Two Against the World

Val smiled up at his guest, doing pull-ups on the exercise bar in the gym. His eyes were closed, breath puffing from his mouth each time he raised himself up. Sweat dripped off his flushed face and soaked his white gloves. Still, he kept willing his body up and over that exercise bar. Anything to keep the thoughts away.

"I take it my gym is to your liking?" Val asked after a while.

"It is," said Luigi without stopping. He hit his 300th pull-up, followed by his 301st.

"You know, you're really good," said Val. "What's your secret?"

"The usual. Eat your vegetables. Especially mushrooms. Lots of them." His arms began to quiver, and he grunted softly with every breath, yet he pressed on. Tiny rivulets of perspiration trailed down his body and landed with soft splats on the floor.

"Yeah. Mushrooms do you a lot of good on your adventures," laughed Val. "Mind if I have a turn on that?"

"Sure." Luigi dropped down after his 320th pull-up. Not quite his personal best. As Val began hoisting himself up and down, Luigi hit the treadmill at a full sprint. His shoes pounded against the sturdy belt of the machine as he sought to burn off the slight disappointment from the pull-ups. The cord connecting his earbuds to his iPhone bounced and swayed as he sprinted. Over his tunes, he could hear Val huffing as he cranked his body up and down. Luigi just shut him out and paid full attention to nothing but his own body, imagining that he was sprinting down a route of variable incline or going through one of the "worlds" during a typical rescue mission, minus the blocks, bricks, crevices he had to jump over and enemies he had to jump on. He had to feel something over the speed he was going. Not only could he jump higher, but also he was faster than Mario. Enough to overlook his worse traction.

He and Val had been living together for almost a week, and Luigi had to admit that he was being spoiled a bit. Val wasn't like Evan at all. Yes, Evan was a good roommate, but with him, he didn't have a separate room with his own TV. He didn't have a special "doggy den" for his Polterpup. There were no midnight snacks specially delivered to them. Okay, Evan also had the nights of staying up late and playing Mad Libs and other games, but he didn't have the private gym they visited every morning. Val took Luigi to the best eateries in L.A. and familiarized him with all of the hot spots and places for people who needed to keep a low profile. There were walks and jogs in parks. Quiet afternoons of fishing. Staying and playing at arcades till they closed. Bonding moments at the Santa Monica Pier. Discovering that Val wasn't stiff and all-business, like most P.I.'s. Glimpsing through that exterior and seeing an ordinary, die-hard Luigi fan who experienced a stroke of good luck. He was a confirmed bachelor, not looking for love but willing to seize the opportunity when it arose.

The week hadn't entirely gone to waste. Val and Luigi had spent their time together formulating a plan, an offensive against the haters in the City of Angels. Once their plan was set into motion, those bullies would be running for the hills—what was left of them, that is. Just a passing thought of what they had in store for those fools was enough to make Luigi's pulse react. He used to be the weak one, but with Val by his side, he'd have power over them. And they were going to wish they were never born.

Even now, sprinting as fast as he could, eyes staring fixedly out the window, Luigi felt the anticipation burning through him like fire. His heartbeat sounded like tam-tams going off inside his chest, he was absolutely breathless and his legs were screaming at him to quit, yet he continued to lunge into his imagined race, too wired to stop. There was so much juice in him that he felt like he could go on for hours. Yet he couldn't. He and Val had an agenda, and they were going to stick to it.

He noticed Val jump down from the pull-up bar, grab his hand wraps and stride over his punching bag, deftly wrapping his hands before releasing his own anticipation. Luigi closed his eyes and let the persistent beat of punches take him over, grabbing the handrails on the treadmill and increasing the incline to further challenge himself. He kept his focus on the fireworks going off inside of him, his music and the thick sweat beneath his clothes as long as he could, and when he could no longer ignore the aches and the breathlessness, he slowed to a mild run, decreasing the incline a bit.

It was at this time that Luigi began to notice things about his surroundings again. He could see the smog-smeared sunrise and smell his essence mingling with his host's. The other workout machines were arranged into neat rows, as were the weights, arranged in increasing difficulty. He saw Val, laying into his punching bag, glittering with perspiration, and felt a mild pang of jealousy. At least he bested him in the gym that day.

Some of his breath back, Luigi cranked the intensity back up until he just couldn't take it anymore.

By the time he slowed to a jog, Val was reaching the apex of his own workout, looking like Little Mac with those rapid punches. Luigi grabbed his water bottle and took a deep swig before slowing once more to a brisk walk. He could think clearly again, the intense workout having untangled his emotions. The anticipation was still there, but his mind had it firmly contained. He couldn't just burst in there like they did in the movies. Sure, he wanted to take the haters down, but he also wanted to stay alive to see the end result.

