes? Go for it. Get buried by tacos? It's done. Off scot-free? That' ain't happenin'. Justice and blah, blah, blah.
"I think I've kept you all long enough. Total word count: check the little stats bar on the story list page. Until next time: ciao chow!"
