On a side note: DDR now stands for Death Dancing Revolution.
Disclaimer: We do not own any of the following characters in the story. They belong to Nintendo.

Part Dos

Wolf-Hunting On The Halberd

Zip.

Zelda moved silently from wall to wall, poking around corners, waiting...

"AHA!" she yelped, jumping out behind a corridor to find the room completely empty.

Zelda scowled and screwed up her face. "Marth!" she called out angrily. "Come out and help me already!"

Marth slouched after her with a bored scowl. "Do you have to do that?" he begged. "You look like some spy-ninja-thing when you sneak around like that. Honestly."

Zelda growled at him, and Marth backed away quickly. "At least I'm making an effort. All you're doing is whining at me!"

Marth shrugged and continued to pace after her. "Can you blame me?" he yawned, stretching.

"Actually," seethed Zelda sarcastically, "yes, I can."

"On what evidence?"

"Let's think," Zelda said in a fake, sweet voice, spinning around so that they stood nearly nose-to-nose. "If you actually kept your trap shut then we might have the element of surprise! You're also lazy, ignorant, spoiled and rude!"

"Why, thank you—"

"I'M NOT FINISHED!" Zelda yowled, and Marth actually shrank away from her. He could almost feel her emanating rage.

"You're selfish, uncaring, unintelligent—..."

Meanwhile, above them Wolf was clinging to a fan and watching the scene with something between amusement and anxiety. He ought to have been congratulated on finding such a decent hiding spot on such short notice. His only problem was that he was itchy and he couldn't let go in order to scratch—

"...—disrespectful, a bad leader for your kingdom, unwilling to actually do some work, selfish—"

Marth raised a hand. "You're repeating yourself, you know."

Zelda snorted. "It's all the same thing, isn't it? Now keep quiet and follow me this time. No more potty breaks."

Marth placed a foot forward, about to follow, when something wet hit him on the forehead.

"And this stupid flying piece of shit is leaking," Marth grunted, glancing up. His mouth dropped open. Wolf was actually sweating from not being able to divulge into his longing and scratch every square inch of his fur.

He raised his right hand again. "Uhhh—? Zelda?"

Zelda was now rummaging through a closet in the next hall over. Her voice answered testily, "Shut up, Marth. Can't it wait?"

"But I—"

"You already went, so hold it."

"I found—"

"What?" Zelda poked her head back into the room with great self-control and dignity. "What's so important that you had t—"

"I found Wolf." Marth pointed up.

They both turned their faces upward the second Wolf cried, "IT ITCHES!" and fell down from the rafter. Zelda was on him in seconds, using a rope to bind him and one of Ash's dirty socks to gag him. Wolf twitched and began to wriggle, making muffled noises neither of them could decipher.

"It'll be all over soon," Zelda promised as she dragged Wolf by the collar in the same manor Diddy once had. Marth again shrugged and skipped along.

Ten minutes later...

And so the unlikely trio stood in the middle of a large bathroom, tub at one end and door at the other. To the right; cabinets, a sink, a trash can (not emptied yet by Pit) and a basket full of magazines. Facing it: a white toilet.

The "hostage" was now sitting on the ground with his back to the bathtub, while Marth was leaning against a wall, watching with interest, and Zelda was trying to locate the shampoo.

"—do you have any idea what Meta Knight said it looked like?"

"Nope."

"Oh, wait, I found it," Zelda said cheerfully, holding up a pink bottle labeled 'Canine conditioner'. "Hold this," ordered Zelda, tossing it at Marth. Marth caught it and read the label.

"Hey, it's supposed to smell like flowers!" Marth grinned evilly at Wolf. "Might be a talking point, eh, buddy?"

Under the heavy ropes Wolf struggled to make a rude hand gesture. Marth laughed and continued to read the label while Zelda went to go get towels. "It says: Warning: may cause severe allergic reactions, burning, swollen skin, temporary blindness if taken in through eyeballs, internal bleeding, bad taste and toxic reflux if accidentally or purposely eaten, and diarrhea—woah, there!" he snorted, clutching his ribs as he doubled up with laughter.

Zelda re-entered the room as Wolf began to whimper. She eyed Marth suspiciously. "What's so funny?"

"Giving dogs bathes," Marth answered tearfully, handing her back the shampoo. Dignity restored itself instantly and he stopped laughing, looking haughty and unconcerned again. "Now while you two have fun I'll be slacking off." Saying this, he flopped down on the toilet lid and grabbed a newspaper titled The Neopian Times.

Zelda crossed her arms sulkily. "And why won't you help?"

"Like you said, I'm unhelpful, rude, spoiled, lazy—if I helped you I'd be proving you wrong. I also don't care. It's funny to watch."

Zelda ignored this by turning around to glare at Wolf triumphantly. "Now, how do we go about this?" she asked him thoughtfully. "Will you cooperate and let me bathe you? Or are you going to fight me every step of the way?"

Wolf glared at her and spat something out through a mouthful of sock.

Marth beamed; "I almost forgot!" he sang as he crossed the room and ripped the sock out of Wolf's mouth. Wolf began to splutter and cough violently, kneeling over from the bad taste of feet and sweat and who knows what else.

"...waaaater..." he moaned. "Foul...evil...foul... Need water..."

"Excellent," Zelda stated warmly, "then get in the tub and we can get you some water."

"No."

A nerve twitched on the Hyrullian princess's temple. "Why?" she cried in exasperation. "It's just a bath! You'll be rid of your fleas and you'll be clean!"

Wolf shook his head firmly. "Nope. Nada. Not happening. Haven't taken one in thirteen months, and I won't take one now," he proudly recited. Meanwhile, Marth retched.

"That was you?!" he burst out, brushing his wavy blue locks out of his face. "Gawd, I thought that was Zelda who smelled so bad."

Zelda flushed angrily. "I actually make an attempt at cleanliness," she snapped haughtily, looking away. She glared at Wolf. "You'll get in and you'll like it," Zelda repeated in a more calmer voice than seconds before, attempting a cracked, slightly maniacal smile.

Wolf sneered. "You can't throw me in," he retorted. "Not when I have all my clothes and electronic gear on. You'll short-circuit everything!" He stuck out his tongue.

Zelda faked a look of hurt. "Oh, no, he sure stumped me," she shot back sarcastically. "I guess we can't give you a bath after all."

"Really?" Marth asked hopefully. "I thought you were just kidding."

"I was, dumb-ass," Zelda hissed, now dropping her guard completely and descending to the level of filthy language Link normally used.

Marth flinched, his happy face receding into sulky disappointment. He barred his teeth and hid behind the newspaper again.

Wolf stared up at Zelda with a triumphant look. "I need all of these to adapt and survive," he pointed out. "Now, untie met and let me get back to scratching every hair off my body, if you don't mind."

"Oh, but I do mind," Zelda replied in a strained sort of voice. Without warning she then reached down and snatched the eyepiece over Wolf's left eye. Wolf let out a yelp of surprise and struggled wildly against his binds.

"What are you gonna do with it?!" he asked in a hushed, terrified voice, his eyes growing wider and wider.

Zelda didn't answer imiedently, but instead began to bully Marth by poking him. "Move."

Marth looked up. "Do you mind?!" he hissed, bringing his knees up so that he was tucked into a less-comfortable position on his seat.

With a groan of exasperation she grabbed Marth by the elbow and shoved him off. He landed onto the floor in front of Wolf face-first, the newspaper fluttering out of his hands before hitting the floor.

Zelda flipped up the toilet seat and held the eyepiece over the water. "I'll do it," she warned gravely, "I could let it go in and flush it down."

Wolf's pupils seemed to shrink with fear. "Please," he begged. "I need that."

"For what?" Zelda blurted out.

"To look cool."

Zelda gave him a look of exasperation. "That's it?" she near-screamed. "You wear this piece of junk just to look cool?"

Wolf flinched as if slapped. "...yes," he answered meekly, wincing. "And it isn't waterproof."

"Promise me you'll take a bath?"

"NEVER!" he grizzled.

Zelda sighed patiently, as if a mother about to contradict her disobedient child. "Then I have no choice," she breathed calmly, lifting up a pinky finger with agonizing slowness.