One last time, he slowed to a leisurely walk. Breath now under control, the muscles in his legs recovering. After a minute, he stopped the treadmill, jumped off and plopped onto a bench to rest, knocking back half of his water and watching Val wind down himself.

At last, Val stepped away from the punching bag and walked toward his guest.

"You want a turn on that?" he offered.

"I think I have a better idea," winked Luigi.

Val's eyes flashed. "You're on," he said.

Quickly, the two men found a nice, open spot in the personal gym, and Luigi hooked up his iPhone to the loudspeakers. For the next two hours or so, they were in beast mode, fists going strong at bodies and faces as they got the last of whatever was plaguing them out of their systems.

In the end, Val bested Luigi, but it didn't matter. What mattered was the serenity they shared in the afterglow of their sparring session.

"You know something?" Luigi asked him.

"What?"

"Given what's happened, I figured that you were in need of comfort," said Luigi, "but from the moment you took me in, it seems that I'm more in need of comfort than you."

Val jerked a nod. "You looked like you needed someone to lean on," he said, "so I guess it is a matter of me comforting you instead of vice versa."

"I just want to take the time to appreciate you doing all of this for me, Val," Luigi said softly.

"Of course," smiled Val. "It's my duty. Now, are you ready to get a jump on the day? I have some Krispy Kremes in the fridge."

"Thanks, buddy," said Luigi.

LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

They rocketed down the highway together, wind blowing in their faces and fanning their hair, searching for clues, listening to tunes and dropping off postcards to loved ones. They especially made good use of trips to gas stations and mini marts, asking tourists and employees for anything "weird" that might had happened. There was the daily vigil at the Santa Monica Pier, running across and exchanging pleasantries and intel with other Luigi fans. They traversed together down the Hollywood Walk of Fame, posed for selfies at the Hollywood sign and shopped at all of the good malls. Continuing their ride, they talked and they talked, discovering each other's secrets like a pair of young kids. By now, they weren't interacting as just idol and fan, but as people, complete with naked vulnerabilities.

When you are happy with laughter to spare,
Fun is twice as fun with someone to share.
When you are lonely and full of despair
Things aren't half as bad when somebody cares.

Maybe now you have figured it out,
That's what bein' a friend is about.

When you're lookin' for a shoulder you can cry on,

(Won't you think about me?)

When you're lookin' for someone you can rely on,
(Don't you ever doubt me!)

I'll be there someway somehow,
That's what bein' friends is about!

When you grow restless and want room to breathe,
I will give you all the space that you need.
And when you're ready for my company,
I will come around, just call on me.

Maybe now you have figured it out,
That's what bein' a friend is about.

When you need someone who feels the way you do,
(Won't you think about me?)
Someone who can pick you up when you are blue,
(Don't you ever doubt me!)

I'll be there someway somehow,
That's what bein' friends is about!

I'm your friend, till the end
Count on me.

In the sunshine and the rain,
Paradise and back again.

Count on me.

Let me be a friend in need,
Let me be a friend indeed.

Count on me.

And if you ask me, you know that it's true;
There is not a thing that I will not do!
I'll follow you to the ends of the earth,
That's how much I think our friendship is worth!

Maybe now you have figured it out,
That's what bein' a friend is about.

When there's something that you just don't understand,
(Won't you think about me?)
I'll be more than glad to lend a helping hand.
(Don't you ever doubt me!)

I'll be there someway, somehow,
That's what bein friends is about! (x2)

(Tell me all your secrets)
I will swear to keep them

(Let me know your problems)
I will help you solve them.

(When your heart is aching)
I will stop it breaking.

(When you are in danger)
I am your guardian angel.

(I will stand beside you)
Be the one to guide you.

(When your dreams are crumblin')
Call me, I'll come runnin'.

That's what friends are all about!

It was late in the afternoon when the real business began. The duo had eaten lunch about three hours prior and was cruising down a two-lane highway. Suddenly, Luigi noticed something which caused him to pull over to the side and cut the engine.

"What is it?" questioned Val as he and Luigi got out of the car.

They were in a slightly wooded area with trees scattered this way and that. It was one particular tree which arrested the man in green's attention. When Val saw it, he guessed everything. And even if he didn't, the lingering smell of soot was confirmation enough.

Luigi examined the burned heap at the base of the tree, a rope still tied around it. The top part of it was still tied to a tree branch. A few ashes dusted the ground. And when Luigi placed his hand on the charred remains, he discovered that they were still warm.

