A Gathering of Sacrifices

THE FOURTH TALE:

Pikachu and the Pokemon of NIMH

A cold cage was different than a pokeball. The pikachu huddled in one corner of it, trying to shiver off the mild pain of wounds in its skin left by too-large needles. Pokemon were usually kept in pokeballs. The pikachu had been inside those before and did not care for that experience much, either.

A memory washed over him of being warm against his mother's side in a dry den in the forest, a tiny pichu newly hatched from an egg. The creature in the cage did not have many memories. Most had been taken from it by the things the men with long shadows had done to its head. The pikachu, however, remembered the smells of the forest, the soft earth beneath its paws, the sight of sunlight dappling through layers of leaves up above him.

He resolved to get back to that before realizing that he had, in fact, reasoned out the resolve.

Yes, yes…. The men with long shadows… what had they called him in their language? A "subject." Why had he become familiar with their language? "Subject" was the word spoken every day when he was taken from his cage. It was the word spoken when his cage was cleaned and fresh food had been put down for him. The other pokemon in cages around him moaned and growled. Some of them called for their former trainers, to no avail. Some spoke about the wilds. Some were just hurt and wanted not to be hurt. Others were simply afraid.

Pikachu tiptoed to the edge of his cage and peered down through the bars at what he could make out of a placard. He saw the symbols upon it – the human-symbols – and understood them. "Subject 025-A," read the top part, followed by simple feeding-instructions. On another placard were the words "Lift latch to open door." The pikachu reached and strained one of his forepaws through the bars to do just that.

He hadn't anticipated that the floor was a long way down. The pokemon tumbled and landed hard. Thankfully, he had not broken anything (a few bruises, perhaps), and he had not awakened any of the beings with long shadows. The room remained dim, lit only by a few safety-lights and the screensaver on the large computer at the far wall. Pikachu approached it, staring at the hurtling starry field in an imaginary void of space.

He tried to ignore the grunts and groans of the other pokemon here. They were all "subjects." He walked past a cage filled with a mixed litter of tiny meowth and skitty kittens, all huddled together in the absence of a mother. One of the meowths gave him a long stare – and a deeper kind of stare than they usually gave anyone or anything. It was as if it was as aware as the pikachu had become. The electric-rodent shook it off and continued toward the computer. He felt drawn to it as if it were the very source of life. He felt the energy of its stored and humming electricity though his fur, bones and spirit.

As he hopped up into the chair and brought the screen to life by pressing his forepaws down on the keyboard, he understood. He understood what the keyboard was for and what the letters meant. He could read the languages of the signs on the wall – the human languages – though some of them were entirely different from one another and said the same things with different configurations of letters or different characters altogether. Data shot through his brain instantly, just by being in the proximity to the machine.

Pokemon were creatures which could be converted into energy and data. This was how pokeballs worked and how computer storage for them worked. Artificial worlds could be created within a computer system to keep pokemon happy. When they were traveling with their trainers inside a ball, they were put into a kind of stasis or sleep – one where it was possible for them to know roughly what was going on unless they had fainted from exertion or battle. The entire modern pokemon industry replied upon the fact that for pokemon, flesh and data could be one and the same and easily transferable.

Still, the pikachu had never experienced this kind of data-transfer before. Perhaps the electrical data was merging with own stored electricity as his little claws clacked over the keys. Maybe, whatever the men who worked here had done to him had increased his capacity to merge with data. All he knew was that over the last couple of weeks, he'd been learning many new things and retaining the information. His mind and his world had been expanding. He'd been talking to the other pikachu in the cage below his through the floor, a little female, but their conversations had been growing increasingly one-sided. She'd stopped being able to understand most things he said to her, it seemed.

The humans would have been better company, but they also failed to understand him. They also failed to stop jamming him with needles and putting wires to his cheek-pouches.

The humans' data – the data flying at him at the speed of light as he used his intuition to break through the locks on the files… ah, yes, this was good company. It also confirmed his status as a "subject." His little female friend, was of course, in the "control group." She hadn't been stuck, prodded and cut with needles, wires and knives.

This place was a laboratory and there were many experiments and projects. Some of the pokemon were being given "treatments" to boost muscle-mass. The cage that was cleaned out last week, the espeon… he'd been given something similar to the chemicals that Pikachu had been injected with specifically to increase his psychic abilities. He'd suffered a fatal stroke. There were references to the "M2-Experiment" that had gone on somewhere else under the supervision of a different group than what worked here. The file that Pikachu brought up showed him the single member of an artificial species of pokemon created from the genetic material of an excessively rare creature.

