It's Friday again, which means that another Smasher (or two) is about to feel the Wrath of Green! Let's see who draws the short straw today…

"Something changed in [him] that day. Something snapped."

-Toy Story 3 (2010)

Eye contact—one of the most powerful and silent means of communication. Looking at someone at the right moment, with the perfect amount of fire in your eyes, could tell someone to pick on someone their own size. By a similar argument, soft looks could signify love, trust, sympathy, compassion, caring, and even forgiveness. Eyes said things that lips didn't have the power to convey.

Let's now turn our attention to a mustachioed man in green, and the look he presently gave the troublemaking Koopalings in their Junior Clown Cars. He glared at them through the brim of his green hat, eyes shooting death more intense than any Death Stare he'd given before, venom and bloodlust all riddled into one. One glance at him would be enough to convince potential attackers to make themselves scarce.

Unfortunately, the Koopalings (except Wendy, who was doing yoga with the Wii Fit Trainer) were either slow learners or too dense to take the hint. Instead, B.J. led them in spitting reproaches, ridicule and threats at their prey with ill-hidden contempt. You see, earlier that day, their victim had completely owned B.J. during a match, wrecking his Junior Clown Car (which had long since been repaired) and giving him such a beating that Mario, impressed beyond belief, had started cheering a little too loudly and was politely asked to leave. Humiliated, B.J. enlisted his brothers, including Iggy, Lemmy, Morton, Larry, Ludwig and Roy, in cornering him in a small courtyard a few meters from the locker rooms. Their aim was to sour the taste of his victory and break him from the inside. The assault was mainly verbal, and what they had to say would've earned them swift discipline had their father been, say, a little more respectable.

For the past five minutes, the fighter in green had been a de facto captive, suffering through words sharper than a razor and ominous remarks about how he couldn't take on all seven of them. They mocked his long nose and the way he pulled on it when idling, as well as the sheepish way he rubbed the back of his head and the sad little kick to the ground he had as a down taunt. All he did was give them the silent treatment, refusing to allow them the benefit of seeing how their words affected him. But the Koopalings were a stubborn lot, just like their father, and strove to put a crack in that stoic armor.

Like an expert hunter, their target patiently waited for the opportune moment to use stronger means of persuasion. That opportune moment came in the form of B.J. talking trash about how he was going to wreck Mario the next time they met in combat.

Hey! Nobody messes with my big bro!

B.J.'s smart mouth would cost him dearly. Seconds later, he was out of the secure confines of the JCC and in the ghost-busting plumber's cast-iron grip.

"Non mi preoccupa più." Never bother me again.

To punctuate his point, he wound up and splattered B.J.'s smug little face with his Fire Jump Punch. B.J. was launched skyward, and then toppled back to the ground in a useless heap. His mug was pretty out of whack now, with a dislocated jaw, a squished eye and a flattened snout, all of it covered in a satisfying amount of blood. He could only watch as the man he was harassing marched over and forward smashed him into oblivion.

The remaining Koopalings were frozen in awe and terror, the balance of power dramatically shifted. B.J. had been the primary conspirator, and with him out, their plan was in ruins. The green avenger turned around and concentrated the hatred in his heart in his look. Blood still pumped from his earlier match, and it was time to show these stupid turtles who was number one!

Then, Morton decided to act tough. "Look here, the Green Mario wants to fight," he sneered, the hated nickname throwing gas onto the fire. "C'mon, gang; let's do what we normally do to his brother, but worse!"

Gaining courage from Morton's cockiness, the Koopalings charged at their victim. But he was ready for them.

Morton attacked first, using the boxing gloves from his JCC. But with a rapid-fire chain of punches and kicks, his opponent tore them loose from the vehicle. He then performed a flip kick, sending Morton out of the JCC—and into his arms. Immediately, he flipped and slammed Morton onto the ground, following up with two forward aerials and his down-B, leaving him dizzy. While Morton was stunned, the man focused on the vacant JCC, ferociously smash attacking it till it was a twisted mass of scrap metal. Morton screamed in anguish, jumped up, and blindly charged at the vandal.

Big mistake.

Without the JCC, Morton was virtually defenseless. His opponent capitalized on this, meeting him with jab after jab, kick after kick, head-butt after head-butt and spike after spike. Something sang in his ear as he set about destroying Morton like he destroyed his precious JCC, using his up-B, side tilt, down smash and forward smashes whenever possible. By the time he grew short of breath, Morton was crying, drool and snot streaming from his nose. Unfazed, the man shoved Morton to the ground, driving his fist into his body until he was a pulpy mess just like B.J. For the finishing touch, he silenced the turtles annoying whimpers by snapping his neck.

"Morton! No!" wailed Iggy before rushing over to avenge his brother.

Iggy brought out his drill arms from the JCC, determined to turn this green wimp into shredded meat! Deftly, the man led him on a brief chase round the courtyard, confusing him by dodging and vaulting all over the place. There was so much adrenaline in his system that there was no room for fear. With one powerful leap, he was at eye level with Iggy, a big smile on his face. Before Iggy knew what was going on, the man put on a stunning aerial demonstration which knocked out his molars and tore both of his eye sockets. The man finished by using his neutral aerial to eject Iggy from his JCC.