"An effigy burning took place here," Luigi said after a while. "We must be close."

"There's probably going to be another one tonight," added Val. "We'll spy on them there and then tail them to one of their outings."

"Do you have some clue where?" asked Luigi.

Val pulled out his map and a pen. "Here," he said, dotting the indicated region. "Near the area is a nightclub, and one of their frequent hangouts, as well. We intercept that gathering, and they're ours."

Luigi stroked the burnt doll's face with his thumb. He looked at Val, and the P.I read no hope for whatever bully they encountered tonight. "Can't we hide out at the burning site and then surprise them?" he queried.

Val shook his head. "We need to observe who we're up against, and the burning, when they're distracted, is our opportunity to do so," he said.

Luigi clucked his tongue. "You're right," he said finally. A thorough evaluation of the enemy was key to formulating an effective plan of attack.

"Don't worry," Val assured him. "This is going to end soon. All of it."

He put his arm around the plumber, who leaned into the embrace.

They headed back to the car and kept driving, but the atmosphere was a tad subdued as they realized that this wasn't going to stop unless they did something.

Eventually, they arrived at a hilly part of town, close to the spot Val had indicated. There was a gas station, where they refueled, as well as a decent motel, where they checked into a room with two beds. Luckily, both had packed an overnight bag each for this situation.

"It's not much," said Luigi as they took the room in, "but it's cheap, it's clean, and it's all ours."

"Amen to that," said Val.

"When do you think they'll gather?" asked Luigi.

"At sundown," postulated Val. "I've been to several of them, remember?"

"That gives us enough time to decompress," said Luigi, checking his watch.

The area they were in also sported a restaurant and a shopping center. First off, Luigi and Val readied themselves for the night ahead with a lovely dinner at the restaurant, followed by a tour of the shopping center. The motel room had a small gym, but the duo grew bored of it after thirty minutes. So, they located an open field close to the motel and went a few more rounds to dispel the jitters.

"It's time," Luigi said as he observed the sun beginning its descent. "Let's-a go."

LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

Deeper in the hill country, far from any public service, stood a large tree. This tree had a wide trunk, firm, fanning branches and thick, dark green leaves. As the last of the sun receded into the horizon, its hulking form was nothing but a dark silhouette. In other words, it was the perfect tree for the occasion.

Presently, the area encompassing the tree was filling with men. Men wearing work shirts, men wearing shirtsleeves, men wearing tube tops, men wearing muscle shirts, men wearing jeans, men wearing shorts, sneakers and sandals and men wearing no shirts at all. Most of them were carrying something. Cases of beer, ropes, a bullhorn, matches, gasoline and a big, plastic bag. The group yelled and hooted in greeting, primed for the night's events. Afterward, they'd all gather at their favorite bar to celebrate. It wasn't their first effigy burning—but for many of them, it would be their last.

On top of a sturdy crate stood the ringleader, Tristan Manning, the best friend of the late, not-so-lamented Stuart Bennigan. Tristan was none-too-happy that someone long-known as a coward whipped his friend's butt, and he was on a mission to appease Stuart's spirit by destroying the plumber, bit by bit. He'd risen through the ranks as soon as Daisy had been announced as a candidate for the Smash Ballot, using his shrewdness and tactical skills which would rival Robin and Reflet. He understood that if he really wanted to get under Luigi's skin, then it was best to go the Daisy route. And he had. Each post, hate-mail, plushie burned and person harassed gave him a tremendous rush, similar to the rush he was feeling now.

Tristan watched as more men crowded around the tree, shaking hands and patting shoulders and backs in greeting. With a gesture, he signaled the man lugging the large plastic bag. That man took his place to Tristan's left.

Now, there were men with flashlights, cutting through the now pitch-black night. Someone was even thoughtful enough to bring a portable CD player with a large folder full of CDs. Restless gatherers began dancing to the music, and the first cases of beer were opening. Nothing but a party here.

Except for two.

Protected by the darkness and some bushes, Val and Luigi lay on their stomachs, propped up by their elbows, smelling like bug repellant and primal anticipation. Both were armed with a pair of binoculars, allowing them an in-depth glimpse of the goings-on despite their covert position. In this way, Luigi promptly identified and located the ringleader of the whole affair.

"If it isn't Stuart's best friend," he murmured.

"Stuart?" whispered Val. "You mean that guy who…?"

"Yes," Luigi cut him off. Val understood that this was a subject he'd rather avoid.

"Hey, look at the guy standing next to him," said Val. "What's he got in that bag?"