After he'd binged on data, the pikachu decided that he did not want to stick around this place. The men with long shadows did not need to know that they had successfully "boosted" his brain. They did not deserve to know. He saw a high-window that had been left slightly ajar to air out the lab. Either some careless intern had forgotten to close it or it was left open on purpose by the crew, never dreaming that there'd be a problem with it. Just as he was about to leap onto a desk and make the jump up to the window, something stopped him.

The light of the moon caught the coin atop the head of that one meowth kitten that had been staring at him. The moon also caught his eyes. They pleaded with the pikachu. His brothers and the skitties let out soft mews and little purrs. The other pokemon were at rapt attention in their cages, starting down at Pikachu. Even the old, defanged houndoom on a chain in the corner woke up and pawed the floor impatiently.

Wary of any humans that might be outside the laboratory to hear, the pikachu began to systematically unlatch cages. He jumped up and, with the help of a muscle-boosted rattata, managed to slide the window open enough to let the larger subjects out. A freed sandslash broke the chain on the houndoom and even he was able to wedge himself through the window, just barely.

The last to leave, Pikachu sent a sound Thundershock through the computer. He'd gotten all of the data from it he'd needed. The laboratory-humans didn't deserve to have it anymore.

After some time, the woods began to bore the pikachu. He'd taken the control group female as his mate, but she's scampered off after they'd spent a week together, presumably to lay their eggs without him. It was not like Pikachu had remembered any parent other than his mother. He realized that he was merely a "buck." His new self-awareness made him long for more than that, but he knew that the little female wouldn't have been happy as a wife.

He found himself making structures out of twigs and rocks and sculpting things out of riverbank mud. The pokemon had become creative. Instead of taking to a standard den for pikachu, he'd developed his home into something almost like the better parts of the lab. He'd created cushions out of plant floss and wild pokemon fur found in the fields, woven with different patterns. He'd made himself bowls for his food out of clay he baked with fires he'd set off with his electricity. Pikachu was comfortable, but he was lonely. He could still speak to the wild creatures, but few understood the complexity of his ideas.

Pikachu found himself frequenting the outskirts of a town to steal small items and to nibble on electrical wires to boost his energy. It was a fairly common habit for pikachu. He managed to duck all detection and he got bolder. His hubris caught up with him, however, when a young pokemon trainer managed to corner him. The pikachu defended himself well against the boy's squirtle, downing it quickly. It was the charmander, however, that weakened him enough to prevent escape. Pikachu felt a sensation that he had not known for what, to him, was an age. His data was energized and transferred into a pokeball. He tried to resist the loyalty programming of the ball, but, as intelligent as he was, he failed.

He reluctantly began his life as a tamed beast.

The boy, named Red, was actually quite nice, for a human. He spoke to Pikachu gently and pushed treats over to him when it became clear that he did not trust humankind. Red coaxed him with delicious things, little poffins and puffs, until the pikachu was in range to be touched. Red seemed to be appalled when the tips of his fingers found old, numb scars. Red was extra careful with Pikachu in battle, withdrawing him before he fainted out and healing him with items right away. It was as if Red had been able to sense that his pikachu's life had started out quite rough and that he needed extra attention in order to develop trust.

When the boy seemed to understand some of Pikachu's body language and what he'd meant with some of his cries, Pikachu decided to train him.

The electric-mouse pointed to objects and used particular inflections in his language to get the young man to understand that those were his words for those objects and that he had a greater complexity in speech than the other creatures he trained. He could not use telepathy like some of the psychic pokemon, but he'd found communication almost as good. Red was a bright boy and took quickly. It was not long before the two would walk along the roadways having conversations that no other pokemon trainer could make sense of.

Red… really was the best trainer that Pikachu could ask for, even though he was the only person who had trained him formally. With the young man's friendship, he nearly forgot about his days in the laboratory. Red always stroked him carefully, avoiding needle and biopsy scars. Pikachu could not fully describe to him what had gone on, as the language-barrier between them still contained limits, but was able to type out some of his story in the word processing program of Red's travel-computer.

"Team Rocket?" the boy asked once, as he sat on a bench, looking at what his pet had tapped out on his little laptop.

Pikachu gave him a shake of the head. "I don't know," he'd communicated. "I do not know what group they were."

"Groups like that seem to pop up over all the regions," Red sighed. "People seeking power, abusing pokemon to get it."

