Waking up in a strange an unfamiliar place was not one of the things I wanted to do before I died. Honestly, come on. It was cliché, a little bit freaky, and where the actual fudge did my zero-suit go, because I swear to God if I wake up in a new world and it's not my own, heads are going to roll was my first thought of many to come hurtling in at whirlwind speeds.

I slowly blinked, eyes feeling heavy and sated with sleep—something that was both familiar and foreign in more ways than one. The ceiling was tiled and smooth, white and crisp, not giving me anything to grab onto. In fact, I actually did a mini-freak out, flailing at the perfect canvas and getting tangled in the smooth bed-sheets when I thought the white was actual endless expanses of clouds or nothingness or heaven or whatever else the afterlife was supposed to be like. Breathing heavily, I peered around, eyes wide, taking in the room.

It was a bedroom, the bed underneath me perfect and soft, the sheets smooth and a light gray blue. Based on the perfectly made sheets a few feet away in the Queen sized bed, I hadn't been moving much in my… sleep, nor were these sheets anything like my own bed at home in their perfection. A window to the left was framed by soft lacey and white curtains, light filtering through the clear panes and telling me instantly that it was sometime… during the day. I couldn't see the outside due to the curtains, nor where the sun was rising, and the wooden bedside table to my left didn't have any clocks.

The room was on the bigger spectrum of a medium sized room, maybe about twenty feet wide and twenty-five feet long. The walls were painted a silvery-gray, and two white doors lined the empty walls along with the window, the closest across from me to the left and the other in front of me and slightly to the left. Both were closed, but neither appeared locked, and I blinked, trying to gather my thoughts into something intelligible.

Right. Zero-suit. I scrambled to push the sheets aside, throwing them off my previously pleasantly warm and now unpleasantly groaning in soreness and pain. I was wearing a plain gray shirt and what felt and looked like black sweat pants. The shirt was a little too big and the pants a little too small, but all I was currently processing was okay, new clothes, dear god please not another game change, where's Bruce, and who the heck took my zero-suit and put this thing on?

Then there was the pain. I winced, but it was more of a dull ache across my abs than anything, and slowly, tentatively, I lifted the gray V-neck, blinking slowly at the perfectly aligned white-bandages (as opposed to my sloppy and anything but medically sound) that covered me from the waist to about half-way up my rib-cage. Okay. Um. Yes, that was nice, thank you mysterious unnamed doctors, but where the fudge is my zero-suit and the special icy rock that I had in it and Bruce and Pit or even that Red chick and her fluffy Arcanine and please don't—

Then, of course, the door opened.

Red stepped in, raising an eyebrow at me as I failed to refrain my sagging in relief against the wooden headboard of the bed. Thank God. I was totally not ready for another reality change. I crossed my legs Indian style, opening and closing my mouth at the girl as she moved over to a desk on the far side of the room, grabbed a chair, spun it around backwards and slung herself over it, head propped up on her hands slung across the back. I failed to find the words, really beyond them, remembering with a flash how awkward of a time I had decided to, ah, leave off, finally deciding I was done with gaping and just staring, waiting for the girl to say something.

Finally, the girl shook her head with a brief raise of her brow, sighing. "Your name is Brittney," she started, flicking her red-hair over her shoulder. "You're fifteen years and eleven months old—the doctors couldn't quite get a day on you—have a height of 5'5, weigh roughly a hundred and fifteen pounds as of this moment—slightly underweight, probably due to your circumstance—have type O blood and you have twenty-four twenty vision, which we fixed for you, by the way."

I blinked, reaching up to touch the edge of my eye, closing them and searching for the far over-due for a change contacts I'd been working with for the past week. They were gone.