"I'm begging you!" Wolf howled, trying to gnaw off the ropes that bound his hands and feet.

Up went the ring finger.

"And so much more to flush down the plumbing," Zelda sighed. "So let's see... after the eyepiece I'll relieve you of your blaster. Then I suppose your earpiece... I mean, they're all for looking cool, right?"

Marth looked as if Christmas had come early.

"No..." Wolf repeated stubbornly.

Up went the middle finger.

Wolf seemed to be having an internal struggle of pride versus instinct: electronics over putrid, glorious filth, or the other way around? He eyed his eyepiece imploringly, trying for a look of puppy cuteness that made him look, if possible, creepier.

Zelda shook her head. "Say goodbye," she said smugly, preparing to let go—

"WAIT!"

The outburst did not come from Wolf. (A/N: We bet you were all thinking it was him though, weren't you? Come on, admit it!) But rather, it was Marth who was pointing at the precariously balanced gadget caught between Zelda's index finger and thumb.

Zelda gave him a long look before asking in a dangerously soft voice, "Yes, Marth?"

"Oh... well, I was just thinking... where do you think the plumbing on the ship empties out? Does it suddenly rain brown over some passing village every time you flush—?"

Wolf unexpectedly added, "That's a good question, actually. We should interrogate Meta Knight about the bowels of this monstrosity later."

Zelda shuddered at the mere thought, looking disgusted. "I'm sure," she pointed out with an exasperated sigh, "that the Halberd does not do such a thing. Now stop trying to distract me."

And the eyepiece slid from her fingers, spinning end-over-end into the—

"OKAY!"

This time it was Wolf who cried out, and not a moment too soon; with quick reflexes Zelda was able to snatch the eyepiece before it hit the surface of the toilet.

Zelda beamed at Wolf, who looked disgusted with himself for relenting. "Excellent," she said busily, snatching back the shampoo bottle from Marth, who was now standing after being shoved off his "throne" so abruptly moments before.

"If I untie you, will you get in the tub?"

"..."

"Wolf?"

Wolf glowered at her. "Do I have to answer that question?" he asked slowly, his pride dropping with every uttered word.

Marth sniggered. "That, or we can do it by force. And by "we" I mean Zelda." He quickly sauntered back onto the toilet and retook his front-row seat, watching the pair expectantly.

Zelda cautiously approached Wolf and bent down on her knees, grabbing the knot of the rope. Without speaking she untied the rope, which went loose and fell from around Wolf. Wolf blinked, not daring to believe he was free.

Animal instincts kicked in, and he bolted past Zelda for the door—

"OH NO YOU DON'T!"

He wasn't quick enough. With a mighty yell Zelda grabbed him by the ankles, and Wolf ungracefully smacked the floor.

"Now," Zelda panted, wrestling him into a full nelson, "we're doing it...my...way."

Wolf discovered five eventful minutes later that "Zelda's way" meant:

Stripping off every electronic device and article of clothing on his person by force until he was shivering in a pair of boxers in the middle of a surgically white bathroom with Marth practically howling with laughter. Wolf barred his teeth angrily and threw a bar of soap at Marth. Needless to say, it missed.

Marth's laughter subsided slightly under Zelda's glare; Zelda was now turning the tub on, so that hot water gushed out of the faucet.

"If you think it looks so fun why don't you join him?" Zelda offered threateningly. Marth sobered up fairly quickly.

Wolf sneezed. "I am not," he growled, "getting in that thing."

Zelda turned around with her arms crossed, surveying him skeptically. "Oh, yes," she drawled. "You have some sort of backup weapon on you to thwart my "evil" plans, I suppose? Oh, wait, you don't: I took them all away. Please don't make me throw you in there...it was bad enough I had to take off everything you had on except those." She made a gesture to his boxers.

Wolf narrowed his eyes, his face flushing slightly. It was impossible to tell wether this was because he was ticked or embarrassed; heck, it could have been both. "'Throw me in'?" he repeated incredulously. A grin curled his face. "Is that a threat or a promise?"

Zelda took a step away from the tub and pointed. "Get in."

Wolf sat down and glared up at her. "No," he shot back, proceeding to scratch his left arm. "I...oww...don't care about the fleas."

Zelda raised a brow. "Doesn't that hurt?"

"My pride hurts more," Wolf answered calmly.

Marth sighed and abruptly folded his newspaper shut. "Wolf," he called over, "I'm telling you this as one man to another: Enjoy it."

Wolf gave a derisive bark of skeptical laughter. "Why would I enjoy being hosed down by some psycho?"

"Because it's a girl. This may actually be the only time in your life one may willingly agree to this tedious task." Marth glanced at Zelda before hiding behind the Neopian Times again.

"Then let me correct you," Zelda snapped. "I did certainly not beg for this job, Marth. You're not even doing anything."

Marth peeked over the top of the newspaper. "I'm giving Wolf morale support. Though this is as funny as hell for me, we guys need to stick together."

"Telling Wolf to "enjoy this" is morale support?"

"Yep."

"Sicko," Zelda sniffed, turning her attention back to Wolf. Wolf was now sitting with his arms and legs folded tightly, glaring up at her as if daring her to come any closer.

"I bite," Wolf pointed out ruefully.

"I know you do," Zelda retorted, raising her left arm slightly. In the brief five-minute time-span it took Zelda to get him into all but boxers he had bit, scratched, and clawed her to shreds. Wolf snorted.

"But," Zelda added reluctantly, glancing at the clock on the wall, "seeing as how it's already been ten minutes we do need to step it up a notch." Like a bird of prey she snatched him by the scruff and threw Wolf into the tub.

Well, he didn't go sailing gracefully into the tub at first. No, no, no. First, Wolf hit the wall, then peeled off it and fell into the foamy depths with a large wave. Water jumped up and sloshed down the side of the tub from the force.

Wolf's head resurfaced a second later. He was completely covered in foam with a bubbly beard to match.

"Look how easy that was!" Zelda said somewhat hysterically over Marth's renewed mirth. She gave a long, drawn-out sigh before dragging a stool next to the tub and taking a dainty seat on it. In one hand she had the bottle of conditioner. Wolf twitched and began to scratch his back in earnest.

"The fleas don't like the water," Wolf whimpered. "It's making them bite even more."

"Of course they don't," Zelda replied patiently, "they know that their agonizing demise is here."

Wolf watched warily as she raised the bottle like a sword. "Prepare to be cleaned," she breathed.

"NO!" Wolf cried, and made a u-turn for the other end of the tub. Marth watched him with a look of utter amusement.

"Try biting him on the ear," he offered shrewdly. "I heard it makes dogs more likely to sit."

Zelda reached forward and grabbed Wolf by the tail; Wolf was thrown backwards slightly, and retaliated by whipping around and trying to claw at her. Try to picture this. Now, we all know that where the beast goes the tail must follow. And Zelda was still holding his tail. Weight and distribution don't work very well here, so Zelda was then thrown into the tub as his tail whipped out behind him.

Marth, who had been reading the FAQ section, looked up in time to see a wave rise up and splash all over the floor, promptly soaking him and the newspaper. Marth scowled.

"Hey, can't you two idiots watch what you're doing—?" He stopped at the sight of the scene. "Oh...my. Bloody. God."

Zelda had literally fallen on top of Wolf in the transaction. As she sat up, drenched thoroughly, Wolf resurfaced again beside her while spitting out mouthfuls of soapy bath water.

Barely keeping a straight face, Marth stood. "Excuse me," he said quickly before skipping out of the room with all intentions to go find his video camera.

Zelda raised a hand to ring water out of her hair, all the while muttering vehement curses under her breath. "Why couldn't you just cooperate?" she hissed the moment the door slammed shut behind Marth.

Wolf beamed, looking much more relaxed now that Zelda shared the same fate. "Oh, well, it's in my nature to always cause chaos and not be helpful. I'm just a little git, aren't I?"

"Yes," Zelda seethed, "you are!"

"Excellent!" Wolf mused, chuckling in amusement as he scooped up a handful of bubbles. "So does this mean I don't have to take a bath?"