Pikachu took the device in his paws again, typed and then read the words to Red in "Pikanese;" "As long as there are more humans like you in the world than them, we pokemon will be okay."

Red smiled and rubbed him behind the ears. "You're too kind."

"Should we give Charemeleon some exercise, then?" the pikachu asked, without using the type.

"That's a fine idea."

With that, Pikachu ran off into the bushes to flush out some healthy low-level pokemon that could survive a good fight for his "brother"-pokemon to practice on.

Red waved goodbye to Pikachu for a while when he was called away to special fighting tournaments in another world. He'd been chosen for it specifically, having gained notoriety with Red in the Pokemon League.

The fights in that other world at the center-of-worlds were wonderful. They were challenging and fun. Pikachu made many friends, including the "M2-experiment," which had also been called. Mewtwo hadn't gotten over a sense of misanthropy, considering himself a pokemon not to be tamed or to become a "pet." He insulted Pikachu with that term, "pet," and "pretty little pet." Sometimes, he spiced up the insults with "slave." Pikachu shrugged it off. Red was his friend and he did not see it any other way. He got along with Mewtwo, anyway. They had a lot to share with each other in regards to a shared history as experimental subjects.

Pikachu grew a special attachment to the human boys with the long ears like he had. He learned that they were Hylians – and two different versions of the same person, youth and age taken from different parts of their timeline. Both the Links took to his language quickly. He was surprised, frankly. He'd had a deep connection with Red and Red hadn't caught on so easily. Pikachu decided that maybe the "magic in their blood" had helped their understanding.

The little one, Young Link… Pikachu thought that he would have made a dynamite pokemon trainer. He had a keen sense for nature and was determined, brave and kind – all qualities that most pokemon instinctually responded to.

Pikachu returned from the tournaments refreshed and with stories to tell his dear Red.

Later, he regretted these good times, for he had been registered and his data had been given a tracking-number. There was no way he had of knowing what the future would bring. Not even the Psychic-type pokemon were able to see it coming.

The world changed quickly. Invaders from a world outside came, servants of a man with terrible power. Some said that he was a legendary pokemon reborn, some unknown spirit of Evil. This "Ganon" was from another universe entirely, however. The most powerful trainers faced him and his minions, only to watch their powerful pokemon fall. Unlike in honorable pokemon-battles, those that fell did not get up. Those that faced down Ganondorf's army died. Their pokemon died. The situation was like the legendary great war of Kalos that had so ravaged the land that entire species when extinct and the forests were full of the spirits of lost children.

The Legendary Birds rose up, like in the days of myth. Articuno, Zapdos and Moltres fell, and though they were not seen to have died, they vanished from the land. Even Lugia rose from the sea and was sent back there by Ganondorf himself as he marched along the coast. Mewtwo was captured alive.

Some people said that the Guardians of Life and Death from Kalos could surely route him. No amount of prayers to Xerneas brought the great deer up to protect their lives. Yveltal remained at rest in the depths of the earth, unable to smite the sorcerer and his servants with a deeper, righteous darkness. Both the beast and the bird of the ancient stories remained too wounded from the legendary war to participate in the current one.

Pikachu remembered Ganondorf from his time in the tournaments. He was the adversary of Link – both the Young and Adult versions. Both the Links had told him about their land's "Evil King." The electric-rodent never would have guessed the sorcerer would have been able to subjugate his entire universe even as the holder of the "Triforce of Power" until he'd seen it happen.

Pikachu had thought it almost as if that horrible man had been granted some kind of terrible divine wish.

Once those that wanted to save themselves, their families and their pokemon had surrendered and Ganon's dominance had been established, the Games began. The new President of the Worlds of Ninten revived the old cross-world tournaments, with a catch. This time, the tournaments had a defined structure and were deadly.

Pikachu cuddled close to Red as he watched the ending day of first "Brawl of Honor" in horror from his family's living room with them. The new tournaments, of course, were required viewing. Anyone caught outside after the curfew – and when the Brawl was airing, was asking for arrest, even "disappearance."

"Pika!" Pikachu yelped as Red gripped his fur too hard.

"I'm sorry…" he said. "It's just… it's almost over, isn't it?"

"Yes," Pikachu answered.

"We are supposed to be rooting for Mewtwo, aren't we?"

"Not necessarily. I'd like to see Link come out of it."

"Really? I don't know… I think he wants to join his brother."

