Author's Note: Sorry for taking longer than usual. I plan on changing to an "update whenever I feel like it" sort of schedule to reduce the stress of juggling multiple side projects and blogs and stuff at once, but I might as well upload one more chapter in the meantime, while I'm working on figuring out what to do with my life. (EDIT: Thanks to Skittycreamstar for noticing a typo. Thanks for letting me know!)

Several days pass without incident. A few messes here and a damaged wall there, but nothing unusual for those residing at the Smash Tower. However, many days of non-stop brawling is taking a toll on poor old Olimar, and his younger partner is beginning to notice, despite his consistent denial. Alph takes his concerns to the highest level he could think of, and they give an unexpected solution.

"We have received some concerns regarding the well-being of our fellow Smashers," Master Hand's voice booms over the speakers. "As safety is our number one priority, we shall directly address them right now. Everyone come to the landing dock in one hour; the rest will be explained later."

That "explanation", if one can call it that, consists of a Mii pilot ordering everyone into a giant plane and sending them to a resort on Wuhu Island. The resort provides a wide variety of activities, from hot springs to racetracks. Name it, and it's available somewhere. The Smashers, themselves in need of a break, take complete advantage of this opportunity.

Olimar heads straight for the library, hoping a little light reading would refresh his mental capacities. But his thoughts continuously race in a loop, and he finds himself unable to focus. He skims the environment, looking for some way to relax.

Sitting in some bean bag chairs in a corner is a pair of twins in robes. Their attention is taken by the book they're sharing, and they whisper in sync with each other. Creepy.

In a table not too far from the little alien is an effeminate man, his blue hair in a bob. Olimar only talked to him a couple of times, and even then, he spoke with a heavy accent, making him hard to understand. It's a wonder anyone can have a conversation with him. (Then again, others have noted his own accent, likely influenced by the staccato nature of his native language. He's been trying to hide it since.) But that's none of his business; he looks busy, anyway.

After a few more attempts, he gives up on the book and goes out for a walk. Peaceful and bountiful, the island feels like a utopia. Yet, aside from himself and the other fighters and the occasional Mii servant, the place is completely deserted. Whether this counts as a good thing or not, he is unsure.

Jogging past is the porcelain-skinned woman, followed by a man of similar appearance and Little Mac. Then Sonic zips by from the other side, knocking the wind out of everyone nearby. As he explores the resort, he bumps into more Smashers, including the Mario Brothers, who have plans to go karting with Bowser. He finally comes to the conclusion that the only one not having fun is him.

"But what's not to enjoy here," Alph asks with a surprised gasp. "This place has got everything!"

"I've tried everything. Reading, horseback riding, jogging, even go karting. But I can't help but feel like there's something missing."

"Well, the racing was fun, right?"

Scratching his head, Olimar replies, "I suppose a little. Until that spiny blue shell came into the picture."

Alph has a bemused look on his face, when a sudden idea strikes. "Oh, I almost forgot! Dedede's invited me to go with him to the hot springs. You wanna come?"

It doesn't take much to convince him. Not that he has much choice. Whatever nerves he had are washed away in the steaming hot water. The only downside is his own modesty in contrast to Alph's lack thereof. (Apparently, Koppaites have no sense of prudence.) But judging by the blue-haired presence peeking in from behind the sliding door, he's not the only one.

"What're you waitin' for, Martha? Come on down!" Dedede slaps his hand against the rock ledge beside him.

"My name is Marth, you oversized flightless bird," 'Martha' snaps. "And why are you the only one in clothes?" He jabs a finger at Dedede, who is still wearing his underlying robe and belt.

"I got a skin condition. Now, quit yer whining an' jump in!"

"It's fun," Alph adds with glee.

Suddenly cornered, Marth stutters, "On second thought, I—"

"If it's about yer li'l weight problem, ya don't have t' worry one bit," Dedede sneers with a slap of his fat belly.

With hesitance, Marth steps out and approaches the spring. His 'weight problem' is hardly worse than average, but it would explain the sudden habit of wearing looser clothing. Plus, his chubby cheeks, combined with his pitiful expression, makes him look even cuter. "P-please don't laugh."

The blue penguin holds back a snicker. "Yer makin' a big deal over this?" He pokes at Marth's tummy, causing him to wince. "No wonder you've been holdin' back!"

"Me, hold back?" The bluenette scoffs. "If anyone is holding back, it's Olimar."

Olimar's pointed ears twitch. "True, this old man isn't as sturdy as he was in his prime. But then again, the same can be said of you, eh, old man?"

A scowl forms on Marth's face as he grabs hold of his wrist. "What do you know? I still can slice your minions before they can touch me."

"Maybe, but I could tell. Your reflexes are slower, and your range is..." He glances at the Koppaite. "Alph, take Dedede and distract him. This is between Marth and me."

The penguin's beak cracks a toothy grin. "Fine by me. I needed some fresh air, anyway."