A curious look stole over the Hyrullian princess's face. Instead of answering she reached for the bottle of soap on the stool and slathered the pink goo in her left hand. Placing the bottle back down, she tugged at the shower curtains so that they would have both been blocked from view. Wolf's confidence quickly turned into sheer terror as she advanced threateningly. He had the very quick impression of a wet cat that looked ready to commit murder with its eyeballs.

"Hey! What are you doing?"

Zelda pounced.

Enter: Marth

Marth walked back down the hallway, swinging his video camera in his left hand while whistling. (Don't ask how he has one, he just does.) Marth had every intention to videotape Wolf getting his bath now that his only other source of entertainment had been waterlogged. Besides, a wet, pissed of Zelda was okay in his book. YouTube was going to have a riot when he was done.

He skipped down another hallway and found himself outside the bathroom door again. Grinning, he turned the handle and poked his head in. "Hey, you guys, I found my—my—umm..."

"Umm" was a very good word choice. Because Zelda had used the shower curtains to keep bubbles and water from getting all over the floor, Marth could only see Zelda and Wolf's outlines on the other side. That was all he needed to see. It looked wrong on so many levels mainly due to the fact that Zelda had pinned Wolf against the side of the tub and was scrubbing him vigorously, which looked oh so suggestive to Marth's tiny little brain. And not being able to see them didn't mean he couldn't hear every word Wolf was screaming, either:

"STOP IT! Stop scrubbing me there so hard, that hurts!"

"Stay still, you incapable idiot! How else am I supposed to kill every little flea?!"

"You don't need to be so violent! Oww! That was my—"

He slid down into the sea of bubbles. Zelda made a noise between a yell and a groan, reaching into the water and pulling him up again by the fur.

"Do not," she hissed, "make me tie you up. Would that be better?"

Wolf whimpered, but not before giving Zelda a good kick in the chest. The curtains fluttered from the force of the impact as Zelda hit the wall head-first.

"I hope that gave you brain cancer. Next time think before you hurt the innocent!"

Marth didn't need to hear—or see—anything else. His eyes widened innocently as he watched Zelda's outline stand, shake off water, and make a jump at Wolf. He quickly clicked the "on" button and placed the video camera on he sink so that it was facing the tub. Then he made a beeline for the door and ran, hellbent on telling this bit of sensitive information to—

Conference Room

Meta Knight was in the conference room, watching Fox and Falco sweep up some of the glass from the mass explosions all the cups and plates had done during breakfast. He had his rule book spread open and was writing something on a new page, while talking to the two Star Fox troopers.

"—need to be careful, there's glass everywhere; next, I want you two to take the glass and throw it out, then put leftover food in the fridge and take whatever dishes are left and wash them—"

"We know!" Fox cried in exasperation, throwing a mop down on the floor and glaring at Meta Knight. "Why can't you go nag someone else about their chore and leave us alone?"

"Yeah?" Falco added testily. "We're working as fast as we can without cutting ourselves on all this glass." With a grimace he picked up a cup that had been split down the center and tossed it into a trash bag in the corner.

Meta Knight sighed, flipping through the pages of his book in a bored fashion. "I can't exactly make lunch until you two finish up out here and in the kitchen, can I?"

Fox snatched up several bowls and gave Meta Knight a disbelieving look. "Then why not help us clear the table and we can all get done faster? My shoulders are killing me."

"Sorry, Fox. It's not my turn today." He sounded sincerely sorry.

As Fox began to say, "Why you—" a loud yell sounded through the open door. Falco, Meta Knight and Fox paused.

"What was that?" Fox wondered, continuing the stack up bowls.

Falco threw another broken chink of glass into the trash bag and stole a half-eaten pear off the table. "Dunno," he yawned, taking a bite. "Maybe it's Captain Falcon getting eaten by those stupid plants."

"Or Wolf," Fox added absently, his stack of plates now so high in his arms that they wobbled ominously, threatening to crash if one wrong move was made. "I wish I could see him getting bathed—that would make my day considerably."

"Next time," Falco added angrily, raking up another broken glass, "when it's Kirby's day to clear out the dishes and food we should scream like banshees and make all the glass objects break. Let's see how he likes it."

Before Meta Knight could reply the yell came again, sounding closer than before. As Fox prepared to walk out the door a blue-black flash smacked into him. Marth and Fox both fell back into several of the chairs just as the plates and bowls went up from the force of the collision, then came down with ear-splitting crashes all around them. Glass and fragments of what might have been fine china scattered all around them. Fortunately, both of them had raised their hands in time to avoid getting cut by the flying glass. The bad part was that 28 more of the bowls had been broken.

Fox grabbed the back of a turned-over chair for support as he heaved himself up. "Dammit! You dolt," he snapped angrily at Marth. "Look what you made me do! Now that's even more glass I'll be cleaning up later."

Meta Knight quickly hopped off his seat and rushed over to help Marth up. "What's wrong? Why aren't you with Zelda and Wolf?" he demanded anxiously.

Marth winced as he stood up, dusting himself off before responding. "That's just it! I–I mean, I don't...it's..."

"Stop babbling, boy," Meta Knight said impatiently. "Take a deep breath and tell me what's wrong."

Marth inhaled slowly. At last he said, in a much calmer voice, "I...it's...well..." Unable to commune it correctly, he snatched Meta Knight's book and pen and began to scribble furiously. After a few tense moments of silence he shoved the book into Meta Knight's face. Meta Knight's yellow eyes flickered over the words written before dawning comprehension hit him like a speeding train. Slamming the book shut, he tossed it over his shoulder and began to walk toward the door leading into the hallway.

Fox blinked. "Meta Knight?" he asked hesitantly. "Is something, er, wrong?"

Meta Knight didn't answer as he stepped out the open door; before he could leave, however, Marth skipped after him and asked in an excited, curious tone, "Are you going to kill her?"

Meta Knight unsheathed Galaxia before answering seriously, "Only if I have to," and ran out of the conference room. Marth bounded after him with his cape billowing out behind him.

Falco bristled indignantly and made a face. "Fine, don't tell us anything, we'll just be good little servants and clean up this mess!" he exploded.

"Thank you!" Marth's voice echoed distantly.

Fox coughed. "What do you think that was all about?" he wondered, bending over the pick up a chair. "Hey, look, Meta Knight left his book behind!"

Falco paused to scurry next to Fox, who had opened the book to the page Marth had hastily written on. Their curious facial expressions quickly changed to horror as they read the two sentences Marth had left behind.

"Oh...well...that's just... Dude, I can't even think of anything to say." Falco snatched the book and reread it. "It doesn't sound like something Zelda would do, anyway."

Fox snorted skeptically and continued to pick up toppled chairs. "So she's doing what with whom?" he asked nobody in particular.

A tumbleweed rolled past the table.

Following Two Knights...

As Meta Knight and Marth retraced their steps down the hallway they were surprised to find Pikachu, Toon Link and Pit listening outside the door.

"What are you three doing here?" Meta Knight asked as he skidded to a halt.

Pikachu looked up and gestured wildly with his paws. "Pikapi! Pik, pikachu! Cha, pik, pika pikachu!"

Pit shrugged. "I can't understand him, but we all got the gist. Well, I was getting trash from downstairs"— he held up a black trash bag —"when I heard these yells and screams coming from the bathroom. I didn't go in, but soon Pikachu and Toon Link here came along and we all gathered around to listen and..." He shrugged helplessly. "The noise died, and there's water seeping out from under the door."

Indeed, a large puddle was now spilling out onto the carpet. Marth raised a brow. "Huh," he grunted. "That's...weird."

Toon Link stared eagerly at the Star Warrior. "What's going on? I thought Marth here was supposed to be de-fleaing Wolf."

"So did I," Meta Knight mused, raising his sword slightly. "Now can you three get back to work? Toon Link, don't you have air ducts to rid of rats?"

As Pit stalked off in disappointment Toon Link shrugged. "Link said he was going to get the mouse traps and stuff, so I told him I'd wait near here. And Pikachu, Mario and Luigi can't clean this bathroom until Wolf's bath is done, so Pikachu was sent as a scout to see if they were finished yet."

Meta Knight sighed, slouching slightly with exhaustion. "Pikachu—they'll be done in possibly another ten minutes or so, go tell Mario and Luigi to come back then." Pikachu saluted him and raced around the corner with his tail in the air.