"Part of me doesn't want to know," shuddered Luigi.

"Hopefully, this won't take long," Val said to him, "and once they're finished, we'll wait till they cleared out and tail them to the bar."

"Good plan," smiled Luigi. "Simple and easy to remember."

Then, the pair went back to their silent observation.

A man with a rope now flanked Tristan on the right. The ringleader himself blew into a vuvuzela, and then there was silence.

"Welcome, welcome," said Tristan, in a voice which rang with authority. "Are you all ready to light this place up or what?"

A few guys shouted, "Yeah!"

"I said, are you ready to light this place up tonight, or what?"

"Yeah!" screamed everyone else.

"It's time to remind a certain plumber and his princess of their place!" thundered Tristan. "Sorry to burst their bubble, but the world as they know it ends tonight, and I'm not about to let their puny cheerleaders decide what comes next! Are you?"

"No!"

"The fires we burn are calling to us! The unquestionable symbol of our outrage since the beginning of this nonsense! That plumber is using his influences and the authority of his girlfriend as muscle against us, and we're left there helpless! Well, what are we going to do about it—just sit there?! Of course not! Who told them they could traipse around these games anytime it suited them? What good are they in royal duties and rescue missions? Why don't they just stick with sports, karts, toilets and sinks?"

The crowd roared.

"After a long period of enduring hissy-fit after hissy-fit from these two, the resistance has begun to act! There comes a time when the operation of the machine becomes so odious, that we all must put our bodies upon the gears and the wheels, and make it stop!"

The men cheered.

"And now, without further ado, let us consecrate the message that we are fed up, for all to see!"

Tristan turned to the bag man. "If you would be so kind," he said.

The man reached into his bag, pulled out a life-sized Daisy plushie, and held it before the gatherers, who hooted drunkenly. Then, he reached again into his bag, this time extracting a life-sized Luigi plushie and repeating what he'd done with the Daisy plushie. Both dolls were relatively untouched, which could be a good thing—or a bad thing.

"Look at them—so cute together," snickered Tristan. "What do you say we give them the couples treatment tonight, eh?"

Whoops of agreement.

The rope guy moved in then, tying the two plushies together as two of his pals helped him. While this was going on, the others armed themselves with baseball bats, sticks, golf clubs, clubs, crowbars and other types of battering weapons. They arranged themselves into a big circle around the two bound dolls, and the rope guy and his buddies joined in shortly thereafter.

"Before we do that, though," said Tristan. "What do you say we soften them up a bit?"

"Yeah!"

As Tristan led the way, the mob of people descended upon the two plushies and began to sadistically set upon them. Those who didn't have weapons simply used their fists or feet. The dolls were lost in the sea of unruly men, beating them, destroying them, defiling them. Coarse laughter, taunts and curses filled the air. One of them began grinding against one of the dolls—it was hard to tell which one at this point. Another was hacking off the "hair" of the Daisy plushie with a butcher knife. Pieces of fabric and stuffing were tossed into the air, people running about waving handfuls of it into the air.

When some began loosening their belts and unzipping their pants, Val reached over to cover Luigi's eyes, but the plumber brushed his hand away. He'd seen this once before, hiding in the shadows and waiting to pounce upon Budd. He could handle it. He was a strong man who fought ghosts and big reptiles and performed admirably in kart racing and sports tournaments. He lived through the Chaos Heart business. He survived Tabuu. So he could certainly weather this, the sight of these filthy men having their "fun" with these poor dolls before torching them.

Finally, Tristan raised an arm and commanded, "Enough."

Obediently, the guys fell back from the two plushies.

"We need to save some of them for the flames, yes?"

Heads nodded in agreement.

By now, Val's right hand had gone to sleep, Luigi was squeezing it so hard.

The bullies now dragged what was left of the two plushies to the tree. More rope was produced, and soon, the remains of the dolls were swaying from one of the thick branches.

Tristan took a can of gasoline from one man and began pouring it all over the dolls. He didn't stop until they were completely drenched and dripping. Finally, he lit a match and held it aloft.

"Let this be a reminder to you, Los Angeles!" he cried. "This is what we think of these two being in any game!"

And with that, he lit the two plushies on fire, the flames slithering and licking up the kerosene-soaked fabric until it all became a dangling pyre. Below, the men whooped, gulped down more beer and danced like fanatics around their effigy, shouting curses about Daisy, Luigi and all of their fans. A red-orange glow briefly lit up the area around the huge tree. So intense was the heat that the two spies began to sweat. They forced themselves to watch as the searing flames ate up the fabric and the stuffing, all of it grotesquely peeling and melting away. The smell was not very pleasant.

