He had fought a true nightmare before. He had fought an eyeball that had exploded in a collision of blood. But Kirby wasn't ready for this. His former friend, who had crashed into Nova, had regained his wings through a sickening process of what seemed and looked like zombification.

He first seemed to hang in space, eyes disorientated and lost, as if he were blinded by Nova's light. Then Nova's pieces drifted towards him, forming what looked like arms.

'VeNgEaNcE iS wHaT yOu WaNt,' his pieces seemed to whisper. 'KiRbY wIlL nEvEr UnDeRsTaNd YoU. He WilL hUrT yOu LiKe ThOsE fRoM tHe UnSeEn WoRlD. HE wIlL bEtRaY yOu LiKe AlL tHe OtHeRs. Do YoU wAnT tO bE hUrT aGaIn?"

Marx screamed an indistinct answer. Kirby wanted to respond angrily, saying he would never hurt him, but his words were drowned out by his scream. His scream soon turned into blood-chilling, insane laughter, and before his very eyes, the jester transformed into a shadow of his living self.

He seemed darker, almost blue, his tongue sticking uncomfortably out. His eyes seemed to pierce through space, as if staring straight into Kirby's soul.

"I'LL KILL YOU!" he had shrieked over and over again, smashing and swinging his wings around wildly, barely missing Kirby by inches. Kirby jumped back and grimaced. His voice was distorted and raspy, and he sounded as if he were put together by a thread, but his swinging was dangerously accurate and speedy. He finally managed to smash Kirby into the ground and grab him with his now-triple claws, kicking him in the gut thrice and sending him flying straight to the ground.

Kirby landed with a loud thud, but shakily got up, the star-streaked road making him dizzy. When his head finally cleared, he stared up at Marx and shivered. Just staring at Marx's revenge-filled eyes was enough to make him freeze with horror, making him think over and over again, 'What have I done to my friend?'

No. Not Marx's eyes. As Kirby's eyes adjusted even more to the crazy pattern of lights coming from the ground, and Marx had stopped wildly swinging around, Kirby clearly saw some sort of shadow controlling his movement, as if he were a puppet come back to life-in which he probably was. But one thing was clear. He wasn't alone. That much hate couldn't radiate out of one person. But as Kirby stared, he couldn't see one sign of human emotion in him.

"WHY DO YOU HATE ME?!" Marx shrieked, his voice slurred because of his hanging tongue, sending paintballs flying all over the place, not directly coming from him. "WHY DO YOU ALL HATE ME, DAMMIT?! I NEVER DID ANYTHING TO YOU! IT ISN'T MY FREAKING FAULT THAT I HAVE NO ARMS OR LOOK LIKE A FREAK!"

The paintballs now redirected themselves, pointed at Kirby. They seemed to form drills in midair, and at the last second, Kirby leaped out of the way, the paintballs continuously smashing the floor until they had all disappeared, their multicolored remains splattered all around him.

"Marpoyo!" Kirby yelled desperately. "MARPOYO!" He seemed to be trying to form words without the continuous 'poyo' he always said, but was failing to do so.

"WHAT?!" shrieked Marx in reply, his face having a hint of annoyance. "WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO SAY?!"

"Marx, you promised me! We were friends!" The words came out so quickly, even Kirby had to pause for a while to comprehend it, and even afterwards, he was shell shocked. He had SPOKEN. It had happened before when he had desperately tried to talk Zero out of his plans, but not this suddenly.

Marx was even more surprised. He seemed to snap out of his zombie trance for a second, staring intently at the puffball. His eyes seemed to zone back, and he became aware of the uncomfortable angle his tongue, which he couldn't move, was in. He looked around in a fright, his blue and red eyes wide, his lip quivering, as if he were about to cry. He, too, seemed to be trying to say something, which turned into a number of gags and hisses because of his weak, hanging tongue. But his expression once again darkened, and he howled with laughter, pelting Kirby with paintballs.

Kirby inhaled them all, determined to get his friend back, but spat them back out. They were like acid, but a million times worse. Acid and Waddle Dee. He could never eat them, and acid sometimes burned his tongue. They were just like these two. But worse. Marx seemed amused by the attempt to inhale his paintballs. He licked his lip in an attempt to talk more, but only ended with him grimacing in pain.

"Hurtpoyo?" Kirby couldn't help but ask. Marx laughed, almost taunting the puff. His tongue seemed to be completely numb now, painfully, but it couldn't stifle his insane, wild laughter.

"Stopoyo!" Kirby yelled desperately, lunging forward with his sharp boomerang drawn. Marx didn't move, unexpectedly, as if deciding whether to finish Kirby off or not. However, he didn't manage to make the decision before the boomerang plunged into his stomach. Marx shrieked, drawing his tongue in his mouth and letting his wings droop, hanging from the blade as blood dripped from his wound. Kirby himself yelped in dismay and dropped the blade, looking at his arm stumps in horror. Marx, instead of laughing at his reaction, fell, writhing on the floor.

"IT HURTS!" he shrilled, able to talk again. "IT HURTS SO MUCH!"

He began hacking blood on the floor, his back to Kirby. Kirby squeezed his eyes shut, covering them with his hands, but...

"Ha... HA HA... AHAHAHAA! HOUHOUHAHAHA! HEEHEEHEEHEE!"

Kirby screamed and jumped back as Marx got up shakily, eyes bulging more than ever. His mouth was outlined with blood, but his wound mended itself until it was completely gone.

"JUST KIDDING!" he screamed cheerfully. "I'M ALREADY DEAD YOU BUFFOON! YOU CAN'T LAY A FINGER ON ME!"