Toon Link smirked. "How is Pikachu supposed to convey that in English to the Itallian brothers?"

"Leave!" Meta Knight ordered, and Toon Link walked off sulkily, but not before adding, "meanie," under his breath.

Marth yanked on the doorknob. He turned around to address Meta Knight. "It's locked."

"I know it is," Meta Knight agreed. He raised his word slightly, as if examining it. "If what you said was true then of course the door would be locked."

"Then how do we get in?" Marth asked in a dumbfounded sort of way. "If it only opens from the inside then—HEY!"

He barely sidestepped a second before Meta Knight had thrown himself against the door. Completely unfazed, he quickly recovered and took several steps back as the door came off its hinges and swung forward. Its shadow fell over Marth, who mouthed stupidly before it fell on top of him with a ringing bang.

Meta Knight sighed and walked over the door, regardless of the idiot trapped underneath. There came several muffled squeaks as he crossed into the threshold of the bathroom.

Meta Knight had only taken a step inside when he came to an abrupt halt, as if having walked into a wall. Marth, struggling to get out from underneath, freed himself after a few violent tugs and stood up.

"You know," he snapped, stalking up to Meta Knight, "you could have just—" He stopped.

Together they stared into the bathroom. It was a few seconds before Marth said in a dumbstruck voice, "Wolf—you're white!"

For in the very center of the waterlogged bathroom sat Wolf, completely drenched and still wearing a pair of sodden boxers. His fur was no longer dark gray but a silvery-white color that was almost as blinding as the sun. It was simply cleaner than anyone would have guessed possible. Behind Wolf sat Zelda on the toilet seat with a towel around her hair. She was currently ringing water out of her sleeves when she noticed the intrusion.

"Oh." She blinked at them calmly. "It's so nice of you to...er, "drop" in."

Meta Knight looked at Wolf inquiringly; he, out of the four present, was the only one managing a fruitful attempt at looking calm. "Wolf. Are you okay?"

Wolf twitched in reply. "No I am not okay!" he grizzled, pointing accusingly at Meta Knight. "You let that psycho lady torture me! Now I'll... I'll never be right again." He curled up into a ball, shivering from the cold. Water dripped off his flea-free arms. Marth flinched, first glancing at him sympathetically, then glaring accusingly at the Hyrullian princess.

Meta Knight gave Wolf a don't-you-even-mess-with-me look. "You weren't spreading those stupid fleas around like chicken pox," he snapped impatiently, tapping a foot.

Marth, meanwhile, had skipped over and knelt down beside Wolf, his eyes wide with disbelief. He poked Wolf curiously. "I thought you were a gray wolf?" he inquired.

Wolf let out a tiny wail of misery. "I thought so, too," he sighed, picking at the tiled floor with a claw. "Hey?" He looked up hopefully. "May I go now?"

Before Meta Knight had barely gotten as far as saying, "Ye—" Wolf let out a triumphant howl and knocked Marth out of the way, making a beeline for the door.

"Hey!" Zelda called after him, "you forgot your—clothes..." She shrugged. "Oh, well. The idiot can go make a fool of himself. He's no longer my problem, anyway. Later."

Before she could leave the room, however, Meta Knight made a step sideways and blocked the exit. Zelda scoffed. "I did my chore, Meta Knight, so you don't have free reigns over me anymore. Move it."

Marth made a disbelieving noise. "You expect us to let you go so soon?" he gasped dramatically. "After everything we heard and saw you do?"

"Giving him a bath?" Zelda huffed. "Yes, I do," she answered with very little self-restraint.

Meta Knight sheathed Galaxia and looked around the bathroom. It was soaked. He felt a nerve snap somewhere in the back of his head at the mess, but pushed it off. He could save his lecture for her later. "We have some questions to ask you, Zelda."

Zelda balled her fists so that the imprint carved into the back of her hand of the TriForce glowed briefly. "What is this, Law and Order?" she groaned, half-heartedly massaging her aching temples. "Fine, you want an inquiry? Very well, detectives." She took a deep breath and recited at top speed: "Yes, Marth didn't help me at all. No, I did not hurt Marth. Yes, I did have to get violent with that son-of-gun, Wolf. Yes, Wolf bit me. No, I am not cleaning this mess up—that's the plumber boys' and Pikachu's job. Now, if you excuse me, I have to go take a blood test and find out if Wolf has rabies!"

Both Meta Knight and Marth flinched as she kicked over the stool and shoved them out of her way, heading for the empty door frame. "And fix this bloody thing," she added angrily over her shoulder.

Marth, not wanting his entertainment to walk out the door (yet another bad pun), cupped his hands to his mouth and yelled, "Fleeing the scene of the crime, eh, witch?"

The Hyrullian princess paused in her leave. "I am not a witch!" Zelda hissed, spinning on her heels and sending water droplets everywhere. "I was doing my job."

Marth's self-restraint vanished. "Was your job having fun?" he sneered, hands on his hips.

Zelda's anger evaporated, replaced with bafflement. "Huh?" was all she could manage. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Marth sighed and snatched the video camera out of Meta Knight's hands. ("Hey!") With a great air of graveness he hit the rewind button and passed it to her, where for the next five minutes Zelda watched the screen blankly.

When the screen went black from the end of the film she thrust it back into Meta Knight's hands, looking disgusted. "That's sick," she hissed. "I can't believe you filmed that."

"Say what you want, Princess," Marth crowed smugly, "but the camera does not lie!"

"No, it doesn't lie," Zelda growled. "It just gets away with giving viewers the wrong impression. And you!" she added unexpectedly, giving Meta Knight a reproving look. "For believing him!"

Meta Knight shrugged unflinchingly. "I took Marth's word, and the voiced concerns of three others who claimed they heard "noises" and "screaming" coming from inside."

Zelda snorted. "Honestly," she near-cried in exasperation. "I was giving him a freaking bath, not—well..." An awkward pause, then: "Special Victims Unit won't be making visits anytime soon, I can assure you of that."

"So you say," scoffed Marth, who was lapping up her frustration happily and enjoying every ounce of chaos he was capable of rendering. "But if I interview Wolf, will I get the same reply?"

Zelda actually gave a hellbent roar that made both knights take quick steps back. "Meta Knight!" she screamed, jabbing Meta Knight in the chest. "You actually took his word over mine? Who's more trustworthy here?"

"W-well," Meta Knight stammered, his cold eyes looking uncertain, "Wolf looked traumatized—"

"Of course he did!" Zelda snarled. "This is the first bath he's had in months, you idiot! Months! Tell me that you don't take that stupid video seriously?"

"I haven't seen it yet, so I'm undecided!" Meta Knight defended himself (finally).

"Undecided?" Zelda looked ready to strangle him. "Looks can be misleading. Take Marth, for example. Go ahead, ask him."

Meta Knight gritted his teeth. "Fine," he muttered vehemently, whisking around. "Marth, have you—?"

But his sentence died, along with his certainty that there had been anything worth investigating. Marth's unusual flamboyant seriousness had gone with the wind, so to speak, for the Lowell knight was now gazing at his own reflection in the mirror.

"Oh, mirror, mirror, on the ship," he crooned, "who is the most divine, fine, and so-totally hip?"

"Not you by a long shot," Zelda sneered, giving Meta Knight a cool look. "Well, if my presence is no longer needed, I am going to go change out of these soaked robes that Wolf had the courtesy of ruining for me. Maybe Peach will kindly wash them. Good day." She gave Meta Knight a sanctimonious little nod and prepared to leave, but not before adding over her shoulder; "Do I still hold guilt in your eyes?"

Meta Knight shrank under her malevolent gaze. "Well... I still want to look at this video before I make my say and—"

Zelda tossed her head and gave him a scorching glare. "Perverted old knight," she hissed, and walked out of the bathroom, stomping over the broken door in the process.

Perhaps two minutes of silence followed this punctuated, extremely long pause before Meta Knight spun around and gave Marth a good old kick in the shins.

Down The Hall-A-Ways (Bedroom Section of the Ship)

As Popo and Nana tiptoed down the hallway that housed their rooms they heard a long, drawn-out cry of pain come from somewhere nearbye.

