Here we are again. This chapter was originally part of "Alert", but I shortened it because it was a bit too long for my taste. Enjoy.

Disclaimer,

I do not own Super Paper Mario or any of its properties.


It took some time, but they eventually returned to their lonely abode, the cold air outside had invaded through the open door, leaving the brothers in discomfort for a while.

Mario was lying in bed, the position would have been an annoyance if he had the will to care, but the knowledge of his unfortunate status seemingly drained what little amount of his former self was still intact. Why hadn't he noticed the effects sooner? The memory loss should have been his first sign of worry, he had just assumed the Wasteland was doing something to him; of coarse, he couldn't have been more right. After that came the excruciating pain in his eyes that never seemed to stop and the agonized feeling in his fingertips, both of which happened on and off. It wasn't until they happened simultaneously, and much more violently than before, that he realize something was definitely wrong. He trashed about as the burning in his eyes migrated into his brain and he clawed at his chest in hopes to ease the pain in his hands and the empty feeling trying to penetrate his heart. He was barely conscious during Luigi and Goompapa's conversation, but it was enough to learn what was wrong with him.

Luigi was checking his plants, picking out portions of the growth worthy to eat, and placing said portions in a carrying bag. The bag itself was special, being able to carry such a large quantity of items of many sizes and weights despite its fairly average size. Mario knew there was some kind of magic in the bag but had lost he possessed many travels ago trying to traverse the remains of Darkland, so Luigi was using his own bag.

"Mario," The little brother spoke, the first exchange they'd had had since the return home, "I'm going to heal you, and this world." He paused. "You'll come with me, won't you? We always worked better as a team." Luigi didn't quite know what convinced him this was the best option, his initial thought was that it was a sort of selfish desire to keep himself and the only person that truly cared for him alive and sane, but he knew all too well that really it was his kindhearted nature breaking free from its cocoon of fear and timidness to emerge as a spark heroic compulsion, a compulsion that seemed to come from the deepest part of his familial bloodline.

It was a long while before Mario declined his sibling's offer, "I can't Luigi." He felt obliged to defend himself, "I'm slipping away ever so gradually, eventually my deteriorating mindset will force me to kill without reason, chances are you'd be the first victim when that happens. I need to stay here, isolated from the world, for everyone's safety." He rose up to embrace his little brother whose face was glazed with sweat and tears. "It's better this way." He whispered, just enough to be heard.

The door locked behind Luigi when he left, the frigid air crawled through him like termites in the oldest of oak trees; from that point onward, he had one mission: Heal the world.

Granted, such a task would be incredibly difficult, he probably wouldn't survive the first hour alone, but if he could find a way to stop the corruption from consuming his brother, it was worth a shot. He strode along in the direction of Toad Town, silently hoping the stores still held something salvageable and that the store owners were willing to sell. He wasn't going to resort to stealing unless he became desperate.

It soon occurred to him that, while the trail to the town was intact, the area around it was vastly different from how it had been prior to the supposed end of days; the space outside of the normal trail looked like chucks of alien worlds had been stitched in place of the forests that usually surrounded either side, the "stitching" being spaces of ground that faded from one type of earth in one place to pure white and then to another type of earth in the next place. It could have been beautiful when the world was still healthy and full of color, but that was no longer the case; instead the land was dull, lifeless, and lacking in hue.

His eyes were drawn to a body of water to the left-hand side, the soil had a grid-like texture that was prominent in the water as well, almost like swimming pool. The thing that brought his attention was the splashing several feet into the pool; he immediate responded by running towards the water. Someone was drowning, he was sure of it. The violent movements lessened as he got closer, they were getting weak and unable to remain surfaced. He had to be quick.

He dropped his bag mid-run as he was inches away from the water. Everything was a blur as he swam in the murky depths. He heard movement, turned towards it, approached it. Every action felt like swimming in a thick oil. The water turned a purple hue as he went down. He hit something. No, someone? It almost looked like a person. He held them. Strange, they were rather light. Something tugged at his leg. A hand. A long white hand. Two of them. Five of them. They were trying to pull him down. He kicked. He swam up. He kick and he chocked as he felt the need to breath.

He surfaced. He breathed. He swam with his passenger now on his back. He breathed. He swam. He kicked. He beached. He breathed, again. He lived.


So what do you think?

Hopefully you guys have noticed this by now, but when Luigi is stressed or scared the sentences get shorter and choppy to match the feeling of thinking under pressure.

Anywho, Audios!