While falling, the man held Iggy so that when they landed, Iggy took all of the damage. He flopped around like a fish out of water, squealing. Lemmy readied the cannonballs on his JCC and ran to Iggy's aid. As his prey dodged the swinging cannonballs, he battered all sides of the vehicle before graduating to his body, starting with his gut and moving on up to his chest, neck and face. Eventually, he grabbed Lemmy by the hair and jerked him out of the JCC, head-butting him during his descent. After they hit the ground, the man did his drill kick attack, turning Lemmy's gut into a viscous soup, and topped it all off with a few good hand stabs, shearing his carotid artery. He then noticed Iggy, screeching that he couldn't feel his legs, and opted to put him out of his misery by beating his face in.

He plopped onto his butt, resting, and then remembered that there were three more Koopalings who now wanted his head on a silver platter. But first, he allowed himself a minute-long trip to the conveniently located drinking fountain, slurping loudly and letting the stream pour all over his face and hair. Now, he was damp, but ready.

Roy unleashed the battle cry of his forefathers and launched his JCC at his target, a titanium ripping saw at the ready. At the same time, Larry rushed from behind, wielding a large drill from the bottom of his JCC. Finally, Ludwig advanced from the side with a giant fork. Their green prey was boxed in once more—or so they thought.

The man closed his eyes and jumped, performing an awesome corkscrew jump whilst airborne. The three JCCs collided with each other, the crunch of metal against metal pleasing to their intended victim's ears. Their state of confusion left them ripe for attack. Larry was first, as payback for trying to sneak up on him and because he hated that drill. His blows disconnected said drill from the wrecked JCC. Then, he grabbed the disarmed vehicle and swung it so that centrifugal force pinned Larry. When he let go, the JCC bounced on the ground several times, losing crucial parts as it did, and then completely shattered when it hit on the last time. Larry crawled to safety, but it was short lived. The man put a half-nelson about his neck, brought up his knee and fell on top of him. The two grappled for several heart-stopping minutes before Larry finally accepted his fate. His foe released him, straddled him, and finished him with two fiery punches to his upper back, reducing his spinal cord to rubble.

Roy and Ludwig had long since abandoned their vehicles and now stood, shell-shocked, looking at the man who calmly stared back. Without further ado, he let loose with his fireballs, sending them both into a frenzy as they attended to singed hair and scorched hide. They made a mad dash for their incapacitated JCCs, looking for a weapon to salvage. Roy found a few ninja stars and wildly flung them at the man, who fluidly dodged while still hurling fireballs. Ludwig rushed at him with a large hammer over his head, but a lucky down smash knocked the feet from under him, jarring the hammer out of his reach. He then grabbed Ludwig and threw him into Roy.

They were on the ground, minds spinning, as the man quickly approached them. There was no time to consider a strategy. He could handle two opponents at once, punching one and kicking the other, spamming his down-B to simultaneously rack up their damage points. In desperation, they tried dashing at him from different directions and throwing rocks and clumps of dirt at him. But all in vain. Their enemy was on fire, punishing blows erupting from him at an alarming rate, sending them helplessly twisting in a vortex of pain. He grunted and yelled with each blow, and to say that it felt good was an understatement. He'd had enough of the Koopalings' intimidation games. Just because they were inside heavily armed vehicles during a match didn't make them better than the other Smashers. Memories of earlier harassment seeped into his brain, enabling him to release the sting and hate that had built inside him.

After launching Ludwig with a forward smash, he focused entirely on Roy, on destroying him bit by bit. His smashes and tilts ate him up like a delicious dessert, until finally he burrowed into him with his Green Missile, pinned him to a wall, and swiftly snatched both of his eyeballs from his face. Roy screamed as the man dropped him to the floor, sentencing him to live out his final minutes in darkness and agony.

Only Ludwig remained, and the last one was always the best.

He strolled toward him, repeatedly licking his lips until they were almost sopping wet, and then popped him upwards with his down taunt. That opened the floodgates to the depths of his fury, smash attacks, dropkicks, roundhouse kicks and special moves crashing into Ludwig like ocean waves. His heart drummed against his chest, his face was red-hot, and his breathing became erratic. All Ludwig could do was pathetically scream and beg him to just finish him and get it over with. But the man wouldn't settle for anything less than emptying every last drop of his emotions onto him, making sure it was all gone, and that Ludwig's face was more banged up than his JCC.

At long last, he brought his punishment to an end with a brutal ground-pounding that left Ludwig senseless, barely hanging on. The man sifted through the remains of the JCCs and brought up the giant fork. Wearing his wicked smile, he casually strolled over to his downed tormentor.

"You can't do this to me," snorted Ludwig. "You're a secret character."

"Not anymore."

With those parting words, he drove the fork in, twisting it so that a prolific amount of crimson liquid spurted from Ludwig's mouth as well as from the stab wound. The fork had penetrated a vital organ and caused serious internal damage. The man sighed in contentment as Ludwig breathed his last.

Leaving the fork in, the victor spun on his heel and left the courtyard. He was on his way to spend some quality time with his bro before their scheduled Team Battle.

This afternoon was bound to be a good one indeed.

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