Popo glanced anxiously at his sister. "Do you suppose that we should investigate?" he offered hopefully, holding up his mallet.

Nana shook her head in reply. "We have to get on with our chore. C'mon, who's room are we doing first?"

"Links'," Nana decided, making a right and approaching the door that had already taken on their personality: a large KEEP OUT sign had been nailed, hammered and glue-gunned in the very center of it. Below it, written in marker was: "Abandon all hope, ye who enter."

"Not very welcoming, is it?" scoffed Popo, tugging at the doorknob. It slid open with an ominous creeeak that made the hairs along the back of their arms stand on end.

"Shall we?"

"Let's," Popo gulped, and he stepped inside.

He realized at a first glance that the Links' sign hadn't been rudeness, but blatant truth. Clothes, food, torn pages from books and bed sheets littered the ground from the morning's bangs and miniature explosions. Popo and Nana cupped their hands over their mouths in identical movements.

"Holy crap... They've only slept in here for one night and it's a pigsty." Popo swore, jaw-dropping. "It looks like something out of a Stephen King novel."

Nana made a retching noise and pinched the bridge of her nose. "What died in here?" she mused, gingerly nudging an empty Pepsi bottle with her foot.

Popo sighed. "Quick, evasive precautions!" Both of them reached into their wooly pink/blue coats and took out clothes-pins, attaching them to their noses. Both breathed relieved sighs.

"At least I can breathe again," Popo snorted in a nerdy, odd sort of sound, the clothespin altering his voice.

Nana nodded. "Tread carefully," she warned, gently gripping a green tunic and pulling on it. Underneath was an infestation of bugs.

Bugs. BUGS. BUGS. INSECTS!

"Eww!" she squealed, taking out her hammer and whamming it down on the infestation. "I. Hate. Bugs!"

Popo dodged out of the way and ducked in the nick of time as she wildly swerved her hammer. It thudded, missing every little insect in its wake and instead banged down on a lump underneath a pair of discarded pants. From underneath came the sound of something splintering.

"What did you break?" Popo panicked, edging next to his sister.

Nana bristled. "I didn't do anything!" she squeaked in a nervous, high voice. The Ice Climber shivered. "Bugs..."

"I know, I know," Popo soothed. "I get it. Come on, it can't be that bad..." He kicked over the white pants to see underneath Toon Link's WindWaker snapped clean in half. A spring was coming out of one end.

"Shoot. You broke a wind," Popo gasped, scooping up the demolished instrument. "I think we can fix it up with duct tape."

"Toon Link isn't gonna be happy, though," Nana added ruefully. "Do you think we can get away with blaming it on Captain Falcon?"

Popo raised a hand to his chin in contemplative thought before declaring chirpily, "Yep!" and sticking it inside a pocket.

Nana was still scooping up clothes off the floor and tossing them in a heap beside the open door. "Let's chuck all the clothes there and dump it down the chute."

"Got it," Popo grumbled, kneeling beside the bunk beds to reach underneath for a sock. He paused, however, after snatching it up to see that a fairly creepy green glow was coming from underneath.

"Nana?"

"Yeah?" his sister answered, padding across the room to join him. "What are you looking at?"

"I think they built a nightlight under their beds," Popo replied nervously, budging over a few feet to make room. The other twin kneeled down beside him and gasped at the sight of a piece of pepperoni pizza with hairy mold growing on the crust. It seemed to be making some sort of gurgling sound and was emanating a sticky, faintly sinister light.

"Woah..." they both whispered softly. Popo stuck out his hand, preparing to grab at it, when Nana yanked him from out under the bed and slapped his wrist.

"Ouch!" Popo recoiled and cradled his right arm. "What did you do that for?"

"Think," Nana begged in exasperation. "It's a wonder that we're related, when only one of us got the brains."

Popo made a face. "So?"

"So, it might be poisonous, or...or it'll bite your hand off! We'll all start calling you 'Stubby' because that was all that was left of your fingers! Stubs!"

Popo scowled. "Have it your way," he sighed, getting up. "Here." He gestured nervously to the pile of dirty clothes that they had harvested, mainly tunics and duplicates of their pointy green hats. "Let's kick it out of here. I don't want to touch it and unearth something like radioactive pudding."

Nana squeaked in agreement, and together they muscled the pile out the door and shoved it halfway down the hall with kicks and swipes from their mallets.

"Down she goes!" Popo cried jubilantly, snatching up the laundry and tossing it down the laundry chute. They watched it succumb down the winding vents and vanish, the last thuds echoing softly.

"Who next?" Popo asked.

Nana paused to think before saying, "Let's do Zelda and Peach's room next. I'm not taking another risk like that again."

They both made collective shudders and hopped back along their own trail for the room across from Links'. Opening the door, they found it spotless and neat. Not a single piece of clothing littered the floor, the beds were made and every thing was packed away into its designated spot. It was perfect. Too perfect. The purity was blinding.

"My eyes are bleeding!" Nana screamed. "Shield your eyes!" And she slammed the door shut.

Both of them slid to the ground with their backs against the wall, puffing, slightly out of breath at the glorious sight of neatness.

"I've never seen anything so, well, clean," Popo panted. "I don't think that we need to go in there and straighten up, make the beds and stuff... ya know?"

"I know," Nana agreed heartily. "Let's...let's do Snake and Yoshi's room next."

And so both siblings stood and stumbled across the hallway, still slightly dazed by the dramatic change from "waste dump" to "a little slice of heaven". Nana hesitated when they reached the rather normal-looking door.

"Should we knock?" Nana wondered. "Or be expecting something? This is Snake's room, after all."

"Like what?" Popo asked disbelievingly, grabbing the knob and turning it. "Paranoia doesn't necessarily mean the guy's gonna rig his bedroom with booby—TRAPS!"

He grabbed his sister by the hood and yanked her forward into a dive, as arrows whistled over their heads. They both thudded ungracefully onto the plush red carpet chin-first. As both panted, letting out relieved sighs, an odd clanking noise made Nana look up. Metallic needles were blooming out of the ceiling and getting closer—why were they getting closer?—they were going down...

Toward them.

"Roll, you great lump, move and ROLL!"

"Roll where?" asked a panic-stricken and confused Popo.

Nana head butted him right and they twisted out of the needle's way just as if sank into the floor. They weren't out of the oven yet. Below them the floor had begun to slide open.

"Jump!" both shouted at the same time, and the Ice Climbers scrabbled madly to their feet and made a leap over the pit of boiling lava. The moment that obstacle was cleared flamethrowers spouted out of the wall directly on their right side...

"Move back!" Nana yelped and both sprang out of the flame's way as it seared across the width of the room.

As they made a mad dash to the far left side of the room an odd clicking noise began to sputter from the opposing wall. Beneath the floor a chainsaw had seemingly appeared out of nowhere and was now eating through the metal floor in their direction—

"Holy shi—"

"I'm going to KILL Snake."

Both statements were drowned out by the growl of the motor and, instead of wasting time on empty swears and death threats they made a zigzag backwards— right into the jaws of another saw. The situation had a horrible familiarity to Pacman. Both sprang forward as the blades flew at them and missed. Above their heads purple gas clouds had begun to smog the space around them.

"Hold—your—breath," Nana wheezed, throwing the clothespin over her nose again. Popo puffed out his cheeks, his face slowly growing redder the longer they stayed in the poisonous vapors.

It vanished. Both let out long breaths of relief and began to suck in air when Nana realized something odd. "Is the floor rising?"

Both of them had collapsed onto what were really platforms now going slowly upwards toward the ceiling. They were each standing on something with blue and red arrows.

Popo cuffed the edge of the mat. "Are these DDR—?"

A loud, booming, obnoxiously cheerful spokes oice came out of nowhere and from the ceiling unfolded a wide-screen high definition TV.

"ARE YOU READY?" the voice boomed.

Popo stood up and looked around. "Who said that?" he demanded.

Nana quickly hopped to her feet and pointed at the TV screen. "Look!"

It had flickered on to a pink and blue heart-shaped background, in the top corners a bar of some sort, below, in the bottom left-hand corner a score meter with nothing but zeroes.

"Please...don't tell me..." Popo whispered, his eyes widening with terror.