When the flames began to die down, Tristan ordered two men to douse the effigy with fire extinguishers, putting the fire out. Everyone cleaned up the worst of the mess, hiding the evidence, and then cut down the ash and soot-ridden remains of the two plushies. High-fives were exchanged, and then the group split, headed to a celebratory romp—and ultimately, to their deaths.

Once the last person had gone, Luigi and Val slowly came out of hiding, shaking and endeavoring to process what they saw.

"Monsters," gasped Luigi. "Those monsters!"

It wasn't just the heat from the fire that made him sweat. It was the brazen disrespect unfolding before his eyes and their shameless enjoyment of it. Seeing it up close was different from seeing pictures of it. He staggered back to their bush and heaved.

Once his vileness had been emptied, he and Val made their way back to their car, the P.I.'s hand on the small of Luigi's back the entire time.

"Can you drive?" asked Val.

"Yeah," said Luigi.

They climbed inside and took off in pursuit of Tristan and his men.

LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

After changing their smoky-smelling clothing, Tristan and his men were having a ball at a local nightclub, slugging back drinks other than beer, telling stories and jokes and discussing other plans. Tristan just so happened to be the owner of that club, and he was hosting a private party, which meant that it was strictly an invitation-only affair. What he didn't know was that two of his guests weren't actually guests at all.

The dance floor was crowded with patrons dancing and shimmying to the beat. Tristan sat in a private room on the top floor, flanked by his best guys, watching the revelry below. As uneasiness began to stir in his chest, he sent a man to do a security sweep of the property. The sweep came up clean, which did nothing to allay the roiling waves of dread settling inside him. In his usual way, however, he did his best to just shrug it all off and enjoy the night.

However, danger was closer to him than he thought. And the source of that danger presently sat at the counter, one of them downing a Poppin' Purple Tanqueray, the other downing a club soda.

"L, you know you can't drive afterwards," warned the one with the club soda.

"Don't worry; I'll give you the keys," the other assured him.

"Just stick to the plan, all right?"

Luigi just smiled. And as long as Valentine "Val" O'Halloran lived, he would never, ever forget that smile.

Later, the two slipped to the men's room and shed their disguises.

"You know, I really think you should let me handle them," Val said nervously. "I'll have them on vandalism and trespassing charges."

"You don't know Tristan like I do," Luigi told him. "I'll bet he has some hotshot legal team ready to bail him out."

"L, no sweat. I'll go and report this in, and boom. We won't have to worry about them anymore."

"No, we won't," Luigi said, emotionlessly.

"Well, what do you have in mind?" challenged Val.

Luigi turned and looked at him. "You've been very helpful," he said, "but I think it's time you rest awhile."

"I'm not leaving you alone in here," objected Val. "If they find out…"

"I'm a Smasher, remember? I can take care of myself," winked Luigi.

"L, I'm having a bad feeling about this," said Val.

"I saw a back door to this place. You can leave through there." And Val could tell by the tone of his companion's voice that this was far from a request—it was an order.

Then, his face rested against Luigi's shoulder, arms encircling his back. "In case I don't make it out of this, I want you to know how wonderful you've been," Luigi whispered. "I want you to live your life and look out for the other fans I have. And I have been blessed to live under your roof, if only for a short time."

He released his hold and added, "Should something happen to me tonight, tell Mario, Peach, Daisy, Yoshi and Rosalina that I loved them. And tell Master Hand—I'm sorry."

Val understood that there would be no more arguing over the matter.

"Our destinies have been entwined, Val," concluded Luigi, "but never joined."

He leaned in and kissed Val on the cheek. "Go. Hurry," he commanded.

Reluctantly, Val turned and headed for the door.

"And Val?"

"Yes?"

"Even if I'm jumped, don't come back for me."

"L, this is crazy…!"

"Do. Not. Come. Back. For. Me."

Val swallowed. "Okay."

Luigi watched him slip out the back door and into the night, allowing himself a misty-eyed smile.

That smile was quickly replaced by cold fury and hate as he prepared to make his grand entrance.

LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

Meanwhile, Tristan was still in his private room, playing darts, as the men around him drunkenly talked about doing shots off of a certain princess. Below them, the revelry was still in full swing, men dancing, jumping on countertops and about to get rowdy—that is, until security stepped in. Everything was just fine.

And then it wasn't.

For at that very moment, a familiar voice boomed over the general sounds of celebration:

"Tristan Manning! You and I have unfinished business!"

That doesn't sound good!

I don't own "Bein' Friends".