"Your lungs show slight strain, possibly due to very mild asthma," the girl continued, looking down at a small sheet of paper she had brought in with you, "which we also fixed for you, have one small old scar in the center of your forehead, not including the ones you've just acquired for yourself over what appears to be the past week and you are apparently related to the small, underweight, Pikachu R.O.B. brought with him approximately four and a half days ago to the edge of our force-field. Your natural hair-color right now is dark-blonde or light brown, and your eyes somewhere between grey and blue." Red paused taking a deep breath, not looking up from the paper. "You are also on not a single file in all available files from Nintendo Central, all the Pokémon Regions, Dreamworld, the Mushroom Kingdom, and even the barest of files we have from Skyworld, Hyrule, and even friggen Yoshi Island."

The girl lifted her piercing blue eyes up towards me for the first time, tossing the manila file up onto the bed without an apparent care for what I saw or did with it. It spilled onto bed-spread, a single, bare minimum sheet with apparently all the information the redhead had just listed out, along with a few pictures from the security cameras of the compound. I reached forward, taking one off the sheets and staring at it. It was one of me, way back when in the zero-suit, about to take out the R.O.B. whose camera eyes had taken the photo with a level plasma-gun.

I flicked up my eyes up, half-heartedly meeting the eyes of the girl from where she watched me on the chair with an expectant gaze. "What I would like to know," she said, cocking her head to the right like a curious bird, "is why?"

I paused, thinking for a moment as I carefully put the photo down on the bed and slipping it inside the folder. "Pit's okay then?" I asked, clearing my throat after the question came out cracked and rough from misuse. Pit was—as far as I could remember—the only one besides R.O.B. that knew my name. It could've just as easily been R.O.B. to tell them, but the girl hadn't known I wasn't Samus upon arriving, so my best hope was on Pit.

The girl glared at me, obviously smart enough to know that I was avoiding the question. "He's fine," she said simply, not offering any details.

"Then he told you what I told him?" I asked, meaning for it to come out less of a question and more of a fact.

"Pit refused to complete the debriefing until you woke back up," the girl said stiffly. "He did not offer up any information on who you or the Pikachu was except for your names."

I stared at her. "Really?" I asked, voice expressionless, not quite sure how to feel.

"Really," Red replied dryly.

I snorted, unable to hold back the smile that pulled at the corner of my lips that threatened to turn into a full on grin. Mary-Sue. Loyalty to a person he barely knew. That—that was—

—really nice.

"That sounds like him," I smiled, and I was surprised to find one (obviously unwelcome on her stoic face) tugging at the edges of Red's hard face.

"It does," she agreed, before the smile was gone and replaced by something a lot colder. "But you're avoiding the question."

I nodded, not denying it. "Is Bruce—the—the Pikachu that came along with R.O.B—okay? He's safe?"

Red nodded, a bit softer than it had been before. "He's fine. He—" she stopped abruptly, obviously having slipped up in her mean-cop demeanor, wincing, "—he enjoys hanging out with Archie," she finished, obviously deciding it not worth it to try and cover up her mistake.

Some of the tension I'd held in my shoulders up to this point dissipated. Check, check, check. "Can I see—?" I started.

"No," the girl's edge returned narrowing her eyes. "You answer my questions first. Pit's fine, the Pikachu's fine, the robot's fine—hey, even Falcon and DK were fine after we picked them up yesterday. Everyone's doing great, shockingly. So, now, you tell me who you are and why you're here."

I titled my head to the side, almost nervously. "You're not going to believe me," I told her, almost in a warning.

"If there's one thing I've learned since coming here," Red locked her arms on the chair, leaning back in a stretch, "it's the ones that think you'll think they're crazy who are actually not."

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

Warning Fourteen.

Be strong. There's a cheeseburger waiting for you at the end of the road.

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

"And then Wolf decided he was going to make me dance," I said, nearing the end of the story. "And I did—for a while—I was holding on to the hope that R.O.B. would send help and I drew it out, taking my time, really digging my feet in. And it worked. You guys showed up a ways after, and you know the rest."

Red sat back in her chair, slow and deliberate, just staring at me. I became increasingly uncomfortable, shifting in her hard and unyielding gaze. "Well?" I asked finally, unable to really take the critical stare anymore.