"ARE YOU READY TO DIE?" the announcer voice screamed in that voice that really makes you want to strangle somebody.

"NO!" cried the brother and sister, hugging each other.

The song started. Arrows were now racing up the screen like speeding bullets:

Down. Double right-left. Down. Double right-left. Down. Double right-left. Up, left, up chaos step. Double right-left. Double down-right. Double up-down, HOLD the ketchup (we mean up arrow) and a left...

Love, love, love, love,
La-la-la love shineeee! Yeah-yeah-yeah—
Yeah!
"Sun Shine!"
Hare-watatta, "Blue Sky"
HIKARI ryoute ni A-TSU-KU mabushii koi no yokan!
"Love Beat!"
Kono kimochi mo "Heat Up!"
HIKARI abite
Soshite ANATA no moto e.

"What—is—this—torture?" Popo wailed, crossing his legs and missing the arrows. His meter was dropping fast. Nana, on the other hand, was barely keeping herself and her brother alive altogether.

"'Love Love Shine'! It's—DDR—challenge mode!" groaned Nana shrilly, nearly slipping on her platform.

A minute had passed now... forty seconds of missing arrows and music left...

"Why—do—people—bother—making—impossible—games?!" Popo panted huskily, sweat clotting on his forehead and trickling down his face.

Before Nana could snap a reply on both sides of the aerial TV gaps in the ceiling opened up, emitting what looked like sinister-looking lasers. Time slowed and froze to something out of the Matrix as they watched both lasers begin to charge—slowly—and the gauges lit. Out came scarlet laser beams, hitting the left arrows their feet had been on a second before.

"What is this? DDR death dancing?" Popo asked incredulously, panting for breath.

La la lalala la,
La la lalala la,
La la lalala la,
La la la la,
La love you, love you, love you, love you love sunshine!

"We have to AVOID those things AND DANCE?!" Nana screamed, stamping several times in a row on the right arrow, then cross-jumping in time with her brother. The meter dropped dangerously low. The lasers fired again so that they hit the metal DDR pads just as they jumped in time to the song.

"Nana—what happens if...if we get a 'game over'?"

"I don't," Nana cried in exhaustion, ducking a laser beam, "even want to think about it! Just dance, DANCE FOR YOUR LIFE!"

Laser, hit an arrow, jump, avoid getting killed by a laser if they made a miss...

Yep. Today was going great so far.

Setsunaku Amazuppai
Koi no hajimari wa
Mahou no PAWAA de HIKARI hanatsu no!
Kamisama—Mou—Chotto dake
Mimamotte kudasai.
HarisaKESOU na OMOI tsutaeru kara
Todoke! Motto mabushii LOVE SHINE!
..Shine...shine... shine-shine-shine...

As the song drew to a close and the laser's blast grew fainter both siblings slowed their dancing, their legs aching. They had kept themselves from at least getting below zero on the gauge. Their score: -300. Asking how they got a negative each is like asking how Chuck Norris can turn a McDonald's into a KFc by roundhouse-kicking it.

Then, as a miracle to both, the lasers went back into the ceiling, the platforms abruptly sank back into the floor and knocked the Ice Climbers off their feet, the weapons that had revealed themselves in the room vanished, and the TV screen was now displaying a score.

"OHH! BETTER LUCK NEXT TIME!" the announcer guy yelled.

Both glanced up, briefly catching a glimpse of their score (E) before the TV flipped over and vanished back into the ceiling. For a few dumbfounded moments of laborious breathing brotherand sister slumped side-by-side, angry, confused, out-of-breath and extremely owned.

"And for all that's worth," Nana ranted, "we didn't even have to come in here to clean up! It's not even dirty."

"I. Am. Officially. Lame. Look at us, failing that song!" Popo sighed, unbothered by the fact they had nearly been killed. "And we are Brawl characters, for God's sake! I think every ounce of pride was just sapped out of me and gone with the freaking wind."

Nana turned around, about to reply, when the bedroom door swung open again.

Both instinctively threw themselves forward against the beds as Yoshi entered his room, coffee-filled mug in his left hand, an open book in his right.

"LOOK OUT!" they screamed in unison, but it was too late.

Arrows had sprang forward at Yoshi, but to their amazement he crouched as if on cue, ducking the flying arrows, and side-stepping right many seconds before the needles came down from the ceiling. What was amazing was that he was still reading his book. The floor next began to move apart Yoshi's feet, but the tiny green dinosaur had already army-rolled forward—not even spilling a drop from his coffee—

The flamethrowers began to spew fire at him, but Yoshi had outsmarted the beast by running the width of the room. Yoshi got out of fire's reach and made a spectacular jump to avoid both chainsaws as they advanced on either side, the result being that both smashed together and retreated. Coming down, the ceiling opened up above Yoshi's head and instead emitted a cloud of purple gas. Still reading his book, Yoshi took a deep breath and waited patiently for the poison smog the clear.

Popo and Nana felt their jaws unravel an inch each time he cleared an obstacle without even breaking a sweat. Their jaws' stretching capacity was tested as they watched the raised platform lift Yoshi up, preparing him for the same minute-and-forty-second torture.

DDR music blared to "Love Love Shine". Lasers shot at his feet a minute into the song. Yoshi was not only drinking his coffee and reading his stupid book, but still managing to land perfectly on every arrow and not get singed (unlike the two unfortunate Ice Climbers).

His letter score read AAA as the platform sank back into the floor (smoking), the TV vanished and the lasers went back to their dormant state. It was when Yoshi finally looked up from his book and drained the rest of his drink did he noticed Popo and Nana lying rather pathetically at his feet.

"Oh," he mused, blinking at them cheerfully. "Hi! What are you guys doing here?"

Nana and Popo both opened their mouths at once and began to talk at the same time in gobbled voices:

"—that was incredible, how did you—?"

"—what was Snake thinking, making that deathtrap?"

"—cleaning the rooms and taking out laundry—"

"—Dude, that was freaking awesome!"

"—why aren't you flying this piece of—?"

"—Dude, that was freaking awesome!"

Both faded off breathlessly into silence, staring imploringly at Yoshi. Yoshi looked rather taken aback by their sudden spazzness and bombarded questions. He shrugged almost indifferently.

"Well," Yoshi paused to think. "Snake had this place rigged last night when we first settled in. We dinosaurs are adapters, so I learned to jump like a maniac after an unfortunate incident returning from the bathroom last night and... yeah. Thanks." He grinned.

"Why aren't you flying the ship?" Nana demanded anxiously, grudgingly hauling herself onto her sore feet.

"Oh? That?" Yoshi grinned. "Meta Knight told us to wait until Snake and Sonic had finished wiping down the windows, before we actually start crashi—I mean, flying the Halberd!" He sweat-dropped. "And I'm extremely lazy, so the longer the wait the merrier I am. Anyway," he went on, grabbing Popo by the arm and hauling him onto his feet, "the traps won't go off unless you enter the room, so you guys can just head on off to somebody else's. This place is, er, fine enough already."

Both Ice Climbers were relieved to hear this. With hasty, heartfelt good-byes they fled the room and ran out into the hallway, slamming the door behind them.

"Never again," Popo vowed, looking around. "Where to next?"

And so the process of getting the clothes and getting out of the rooms with them went fairly smoothly as they worked down the hall. The only failed attempt and exception to this rule was Ash and Lucas's room. When they tried to enter the door wouldn't budge, even thought it was unlocked. After a few barrel-rams the door had swung open onto a mountain of dirty laundry at least five feet high. Needles to say, they had blazed trails in their attempts to get outside again.

Two rooms remained: Meta Knight's and Wolf's/Pikachu's. They hesitated outside their "landlord's" door (well, "dictator," in the words of Toon Link) and eyed it as if it might suddenly come to life and eat them.

Popo fumbled with the large key ring until he was gripping an old-fashioned key, his hands trembling slightly.

"P-Popo," stammered Nana, "I don't think when Meta Knight said to clean up all the bedrooms he was including his too."

"Nonsense!" Popo beamed. "Besides, we earned this privilege. We have the key. We have the power. Oh, come on," he added in a fake-hurt voice at his sister's incredulous stare. "Don't you want to see the man behind the cape? This is our chance, our time to shine! This finding could be even greater than Leal Largebomb's landing on the moon."