It was the white-knuckle end, down to the last fighters. Red had gotten sick more than once during the airings. He knew that he'd be expected to know what had happened, so he watched and his mother with him. She was crying during nearly the entire broadcast, during all the prime-time showings. Mother, son and pokemon had all cuddled up during some of the grisly live-aired scenes and the grisly re-caps and updates.

"Why aren't you pulling for Mewtwo?" Red asked, genuinely curious.

"It doesn't matter if he wins," the mouse said matter-of-factly. "His attitude toward humans is unlikely to change. He will retreat to some hiding spot… will probably get our entire world in trouble again along the way by refusing any further demands. Link, however… he may be small, but he's also outside of Time. He is very brave and Ganondorf is his enemy, from his world. If anyone is going to be able to take him out of power and put this kind of horror show to an end, it will be him."

"In that case, it might have been better if the older one had survived."

"Perhaps. But Young Link has fire and not just in his arrows. Trust me."

Indeed, the surviving Young Link did mount a revolution. Pikachu did not join it, because he did not want Red to join it, which Red would have had he done so. His own life he could give up, but not Red's. Young Link failed. What had started with a bang had ended with a whimper.

Pikachu would not know why Ganondorf had kept Link alive until he, himself, was called to Brawl and could see for himself how broken the young man, now called "Toki" had become by surviving through his failures.

The pikachu's data had been tracked from his time in the "peaceful" tournaments. A burly moblin had to pry Pikachu out of Red's arms. Pikachu parted with a Nuzzle – just enough to paralyze the boy's cheek as a little "kiss," not enough to hurt him.

"If there's one thing I know how to do, it's survive!," he cried in Pikanese as he was taken toward the portal.

"You're smarter than any of 'em!" Red called back.

"Darn straight, kid! I'll come back to you!"

Pikachu did come back. His arena was nothing special, actually something of a varied landscape. It was fairly cold and snow had fallen over the rocky terrain. He utilized all of the survival tricks of a wild pokemon, known by instinct as well as a keen "human-like" mind.

Not being human despite having the intelligence of one (and a higher intelligence than many) aided him. As a pokemon, he didn't have, entirely, the same sense of morality as a typical human had. He knew that he was fundamentally different from Red. Red had a "soft heart," one that would impede his survival if he was in a do-or-die situation. Good humans like him did not kill their own kind or anything they deemed "like them" enough. The boy never thought too hard about the hamburgers or sushi that he ate, either. Pikachu thought of those things all the time.

Trained pokemon did not kill other pokemon. They were cared for by their trainers and fed a fortified, vitamin-rich diet with occasional treats and snarfing off their masters' plates. It was a dishonor to kill in a matched-battle. The rules of the wild, however, were very different. Wild pikachu preferred berries and nuts to meat, but Pikachu, himself, had raided pidgey nests for eggs and for newly hatched baby birds which he dispatched quickly during his days taking care of himself. He also talked to pidgeys all the time. It did not matter. Hunger was hunger and when he'd needed protein desperately, beings of the kind he'd befriend were, unfortunately, a part of his menu. He knew that liepards that stalked deerlings and pyroar that ate bunnelby were the same way. During trips to Kalos, Unova and other regions outside of Kanto, he'd met pokemon that had done that regularly in the wild who were great friends and "brothers" to the prey species that were on their teams, kept by their trainers.

Pikachu did not speak to Red about this. He figured he knew, since he studied the Pokedex, and he didn't think talking about it in detail would do anything but upset him.

All of the other fighters underestimated him, thinking of him as "cute" or "just a rat." They made the very fatal mistake of thinking that because he was an "animal" that he was therefore stupid. If anything, Ganondorf's crew was stupid that year. They'd left some of their lighting equipment behind on one of the mountain slopes. A coil of nice, conductive wire was all Pikachu needed to show those who had called him "dumb" just what a cunning beast he really was.

He laid his traps.

Lightning did really cut through plate-armor in a nasty fashion, the pokemon thought. The smell of cooking meat was almost enticing after the hunger had taken hold of him. There was very little in the ways of nuts and berries in this arena. Burning hair and clothing wasn't at all pleasant. The burning mushroom-smell from that one little dude's headwear was excessively weird.

It took a little longer for his enemies to die than he wished, Pikachu thought, but he did what he'd had to do. It was the wild and he was surviving. Survival was the only "law" in nature – Live and pass on your strength. Only those that survived evolved.

Yveltal take the rest.

"I don't think I can train you anymore."

Pikachu looked back at Red after being released from a seldom-used pokeball.