After they leave, Olimar resumes his conversation. "How's your wrist doing, by the way?"

Marth bows his head in shame as he bends his wrist slightly. "It's been better. Can't say the same about your hands."

Olimar glances at his knuckles, splotched various colors and achingly stiff. "That's what I get for trying to break Bowser's shell," he says with a chuckle. "Look at us old men, trying to prove ourselves in some stupid tournament."

"It's not stupid!" The sudden outburst throws the Captain off. "You may think we do this for fun or for glory, but some of us are here for a reason."

"Says you, 'hero-king'," Olimar retorts, a harsh tone in his voice. "You have everything you could possibly ever want—"

"Except a kingdom." The smaller man looks at the taller one's eyes, sad and lonely, and bites his tongue. "Shortly after my first time at the tournament, I returned to my land, and we prospered. I thought I could repeat my success, so I accepted Master Hand's second offer. But when I came back, Archanea had fallen. During my absence, a rival kingdom had declared war and ravaged my own. My wife, my people... all gone."

After a long moment of silence, Olimar finally mutters, "I'm sorry. I didn't know..."

"Don't bother with words," Marth interrupts, wiping a tear from his eye. "Next time we meet in battle, prove yourself with action." He holds out a hand. "For fun or for glory. Why do you fight?"

"For fun or for glory." The words resonate in his head. Staring down at his own bruised hands, his mind starts to wonder. Briskly, he grabs hold of the taller man's hand and shakes it. "Very well, then. I accept your challenge!"

Back at the hotel, Alph waits outside Dedede's room while he changes into some dry clothes. "If you were gonna change anyway, why bother wearing them in the first place?" He mutters bitterly while tapping his foot. His tone makes a one-eighty the moment the door opens. "'Bout time you finished! We're gonna be late at this—" He inspects the penguin top to bottom, noticing a considerable change in wardrobe. "Wow, Dee, you really dress for the occasion. You are a king!"

"Ya mean I wasn't before," He asks, raising a brow. "Well, it ain't everyday I wear this sorta stuff. Might as well go all out."

They head downstairs to the ballroom, where everyone, friend or foe, can settle their differences and party to their heart's content. Unlike the cafeteria or lounge, there's a lot more inter-universe mingling, due to a combination of too much drink and grand-scale ballroom dancing choreography. In contrast, Olimar seems to become more somber and anti-social with each sip.

"Ollie, you've been drinking an awful lot tonight," Alph says nervously. His escort, the king, has long since left him to go chat with Bowser and the other heavyweights.

Staring down at his glass, he replies with befuddlement, "I have? Strange." He is not known for having much tolerance with alcohol (that's more along Louie's specialties), making this sudden habit even more surprising. "I really must not have anything better to do."

"If you don't wanna stay, I can bring you ba—"

"No, don't. I'll be okay." He finishes off the last of his drink and hands it to Alph. "Just give me a moment. And perhaps some water."

Alph, more concerned with Olimar's well-being, hesitates before complying. Even as he steps out of sight and towards the refreshments table, he glances back from time to time, hoping the veteran Captain doesn't do anything reckless or worse in his absence. While swapping out the empty glass for a plastic cup of water, Alph's arm collides with another, spilling both drinks. "Sorry! I'll go clean that—"

"Nonono, it's okay," the other person interrupts. The other person, a blond woman dressed in a sparkling blue dress, whips out a handkerchief and wipes the spilled water from the floor. "I should have been more considerate." She blinks, her single exposed eye widening, as if face-to-face with a long-lost friend. "You look familiar. Are you Captain... Falcon?"

"What? Me? No, I think you're confused. I'm Alph—not really a captain. I dunno where everyone gets that impression." He shakes the thought off. "Anyway, you're probably thinking of Olimar. He's the real captain." He follows up with, "Er, no offense, Mr. Falcon."

"None taken," says a buff, helmeted man in blue as he shuffles onto the dance floor.

The lady chuckles, her voice delicate like the baby blue she wears. "Well, it's lovely to meet you, Alph. I hope you don't mind my asking, but I would like to meet your friend."

"Er, I dunno. He hasn't been in the best mood lately."

"No worries. I simply wish to introduce myself." She smiles gently, which is enough to sway him.

He escorts her to where he last left Olimar, sulking in a far-off corner of the ballroom. The Hocotatian's ears twitch, picking up on Alph's presence. Alph hands him the water and distances himself, leaving him alone with with a stranger in blue. The stranger curtsies and introduces herself. So formal is she, both in manner and appearnace, that her name becomes an even bigger shock. "R-Rosalina?" He has heard her name in conversation, particularly in discussions over 'tier lists', which many of the Smashers create and use in their silly gambling games. According to the list, she is rumored to be among the top players, a true force of nature. But seeing her in person, he's taken aback, his subconscious unable to connect the top-tier competitor with the matriarch standing before him. "I, erm, I'm Olimar."