"It's 'Neil Armstrong'," Nana corrected him.

"Yeah, yeah, like it matters," Popo scoffed, and without hesitation he jammed the key in the lock, jiggled the knob and swung the door open with an ominous creeeak.

They both peered around the door frame. The room was unsurprisingly dark. Voldemort and/or Darth would have been proud to call this place home. At the back of the room was a large master bed, covered in black and dark-blue sheets, neat, tidy, and already folded. Nothing littered the oddly perfect floor. The room seemed to have an eternal kind of gloom to it, from its perfect dark elm-wood vanity, crowded with mysterious objects, to the bookshelf lined with novels and boxes. In the top left-hand corner was a closet and—

"HE HAS HIS OWN BATHROOM?!" Popo near-screeched angrily, pointing at the door. "And he gets to use his own and make us all share, what, like one bathroom?"

"There are three other bathrooms on this ship and you know that," Nana snapped quietly. "And lower your voice. We shouldn't even be in here..."

"Scared?" Popo teased. "HEY—look at that!" His eyes gleamed with excitement as he blazed a trail for the dresser. "Come check these out!"

Nana bit back a groan. But curiosity got the better of her judgement, and she willingly crossed the carpeted, dark-purple floor and joined him in front of a large mirror.

"What is this?" Popo wondered. He was poking an ancient-looking crystal ball. "There's a note on it."

He bent over and scooped up a sticky note that was covered by a thin layer of dust. Clearing his throat, he read:

"To: Meta Knight

From: Mother"

"He has a MOM?" Nana stated disbelievingly, looking as if the note had tricked her into ever believing such an unbelievable thing.

Popo shrugged. "I guess so. Hey, he had to come from somebody. I feel bad for the chicken that laid his egg—it must of been as tough as shi—"

"Popo!"

"What? Don't I get to use the First Amendment?"

Nana whopped him on the hood, and it fell down over his face.

"I'm blind!"

"Lift it up, you idiot," Nana sighed as she watched him unstick his blue hood. She made a small circle and headed instead for the bookshelf.

"Steven King?" she mused, as Popo stumbled over and he, too, snatched up a book. Nana then continued to add on, "Kay Hooper? R.L. Stine? Stephenie Meyer? Meta Knight must enjoy dark, perverted and creepy humor."

"Now we know where he went wrong in his childhood," Popo joked, tossing books from the shelves over his shoulder as he lifted them off their rows. Pages flew everywhere. "He screwed it up by joining the Galaxy Soldier Army and reading too many horror novels. And then he invited us into his life. Huh. What an interesting book. Check it out, sis!"

He had paused in his ransacking to hold an ancient-looking tomb up to the (very much lacking) light. It had a brown, leather-bound cover like moleskin and was written in some strange language with strokes from bloodred ink. The spine was worn and crinkled.

Seijin Majikku

"Can you translate whatever the runes say?" Popo asked.

"Do I look like a linguist to you?" Nana snapped impatiently, flipping through pages. "I have no idea what the language is, but there are some pretty graphic illustrations in here—ugh." She slammed the book shut. "Forget that I said it."

"Hey, wait!" Popo snatched it out of her hands and threw open the cover page. "There's something written in purple here..."

Blowing off dust, he peered intently at the hand-writing which read in a familiar-looking, tidy scrawl:

"Sage Magic For Dummies"

"So that's what the title says," Popo sniggered. His eyes practically glowing with excitement, he turned through the pages eagerly. "Wanna try some spells in here?"

"There's no such thing," Nana pointed out impatiently, crossing her arms.

Popo shrugged. "Suit yourself. Hey, I'd try cracking that logic at Zelda or Ganon. Non-believer..." He snorted skeptically. "They use magic all the time."

Nana rolled her eyes in the darkness.

"Waitwaitwait—look!" Popo was pointing eagerly at a page with runes written at the top. Below it was a footnote written in the same purple ink they related with Meta Knight.

"A disappearing spell?" he echoed, whistling. "There's an incantation and everything! It even says how to make it work..." Putting on his best impression of Meta Knight's voice, he read, "Step one: Select an object to vanish. Step two: Read incantation aloud, and tap said object twice, before concluding with final line. The spell's power is doubled if more than one voice speaks it."

Popo stared eagerly at his sister. "Hey, did you hear that? The power is doubled, and it's perfect, we're TWINS!"

"Brother and sister, mind you," Nana argued. "Anyway, I'm pretty sure that I'm adopted. Or you are, anyway."

"Then why do we look alike?"

"It's a coincidence," Nana retorted importantly, grinning at him slyly. "I'm far too intelligent and beautiful to be related to you."

"Aren't you just a friendly little thing?" Popo joked, shoving the book into her face again. "Please? Please, please, please. Please!"

"No. No, no, and no again!" hissed Nana loftily. "We shouldn't even be in here in the first place."

Popo shook his head gravely, as if mortally offended. He crossed his arms sulkily and gave her a rebellious stare. "Fine," he grumbled, holding the spell up to his eye, trying to read what Meta Knight had written in the footnotes, "I'll do it myself. ... Okay, here it is."

Clearing his throat, he recited in a sing-song voice, "To make an object disappear, tap it twice"— he glanced around quickly and decided on the crystal ball; tapping it twice, Popo carried on with —"and say, 'Oh, dear!'"

Before either could blink, the crystal ball twinkled and, crack, vanished. Both stared incredulously at the spot where centuries worth of dust had collected on the crystal ball. It had simply poofed into nonbeing, gone forevermore. Nana twitched slightly. Popo shifted away, feeling a rant coming on.

"Before you say anything," cried the blue-coated Ice Climber, "I have one thing to say: This was all your fault."

"MY FAULT?!" Nana shrieked, rounding on him and clobbering him over the head with her mallet (A/N: Midget on rampage!). "How is it my fault? You said the stupid spell!"

"You goaded me into it," Popo lashed back. "You should have been more responsible and stopped me at all costs!"

"Oh, no," she whispered in a dangerously soft voice. "I am taking no part in this."

"Maybe Meta Knight will never notice?" Popo suggested meekly, rubbing the back of his head timidly where a bruise was now swelling.

Nana gave a derisive bark of laughter. "Oh, I don't know," she crowed. "His mother gave him that"— Popo sniggered —"so, yeah, he'll tend to notice that a family heirloom vanished off the face of the Earth."

Popo broke the stern silence with the most random question in the world: "Does this vanity mirror make me look fat?"

"What?" Nana looked as if she had been slapped across the face, the way she stood flabbergasted at him.

"The wardrobe that the ball was on has a huge mirror. Turn around and look."

Reluctantly, Nana spun around and stared back at her own reflection. Cropped at the edge of the dusty drawer top was a huge, dark silver-framed mirror.

Popo stuck his tongue out. He grinned. "Who would have thought that the dictator primps every morning?"

Nana sighed. "You don't know that. That sounds more like something Peach or Marth would do."

"Hey, look!" Popo used one had to pull at his lip, the other to peel back his eyelid. "Don' I 'ook funneh?" he slurred.

Nana cuffed him over the head. "You look ridiculous."

Popo frowned at her. "You're no fun anymore," he mumbled as he dropped the face. He gave her a hearty nudge. "Please?"

Nana went cross-eyed. "Like this?" she cheered, swaying slightly. "Woah, there's two of everything..."

"Really? Let me see!" Popo took several dizzy steps toward his sister. "I can't see straight—"

WHOMP.

Both smacked into each other and stumbled back onto the floor with loud thumps. Little mallets circled around their heads like stars. Shaking them off, they struggled into sitting positions and roared with laughter.

"You look so stupid," she teased, brushing off dirt and dust motes from her coat. She offered him her hand and both stood up slowly, shaking their heads like wet dogs. Turning around to face the mirror, both stared at the three reflections printed there.

Meta Knight stood directly behind them.

Like sirens both let out high-pitched girlish screams and jumped around to face Meta Knight. The Star Warrior was glaring at them.

"I suppose that cleaning involves making yourselves look like idiots and destroying my room?" He gestured to the books scattered on the floor that Popo had carelessly ripped off the shelf. In his other hand was a video camera.