Finally, the girl leaned forward, reaching into her green cargo pants pocket, hand curling around something. "I believe almost your entire story," Red said neutrally, and I didn't know whether to feel incredibly relieved, or incredibly disappointed. "The only thing off, the only thing really off, is this."

And the girl raised her hand, and between her thumb and her index finger was the glinting, glimmering, and beautiful icy rock I had found ages ago, way back in the beginning by the pond.

"I knew that would be an important plot-key element later on," I mumbled, staring at it. "Didn't I tell you about it? I thought I mentioned this in my story."

"Oh, you did," Red agreed with a nodding of her head. She tossed it, myself scrambling but was surprisingly able to snatch it with my left hand. "I just don't believe you. Have you been looking for this since you woke up?"

"Yes," I admitted, wrapping my hand around it. "It's something familiar. …Thank you."

"They—" the girl continued, before correcting herself, "they being the very few doctors who Master Hand actually managed to convince to stick around—found it on you when they were fixing you up."

"Thank you," I repeated.

Red gave me a long look. "…you're welcome. I've been studying it. It looks Hylian, as far as I can tell. I've found a few myths on what it might be—and I can only imagine where the heck you found it. Did you steal it from Link? Or Zelda? I wouldn't mind as much if you stole it from Ganondorf—"

"Whoa, wait!" I cried, interrupting, "I didn't steal it!"

"Then where'd you get it?" Red asked, lowering her gaze back towards me.

"I found it."

Red laughed, but it was a completely humorless sound. "No, really," she said, giving me a look. "Where'd you get it?"

"I already told you!" I protested. "When… when I first woke up here… in the middle of the forest on floating island… near a little lagoon… I found it right next to me."

The girl stared at me, shaking her head. "That's—no—do you know what this is?

"No…" I said slowly, really, really wishing I had done some more research. "Should I?"

"This is a… well, the closest translation comes to a 'Chance-Stone,'" Red told me. "It's legend. There have been only five known to be in existence. Very sacred. Very powerful. Very magical—and very Hylian. You were on the floating island of the R.O.B—one of the most technologically advanced creatures in all of Nintendo. Moreover, most of the magic in this stone has already been used up. Do you understand why I'm a bit suspicious here?"

Okay, now that I knew what it was, I could see what she was getting at. "…yes," I admitted.

"And you're still going to stick to your story about just happening to find it?" The girl pressed.

"Everything I told you was true," I insisted, even as ran through my options of breaking past her and to the door or window. "It's hard to believe, I know, and—"

"What's my name?" The girl asked suddenly.

"What?" I broke off, looking over towards her. Red was leaning back in her chair, looking at me with unforgiving eyes and crossed arms.

"What's my name?" she repeated. "If this is all a video-game, then you should know my name."

Crap.

"I, uh," I blanked, scrambling for guesses. How do you go about telling a character—a fiery one, no doubt—that they weren't important or significant enough to be considered a character in a video game?

"Well?" Red asked, lifting one eyebrow. It was very menacing.

"I…" I broke off with a sigh, "…J don't know. You weren't a main character in the game, or a secondary one I remember from all the trophies."

The redhead simply sat for a long moment, staring at me with a completely neutral expression, leaning forward to prop her head on her hands. Her eyes flicked over my face, looking, searching, studying, and finally—

—a laugh. I froze, not quite sure what to do with that as the girl leaned backwards again, an amused smile breaking her face and making her look less like a scary demon ginger with no soul, and more like a twenty-year old, rather nice looking, redhead.

"Um," I said, not quite sure how to respond to that, as the girl cleared her throat, still smiling, and cocking her head at me. "Did I… am I—?"

"You," she said, interjecting and pointing one red-nailed finger at me, "are either the best liar I have ever met, or are telling the truth."

"I'm not a very good liar," I said instantly—and it was true—going with it.

Red tipped her head at me again, but her features were definitely softer. "You fooled Pit for what? A few days?"