"Yes, your friend told me," she says, her tone lighthearted. "I came across one of your recent performances. Right away, I could tell you were unique."

"Yeah, I get that a lot," Olimar replies, apprehensive. "I'm not really that interesting in person, however."

"But you're not boring at all! Just the opposite, in fact."

"I'm sorry, but you seem to have gotten the wrong impression of me."

"Really? If you're not interesting, then how would you describe yourself?"

Olimar tries to come up with something impressive, but cannot think of a single positive thing to say about himself. Even if he were to ignore the tier lists—which have dismissed him as "bottom of the barrel"—he cannot deny that he is far from saintly. "Well, I'm smart? And I guess that's about it."

"You're certainly modest," Rosalina says with a smile. "And passionate, and observant, and daring, too."

"Wha-How did you get all that from a single fight?" Besides, those words could describe just about any fighter.

"I forgot to mention compassionate."

Olimar has to double-take. Of all the words to use, "compassionate" is the one least likely to describe him. From his personal experiences (and the many jokes that follow), pretty much anything he touches dies or gets hurt somehow. He never liked those jokes, but he's since resigned himself to his fate. This sudden compliment—if he can assume it as such—leaves him speechless.

After a moment of non-reaction, she continues. "Well, that's about all I wanted to say. I look forward to meeting again on the battlefield." She waves goodbye and floats off, leaving him astounded.

"Looks like you guys get along well." Olimar's ears pick up on Alph's voice and when he turns his head, the Koppaite flashes a grin. "I think you'd make a cute couple. Look, even your face is getting red!"

Olimar can feel himself burning up inside, and not just because he's right. "I'm going to bed," he mutters as he staggers towards the exit. "I think I've had too much. Don't follow me."

Despite his grumbling, he collapses the moment he goes out the door, prompting Alph to carry him upstairs anyway.

-Round Four Post-Script-

Back at the Smash Tower, security is at an all-time high. Armies of Mii-bots march the halls, while smaller groups swarm to clean up the messes made by the mysterious perpetrators. After receiving the news, Louie is ordered to stay behind and supervise. "What a pain," he mumbles to himself as he watches a troop of Miis march off.

He recalls being summoned to the Hands's domain, and watching the video footage. The security cameras from within the Tower and installed in his ship caught footage of not one, but eight culprits causing trouble. Many Mii-bots were destroyed, the halls scarred from the corrosive substances they used, and his personal hoard of valuables have gone missing. Luckily for him, the hooligans responsible were not a stealthy bunch, so most of their faces were caught on camera. He had to squint just to confirm, but he could have sworn they looked like giant turtles with hair.

But that isn't urgent. What is urgent, however, is the pink-haired woman approaching him. "Louie, I've received the results from the chemistry lab. The paint substance is made up of several foreign components, which appear to originate from some place they call the Mushroom Kingdom."

"And the investigative team?"

"Based on the chem report, they've sorted through the data for all the most notable residents of the Mushroom Kingdom, and narrowed it down to these results." She hands him a sheet, which contains the names and faces of all the culprits. Despite their colorful, diverse features, they all shared one thing in common: "Koopa".

He hands the list back. "Thanks, Brittany. Call up the security bots; have them search top to bottom. Tear up the vents if you have to."

"You're asking them to destroy property just to find some vandals?"

"Trust me, these are more than mere vandals. They're connected by one thing: Bowser."

Any traces of doubt are instantly erased from her face, replaced by surprise. "You mean that giant shelled dragon? That Bowser?" Up until her transfer into Hocotate Freight's science department, she was stationed on Koppai, where she watched the Smash Tournament from the local channels. Speculation is still premature, but many are claiming the King of Koopas to be among the top contenders.

"Yes, that Bowser. It's possible he snuck them in somehow. Either way, I'll have to report this to the Hands." Man, what a pain. "In the meantime, you're in charge."

"In charge of what?"

One of the Mii-bots approaches Louie. "Ground floor's all clear, sir," the Mii drones while saluting.

"Great. Now, pay attention, all of you. From now until further notice, Brittany's the boss. Follow her orders to the letter. Got it?"

"Yes, sir!" The lead Mii, then the others, salute in reply.

Brittany, initially caught unaware by Louie's change in command, straightens up and raises her voice, now stern and cold. "First order: Search every last inch of the building—rooms, vents, the works. Leave no stone unturned. No matter what must be done, find Bowser Jr. and the rest will follow."

The Mii army complies and follows through, becoming more aggressive in their search—though thankfully, they're not as destructive as she had come to expect—and she is left alone to her thoughts. She reads through the list again. Ludwig, Lemmy, Iggy, Roy, Wendy, Morton, Larry. And at the very bottom, a young Koopa, similar to Bowser in name and appearance. There's no guarantee her plan will work, but if they are related to the King himself, they could pose a far larger threat than mere vandalism.