"Uh," Nana stuttered, "well, that was all Popo's fault. Besides, you said to clean the rooms, and there was nothing to clean..."

"So we made it dirty to have something to do!" Popo interjected with a thumbs-up.

Meta Knight glared. "I said everybody's but mind," he corrected them. "Now, may I show you the door?"

"But we can see it fine," Popo protested in bemusement, tilting his head. "What's so special about the door anyway—?"

Faster than you could say "What the—?" Meta Knight roughly seized them by the ruffs of their coats and tossed them out of the room, slamming the door behind them.

Both flailed their arms madly as they smacked into the wall like bullets. As they peeled off, the twins left behind them Popo- and Nana-sized indents in the wall.

Nana sat up gruffly and rubbed her sore forehead. "I'm starting to wonder if living here means signing myself up for casualties and violence."

Popo nodded in agreement, gritting his teeth slightly as he sat up. "What a hypocrite," he muttered.

"I heard that!" Meta Knight called from the other side of the door.

"Bet that you can't hear this," hissed Nana, making a rude hand gesture at the door.

"I saw that, too!"

Gulping, the Ice Climbers backed away nervously.

Popo swapped a glance with Nana. "Perhaps we should just finish up with the last room. I'll go get the clothes, and you dump them down the chute."

"Agreed."

Like a football player, Nana took a stance at the laundry shoot in the hallway. Popo disappeared into Pikachu and Wolf's room, returning a moment later with a handful of clothes—all Wolf's—and chucked them at his sister.

"Think fast!"

As Popo turned around and marched back into the room without a backwards glance, Nana attempted to catch the speeding laundry. It hit her full-speed in the face, and under the impact Nana thus tumbled down the chute with the laundry.

Popo came out a moment later with another armful of laundry. "Hey," he called, "here's the second batch—... uhh, Nana?"

His sister wasn't at the laundry chute. Popo looked around worriedly. "Nana? Hey, Nana! Where are you? Where'd ya go? Nana? NANA!"

Laundry Room

Nana's eyes watered as she accelerated down the diagonal slope of the chute. Down, down, down—whoosh—she was tumbling into the bowels of the Halberd. It was thanks to her size that she could fall down without brushing the sides and getting skid marks, or otherwise become wedged in by the cramped space.

Below her light seemed to suddenly glow more fiercely. Was she nearing the end of the fall? Eyes closed tight, Nana waited for the impact.

WHOMP.

For a moment she was in a free fall, plummeting out of the chute; Nana barely had enough time to see that she would have a soft landing, the clothes piled below her, when time began to crucially unfreeze and Nana was buried by the suppressing weight of shirts, pants, underwear and awful-smelling socks.

The dirty laundry cushioned her fall. Nana poked her head up, gasping, when a noxious, pungent odor wreathed around her. The toxic stench of stained garments was so overwhelming that Nana promptly went out-cold, buried beneath the hoard of clothes and invisible from anyone's range of sight.

Including Peach's and Kirby's.

Both pink Brawl characters had had their backs turned just as Nana dropped into their midst, now hidden beneath the pile of dirty clothes. Peach un-arched her back and stretched, bending over once more to scoop up a second handful of clothes and shovel it into the washer.

The room she and Kirby were in looked like a chink of somebody's basement: it was pale gray-blue, lined with shelves of clothes detergent and the sort of crap you'd find in the attic of an old couple. A door led out onto the staircase that led both up and down—to the sub levels of the basement where the Kongs were supposed to be cleaning the furnace, and back upstairs onto the first floor of the Halberd. The Mushroom princess hated all the damn number of stairs.

To Peach it was prison. To Kirby—well, he just didn't care.

The Pink Star Warrior was sticking his tongue in a power outlet and miraculously enough not getting electrified. Peach shoveled another heap of filthy clothes into the open washing machine before standing up, sighing.

"It reeks down here," she complained, scrunching up her face at the powerful smell. "I don't know if you could smell it or not, as you don't have a nose—DON'T DO THAT!"

Peach made a massive grab and hauled Kirby away from the outlet as the pink puffball flailed his arms.

"Poyo!" Kirby snapped, crossing his arms and glaring up at Peach sulkily.

Peach returned the look. "You're lucky that mouth of yours was meant for sucking things up, or any longer and we would have been in real trouble."

Kirby still pouted.

"I know you're bored and as miserable as I am," Peach sighed, "or maybe you're not, I can't tell. Just please don't put anything in your mouth—oh, wait, that would be impossible for you. Let me rephrase that: Don't put anything in your mouth that looks dangerous."

Kirby nodded enthusiastically.

"Now," Peach mused, taking up another armful, "I've decided that when the rinse cycle ends we can put you to work. You can help blow dry the wet clothes—the dryer down here isn't working, so until it's repaired you can just blow on everything, and it'll go quick and smooth—"

Kirby wasn't listening to a single word she was yapping. Instead, his curious eyes were drawn to the glass door of the washer. Like at a Laundromat, the doors were see-through, so you could watch the clothes spin around in a circle. What Peach didn't see (as she had her back turned to face him), but he saw, was that an unconscious Nana laying near the front of the laundry.

Inside the washer.

Kirby gulped.

"—and the plumbing backed up really badly, so water was oozing all over the castle. The Toads were all screaming and drowning in two-inch deep puddles. I honestly don't know how that happened, but then Toadsworth said, 'Mario's a plumber! Ask him to fix it, for the sake of clothes!' I had to quite agree, as Toadsworth wearing nothing but a trash can is very scary. And then Mario says—"

"Kirby!" interrupted Kirby, jumping up and down and pointing at the washer. "Kirby; poyo poy!"

Peach made a face as she cranked a nob on the washer labeled "Freezing-My-Ass-Off Cold". "It's not very nice to interrupt people, Kirby," she chided him, oblivious to what he was pointing at.

While we're at it, we may as well describe the washer's many bizarre settings: One such was the water amount used in a load, which the Mushroom princess set to "Lots and Lots." The other setting she selected was time, which was for "Two Hours." (A/N: Honestly, who sets it for two hours? Peach isn't eco-friendly.)

Kirby cocked his head to one side, wondering how stupid and fluff-headed she really was. Okay, so she got a lot of crap from jealous Mario-fangirls and Peach-haters and feminists who disliked her getting constantly kidnapped, but honestly. Was she only tossed in Brawl just to kick the crap out of every bad guy ever spawned? Kirby didn't like thinking. It made his head hurt. But Nana didn't look very happy as she began to wake up the very second Peach, unaware, hit the "Start" button.

Water gushed out from the inside and surged around the Ice Climber. In less than a second she was spinning around violently, pounding every other second on the glass door mutely and staring imploringly at Kirby.

Peach hadn't looked down yet.

"—Bowser kept pointing and laughing at us. He just had to plan his takeover the moment our beloved castle was in crisis. Actually, he was laughing so hard because our home was a goldfish bowl that it was relatively easy to attack him—yes? What is it, Kirby?"

Kirby, being several heads shorter that Peach, had to tug on the end of her gown to get her attention.

"Kirby! Poyo, poyo, poy! Kirby!" Kirby cried in whatever-the-hell language he spoke. Hey, we don't know, do we?

Peach raised a brow. "What's wrong?" she asked, kneeling down beside him. "Are you hungry?"

Kirby gave her a rather severe, unusually serious look. Without answering he grabbed her by the chin and swung her face around to so that she was able to look into the washer.

"Hey, what are you doi—? Oh."

Peach and Kirby were both now staring at Nana, who had given up on banging on the glass door and was spinning around the water current with the clothes. A wet bra smacked her in the head, along with several t-shirts.

"OH, SHIT!"

(A/N: Hey, look! Kirby spoke his first words! Hah, we're only kidding, that was Peach who said it for both of them.)

With lightning-fast reflexes Peach ran forward and tugged open the door. Water, clothes and Nana gushed out over the floor in one giant wave. As Peach scooped Nana up Kirby sucked air into his mouth, inflating his cheeks—

"No, Kirby! You can blow dry her later!"

Kirby's cheeks deflated. The Star Warrior dashed madly after Peach as she ran out of the room and up the stairs, clutching Nana under her arm like a football.