"As much as I like the guy," I admitted with a slight wince, "Pit… Pit seems like the type to… not think twice about subtle things."

"Yeah, he's pretty gullible, if that's what you're getting at," Red said with a small smile, saying exactly what word I'd been avoiding in my description. "He's gotten better though, if you'd believe me. He finally stopped falling into the same prank-trap every single time a few weeks ago."

I grinned, easily able to imagine that. Maybe he was a little less of a Mary-Sue than I'd originally thought. "So… you believe me?"

"I'm leaning towards it," the girl admitted. "Very few people have lied to my face and gotten away with it, and Pit is pretty gullible. However, the only real reason I believe you as of right now is because of that."

I looked down at the said Chance-Stone in my hand (what Red was pointing at). "Without that stone," Red continued, "it'd be hard to explain why you've sudden crossed realities. The only thing that could do that is some technology currently out of our reach, and Magic. Really, really strong magic."

"There's no real magic in my world," I told her, tossing the stone up and catching it flat in the palm of my other hand.

The girl shrugged. "How sad for you then."

Wow. Okay. That was suddenly very depressing. I looked down, uncomfortable.

"...Anyways," Red said after a brief moment, obviously sensing the gap. "When we get more together—I'm going to have to talk it over with the Star Fox group and R.O.B.—see what they know what technologically could've caused this. Then I'll drill Zelda and Ganondorf for good measure." She paused, before her eyes softened in the slightest. "Besides. You're just a kid."

"AM NOT," I jerked my head up in sudden irritation, my incentive to remain in the conversation restored. "I am fifteen. Almost sixteen, actually."

"And I am Nineteen," the redhead countered. "Legal Adult in all parts of Nintendo. Therefore, you are a kid."

"Well," I said, giving her an unheated glare of defiance, "who are you anyways, Ms. Legal Adult?"

"They really didn't mention me?" The girl asked, shaking her head. "I'm not surprised—that's another reason why I believe you. You would know my name, not that I'm being arrogant but I am pretty famous here, if you came from this world—but my role in Smash isn't that well known."

"Are you from Melee?" I asked, uncertain. "I knew there was a red-head from Melee, but I thought that was Roy…"

"Figures—" Red scoffed. "They wouldn't mention me."

"Um, no?" I shrugged, half apologetically. "Maybe I haven't unlocked that trophy yet."

"My name is Noel Hoyle," she said simply. "I train the assist pokémon for the brawls."

"Oh," I processed that for a second, before it really sunk in. "Oh! I always wondered about that. I thought maybe… Red?—trained them, but then they wouldn't attack him or his pokémon either."

Noel gave a slow growing smirk, obviously amused. "Red? You mean Charlie?"

"Charlie?" I echoed. "I always wondered what his real name was. They—they as in the Nintendo producing company—never told us. Everyone calls him Red—or the pokémon trainer."

"Nah, his name is Charlie," Noel said with a wave of her hand. Then, as an afterthought, she added (though a bit fondly), "He's an idiot—and a kid. Like you."

I grumbled.

Shortly after, a nurse came in. Apparently, neither the door nor the windows were locked, and I was actually under pretty low surveillance. I didn't know whether to be at ease or insulted. The doctor was nice enough, after telling Noel to leave (who was apparently satisfied with her interrogation). She hooked me up to an IV (they had apparently removed it for the interrogation as not to freak me out too much) with three separate needles that I did not appreciate. The doctor was nice enough, if a little tired looking. She filled me in on my injuries, mostly just deep bruising, small cuts, things that scabbed over or they could easily fix with their high-tech futuristic technology specifically designed for battle wounds—it made a lot of sense, now that I thought about it. The only thing I was going to have to be careful about were Ridley's claw-marks, which were going to leave some faint scarring even if I didn't tear the wounds back open again. I would have to go to her to get new bandages daily, and finish the IV I was currently hooked up to before eating lots and lots of high-calorie food to get me back up to where I was before. That part I wasn't complaining about.