"Why not?" Pikachu asked. He twitched his ears and stroked his forepaws nervously. "I won, didn't I? I came back to you."

Red crouched down in the tall grass in a field outside Viridian Forest. "I don't think I have any more to teach you," he said.

Pikachu knew that he was lying. He could see that little twitch in his lips that indicated an untruth or a half-truth. He'd seen the boy use it on his mother when he tried to weasel out of chores all the time. This little twitch was for something stronger than "Yeah, I took the trash out, Mom," before running off to a friend's house, or "The growlithe ate my homework."

"You don't have much more to teach Charizard, either," Pikachu pointed out. "He is ready for the Elites, as am I."

"The Pokemon League will not let me use you in legitimate battle anymore," Red explained. "You entered the Brawl of Honor and won. You are considered too strong and too… dangerous."

"It doesn't matter," Pikachu said, craning his neck up. Red was giving him a strange gaze. It was full of sadness, but moreover, it was full of an emotion that every wild creature knew very well; fear.

"It doesn't matter," the mouse continued. "I did not work hard to win just to be used in battle. What kept me wanting to stay alive was the thought of coming back to you! You are my friend. I just want to be by your side, whether I am allowed to fight or not."

Red shook his head and adjusted his hat. "I…I can't… I can't anymore, Pikachu. I'm sorry."

A tear fell down the boy's right cheek.

"What? Why not?" Pikachu's cheeks were sparking slightly in panic.

"I saw what you did in the Brawl stage," came the boy's hoarse whisper. "I… I didn't know you were capable of that… of using your power like that. The people you killed… you killed people…and it was horrible…"

"So what?" Pikachu yelped, fuzzing out his tail and throwing out his forepaws. "It was for survival! They were predators! I got rid of my problem in the most efficient way I could!"

"Don't you feel bad for it, though?"

"Why should I? I shouldn't expect you to understand, you're a human!" Pikachu put his back to him and folded his forepaws. "You live by different rules… normally, or, at least, the best of you do."

"I would be lying if I didn't say that I was a little bit afraid of you now."

"You don't have to be, Red, you don't have to be. I did what I had to do so I could come home to… you."

Pikachu turned around and found that Red was gone.

Once again, Pikachu tried to live a wild creature's life. He'd built another fancy den, this time, making things that reminded him of Red's home. His life was no longer fully his own, however. Every damn year he got called back to Smash City to play "mentor" at the tournaments to the poor creatures that were chosen for it from this world.

Most of the time, it was fellow pokemon. They were typically taken from the rank and file of trained pokemon registered to high ranking trainers. Pokemon were preferred because they were fighting creatures with spectacular powers that made for a good show for Ganondorf and the audience in Smash City. Humans were not immune from being chosen, however. Pikachu had managed to communicate with those few who had been chosen. One year, some poor old lady named Drasna had been sent to her death. Pikachu found her classy and lovely and had done his best for her, but her body had not been up to it that year.

The year he saw Red again, nearly a grown man but still looking like a young boy, clean-faced and bright-eyed, he'd blown out the power in the entire Smash City Champions' Hotel. Twice – at the beginning of the Brawl when all the fighters entered the arena, and, after it had been fixed, in the middle of the Brawl when he knew he'd never get to be Red's pokemon ever again.

"You have to be ready to do anything," Pikachu had told him on the night before the beginning of battle.

"I don't think I am…" Red said nervously.

"Then find a friend who is," the rodent said, glaring.

"I'm glad you're coaching me," Red said softly. "I'm sorry… I'm sorry about before…"

Pikachu responded with a gentle Nuzzle, leaving Red numb and tingly. Red gave him a scratch behind the ears. "You have Squirtle in there," the rodent reminded him. "And you know how to use him."

"If we survive, will Ganondorf make us… him and me?"

"Yes."

Even though he was growing out of boyhood, Red cried. He held his hands up to hide his face and to catch the tears. His old friend rubbed his back with a paw.

"If it comes to it," Pikachu said gently, choking on the words, "think about it the same way the nurses in Pokemon Centers think about very badly injured pokemon that are brought into them – ones that cannot be healed. You know, the ones that bad trainers hurt or the ones that get into accidents. You can spare him having to do anything to you."

"Don't you think he'd want to survive? Survival is the law of nature."

"I could kill strangers," Pikachu confessed. "But if it came down to it, I'd rather you kill me than me kill you. I don't think Squirtle and I are very different."