Kirby stepped back in shock and revulsion, his eyes never leaving where the wound had been. It had reformed- no, MELTED back into place. Marx himself seemed to be made of paint and blood. This caused Kirby to shake even more uncontrollably, but instead of laughing, Marx smiled, his tongue still back in place, allowing him to talk. But Kirby would've preferred for him to have stayed mute after he had to hear what the jester said next.

"KIRBY, DON'T YOU GET IT?" shrilled Marx, unable to control his volume. "I HATE YOU! YOU DON'T HAVE TO HOLD BACK. HURT ME SOME MORE! I DARE YOU!"

Kirby froze as he remembered the word 'hate.' It hadn't seemed to effect him before, but niw he remembered it clearly. Gooey. Zero. Eyes, everywhere, watching them.

'Pain,' they had hissed from around their superior. 'All we know is pain. Why are you keeping us from our happiness...?'

Kirby had blocked the voices out in desperation, clinging to his head. What WERE these things? They were evil, but why did they keep begging for happiness? Was it some kind of taunt? He hadn't ever seen anyone without any happiness. When his head had cleared, he saw Gooey, uneffected from the raspy whispers, look up at Zero.

"Papa," he had murmured, eyes lowered. There was a smile on his face, but it was lacking the usual happiness and perkiness it had. The eyeball squinted at him, almost enraged, angered... disapproving.

"Persona non grata," the eyeball had replied in a monotone voice. Gooey had winced, and Kirby had known why. 'Persona non grata' had meant to be unwelcome, to be ostracized for eternity. Fumu had taught him it when she had shrieked it at Dedede for reasons unknown to Kirby. But Gooey had quickly covered his emotional pain with a saying that shocked Kirby: "Love and hate are two sides of the same coin. The more you hate someone, the more you can love them in turn."

The eyeball had made a hiss, and Kirby had realized in a while that he was sighing with stress.

"Using my own words against me- probably the only smart thing you've done your whole life."

Gooey had frowned, and Kirby had grimaced. A frown did NOT fit the cute blob. His whole face darkened and he looked just like a Dark Matter with two eyes. And Kirby had hated.

Staring back at Marx scream- laughing, he realized what Gooey's words had meant. It was an eery message, but Kirby soon nodded to himself hesitantly, deciding it was the only way. He had gone up against a paint demon beast, one that came AFTER Nightmare's defeat. The only way he had defeated was...

Kirby straightened up. He threw away his cutter ability and desperately looked around to see any way to improvise, dodging paintballs that rained from the sky and vines that came from the ground. Marx screamed with frustration, vanishing. Kirby stopped in alarm to see where he had gone, until he reappeared right next to him, and flung his mouth open. Kirby was suddenly blasted away with a searing hot light, and smashed into the ground. He whimpered, staying limp for a moment, before getting up, eyes evidently showing his exhaustion.

But as soon as he gave up hope, he saw the object he was looking for. There. Right where Fumu left it.

Dedede's mallet.

He scrambled up and, with all the strength he had left, inhaled the hammer, instantly turning into hammer Kirby. Marx scoffed at the transformation, then cackled.

As he split into two.

Kirby was frozen for one blood-chilling moment as he saw his friend continue cackling, his mind completely gone insane. The space between his two halves turned into some kind of vortex, and before he knew it, he was running away for dear life as a black hole inhaled everything around him, almost snagging his hammer as well. Finally, Marx, eyes outlined with black circles, gave up, panting. He seemed to hang in the air for a minute or two, then finally lowered his head. It had exhausted him.

Now.

Kirby hoisted his hammer and ran towards the nauseous Marx, half of him pulling himself back. 'Don't do it!' Kirby was thirty yards away... 'Marx was your friend!' Twenty yards... 'He trusted you!' Ten yards... 'NO!' Five yards... 'Stop it, idiot!' One yard... 'Please...no...' Hardly a few feet away... He jumped...

"MARX!"

Kirby's scream caught the jester's attention, just before he dealt the blow. So many emotions passed through his face- anguish, a sense of betrayal, sadness, anger... He could've killed Kirby. One swift flick from either of his wings could've murdered him. But something made him hesitate. Was it his friendship? Or was he just too shocked to do anything? But because of either, Kirby dealt the finishing blow, landing right behind Marx.

His attack gave off a reaction he didn't expect. Marx hovered in the air for a minute, silent, his back to him. Then slowly, weakly, he turned to Kirby. Kirby caught his breath to keep from crying as Marx smiled his old smile, his old features gone. Kirby felt like he could just walk up to the jester and hug him. Then he remembered his phobia and stopped himself.

"Marx?"

Marx laughed happily, his eyes not the 'staring-into-your-soul' eyes. Kirby was thankful. He hated those eyes.

"Hey... hey... hey..." he said dizzily. "Friends... for...ev...er... ri...ght...?"

Kirby was happily about to answer and embrace the jester, but suddenly, Marx's eyes snapped open.

"You... be...trayed... me... be...cause...you...wan...ted... to...save...ev...ery...one...right...?"

Kirby gulped and nodded, eyes filled with sadness. Marx's eyes grew foggy.

"Then... how... come... you...did...n't...sa...ve...me...?"

Suddenly, his skin seemed to crack open from the middle, and he split in half, eyes wide.

"SCREEEEEEEEEEE!" he screamed as he split in two.

Kirby shrieked as he hid his eyes, sobbing. No... it couldn't be... no...

But as he watched, Marx's two halves dissolved into nothing, his tears being the last thing to vanish.

It was a long time afterwards until Marx's scream completely vanished from the universe, never to be heard again.