My prescription? Rest. Food. I'd apparently already gotten a blood transfusion, wow, that was a first, so now it was just up to my body to do the rest. Heal. Recover. I had quite a ride, a several new scars to show for it, but, hey, I was alive. Bruce was (apparently) alive. Pit was alive. Heck, even R.O.B. and Noel and her Archie were alive—even if I was still a little uncertain about them.

The doctor left, and, glued to my IV line, I fell asleep waiting for her to fetch my bro.

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

I ended up sleeping for another fourteen hours uninterrupted. Apparently, unconsciousness isn't as restful as actual sleep, and I was pretty bone-deep tired. I woke up alone, the IV line finished and gone, and I slipped out of bed onto barefeet silently.

I opened the door next to the bed to find a small but nice white-tiled bathroom equipped with the normal bathroom necessities. The shower I took probably lasted over a half-an-hour, most of it consisting of myself just sitting under the hot-spray until my skin turned red, savoring the feeling of being warm and clean and relatively healthy. Under the bandages, Ridley's claw-marks left wide scabbed over dark red marks down from near my heart to the lower parts of my stomach where the cuts were the deepest and more noticeable. I winced, trying to ignore them, and was mostly successful due to the fact that they didn't hurt much at all anymore, especially under the spray. Alien idealistic technology. Gotta love it.

I found the drawers and cabinets of the room stocked with clothes, most a too big for me, after drying off. I put some of it on anyways, finding a belt that pulled the jeans tight, and comfortable leather jacket that hid the looseness of the V-neck. The boots fit mostly fine, but, while on the search for socks, I found a drawer with two stacks folded zero-suits side by side—black and gray on top among other colors below. Apparently the light blue one I'd been wearing for the past week and a half was ruined beyond reasonable repair. Not that I wanted it back. I shut the drawer firmly with tight lips, grabbing the socks from the drawer below it. At least now I knew why all the clothes in the room were a few sizes too big.

I opened the door cautiously, just cracking it open to peer outside. The hallway was empty, lacking armed guards or trip-wires that marked my doom, and, after a few seconds, I mustered up my puny courage to step outside in search of solid food.

I got all of about three steps before promptly being tackled by a fluffy yellow fuzzball.

"Bruce!" I cried, too happy and relieved to see him to be irritated at the nice little shock I'd gotten upon his contact with my less protected by the top-of-the-line Kevlar like material of the zero-suit. Yes, in case you were wondering, I had finally figured out why I didn't die when the suit malfunctioned and zapped me when Ridley first attacked.

"Pika-piiiiii!" Bruce cried, scrambling for purchase atop my shoulder, pulling and probably ripping out a few hairs that I had let down.

I pulled him off, spinning around and holding him out in front of me at an arm's length, giving him a long look. "You're okay?" I asked, dead serious.

"Pika," Bruce replied, and I searched my memory to remember which one pika meant and which one chu meant. I couldn't quite remember, but judging by the bright look in his eyes, I assumed it meant yes.

"And they've been treating you okay?" I insisted.

"They've been good to him," Pit said, from behind me. "I've stuck by him and made sure they didn't try to put him in a pokéball or treat him like one of them."

I jumped, whirling around as I pulled Bruce close to my chest. Pit gave me a short grin, a foot or so away, and a slight wave. "How's it going?" He said.

I narrowed my eyes at him, giving him a once over, before looking up to meet his gaze. "You're taller than I remember," I accused.

Pit shrugged sheepishly. "And you're shorter."

It did make sense, in a way. I was by no means short, but the suit added an extra foot to my height. I was a few inches taller than Pit in the suit, and as I only took it off around him once to put on some bandages, I had never had a chance to compare our actual heights. Argh. "I thought… you'd be shorter," I finished lamely. I guess it made sense—the game size proportions of each character were so off at times that it just wasn't natural. I mean Pikachu was half of Samus's height during a Brawl and… my brain can't take it. I guess the game and reality had to meet somewhere in the middle, when Pit only at fourteen in the game was just as tall as Solid Snake or Captain Falcon. It also explained why everyone in this freaking world was so freaking tall. I could only imagine what the actual Cap compared to me in height if he was level with me in the suit.