As it went, Red found a friend who was willing to do what he could not. Midna of the Twilight Realm was fierce and matter-of-fact. She was, in Pikachu's reckoning, a true Dark-type. She did not relish killing, even if she enjoyed getting the upper hand in a fight. When she met Red in the great castle that was their Brawl stage, she respected his innocence and chose to talk with him rather than fight him.

She spoke quite a lot about "training wolves."

Together, they wended their way over ruins and figured out various puzzles to unlocking doors to various floors of the strange place. Squirtle had been lost along the way, taken by a large alliance that lost a couple of its members to Midna's swift magical bolts. The remaining members of the group made turtle-soup that night. Midna wrapped Red up in her robes and comforted him. He'd wanted to avenge Squritle with a rusted sword he'd found on one of the floors, but Midna talked him out of it, telling him that it was wise to bide their time.

And she comforted him later as he was dying from wounds he'd suffered when they'd next met up with that rival group. She managed to avenge him.

After that Brawl was over, Pikachu decided that he really liked Midna.

Pikachu wandered down the main hall that divided the Champions' rooms from the training area and the main viewing area. He passed Toki, looking a little more sober than usual – probably because he'd taken a shine to the boy he was looking after this year, not that the kid had a chance.

He needed to meet up with the Lady Samus Aran. They needed to figure out how to cobble together a facsimile of her power armor – something that would fool Ganondorf's eyes and the eyes of the stage crew and the audience. If what he'd been planning with Midna was to go through, Samus needed to take a decoy into battle, something she could fake a death in and something she could leave behind.

Toki had given him glares over his lackadaisical treatment of his pokemon charges. What Toki didn't know was that all of his chips were in the survival-game now and he knew they were already lost. He had the connections and the knowledge – all from secret hackings into the computer grid done over the years – to finish what Toki had been brave enough to start, but not determined enough to finish.

Pikachu had not succumbed to sorrow over Red. He grieved, but he did not let himself be consumed in grief. Toki wallowed in his pain like houndour pups wallowed in road kill. Pikachu could smell the despair and apathy on him – past all of the smells of liquor, sweat and vomit. Midna mourned his Red, too, which was strange, as they were not of the same world and had not known each other before their Brawl.

They all had someone that "broke" them, Pikachu supposed. Toki had his brother, the other Hero of Time, whom he'd killed by mistake. Midna had Red, who'd died in her arms and Pikachu had him as his always-missed former trainer. None of them could know it until the events happened, but in the relatively near future, Toki's young protégée would be broken, much like Midna, by a friend he'd made in the Brawl, an angel who was fiercer than he looked but too good for his own good.

It was nearing time for Pikachu, Mario and Midna, with Samus and Link 'd Ordon in tow to "go out to dinner" again.

Coming up with strategies for survival… that was what Pikachu knew best.

For those who do not quite get the chapter title due to youth, the chapter title is in reference to an old book that is better known for Don Bluth's adaptation of it as an animated movie. If you haven't seen it, do yourself a favor and look up "The Secret of NIMH." You'll either thank me for telling you about something very beautiful or curse me for it giving you nightmare fuel. I've read the book, too, but back when I was 10 or 11 and I haven't been able to find a copy since.

Pikachu in the "National Anthem" universe is, obviously, more of a random pikachu than the star of the Pokemon anime. I thought it better that way, that he have his own backstory.

I did not put much detail into Pikachu's Brawl because I did not know, exactly, who should have been there with him. This is a challenge I am going to face when writing Midna and Red's Brawl, which is a story I want to do. I know that Midna and Red are there, obviously, and that Zant is the last of Midna's enemies. The rest, I do not know. If readers have any suggestions of who you'd like to see fight and die, both villains and random, in that particular Brawl, leave who and why on a review or PM me. I haven't played all the videogames/series represented in the Smash series, and some I've played a bit of, but haven't played in-depth so you may have to give me a description and outside links for research (Fire Emblem or Earthbound/Mother or Star Fox characters, for example) I pretty much know all Legend of Zelda characters, so all they'd need is a mention. Make sure they aren't characters who have already been mentioned in this series or in "National Anthem"-proper as dying in other Brawls or as alive. I also cannot involve anything from Metroid or Kid Icarus since those worlds are "newly inducted" into the death-games as of the events of "National Anthem." Likewise, I'd rather not include any of the new announced for Super Smash 4 characters. I have enough of the legacy-Links in this story already. NO OCS.

The Midna and Red story will not be the next story. I have a couple of other sides stories in mind before I get to theirs, which gives you time to make suggestions and me the time to think.