I almost wanted the armor back.

Almost.

"I thought you'd be taller," Pit admitted, and I rolled my eyes.

"I can still whoop your butt," I said as a matter-of-factly, despite the fact that I could probably do no such thing, glancing down proudly at my bro. "Bruce and I are unstoppable."

"Pika-pika-pikachu," Bruce said, obviously translating to, Ladies, please, you both know I could single-handedly kick both your arses. As no one could speak pokémon, he was steadily ignored.

"Sure you can, Brittney," he said, patting me on the head from his annoying several inches taller. He did have four years of experience on me. "Now, do you want some food or not?"

My eyes flicked to the box in his hand, the smell wafting up even inside the thin white carton. "Is that—?" I started.

"A cheeseburger?" Pit asked, raising an eyebrow, almost teasing. "Why? Do you want it?"

"Give meeeeeeeeeeeee!" I demanded, lunging for the box. Pit moved it easily out of my reach, laughing something about needing to go meet Noel or something I didn't give two cents about, waving for the box futility for a few seconds before dropping back onto my heels, glaring at him so deadly serious it wasn't even funny.

"I will sic Bruce on you."

"Pika-piiiiiii." (she would)

"….cafeteria. There's a briefing you need to attend. There's lots of food there."

"Not even joking. So much pain."

"Pikachu, chu, piiiii." (she's not kidding, bro)

"Cafeteria first."

"I will personally remove both your arms from your body if I do not get this cheeseburger."

"Piii-pika-piii." (I've heard that one before.)

"I promise. There are even fries there."

"…if you lie, I will—"

"—hurt me?"

"Yes. Very much so."

"I have no doubt."

"Pika-pikachu." (Me neither).

"…can I at least eat the burger on the way?"

"You'll inhale it."

"That's the idea."

Laugh. "Okay, fine. You promise not to bolt?"

"As much as I don't like people—how do you even know this about me anyways?—I will attend if there is a cheeseburger or my stomach in my hands upon arrival. Bruce, you walk. I need to eat."

"Pika-pikacu-chu-chu-piii." (I resent this.)

"The remaining psychologists analyzed the video footage from the compound where you retrieved the suit and rescued your brother. They set up a physiological profile on you so that we could have some idea that you weren't crazy or a serial killer. They told me that a bribe would likely be the best way to get you to willingly attend a briefing that contained information on things you wouldn't like. I decided food would be a good choice in bribery."

"Hm. Well. Chick Fil A would've been better, but, for once, the head-doctors know what they're talking about."

"What?"

"Nevermind. Some place on Earth. If you ever come visit, I'll take you."

"Okay."

"Wait, what was this about information I wouldn't like?"

"You'll see. Eat your cheeseburger."

"Hm."

Silence.

"Hey. Pit."

"Yes?"

"Thanks."

D'aw. xD Well, I'd always thought it was so weird that Pikachu and Ness and Lucas were like these huge disproportional creatures with huge heads and bodies way too small and I always laughed seeing them. But then I started thinking about how that would look like in reality-and, you know, the whole barbie analogy on how they wouldn't be even able to exist. So I figured reality had to meet them halfway, and with Pit and Pikachu and just everyone with a general largeness in comparison to the more realistic looking characters would just be really really tall. xD And with Brittney in a suit that (I did some research makes you about a foot taller, the sudden difference would've been really real when she finally came out of the suit.

Just a thought. xD

Next chapter I'll put up tomorrow! :3 We get to see more of R.O.B. as well as the first appearance of the ever mysterious Master Hand. :3

UP AND COMING?! "…congratulations," I told him, and my voice did not crack. "You've looked past all my crap and found a coward."

*salutes*

-Fleet