T Plus 28 Days

There is some disturbing content in this chapter. You have been warned!

Bentley Ellis sat in the office where his interview would be conducted, twiddling his thumbs. He was attired in a navy suit and tie, his reddish-brown hair elegantly slicked back. Most, if not all, of the bruises had faded from his face, and he looked less worn out. If Master Hand was willing to listen to what he had to say, then surely, his life wasn't completely over, right? But don't call him Shirley.

His thoughts were interrupted when the door swung open, and a man in red walked in, followed by a man in green. Bentley stiffened. He knew of these men—they were the famous Super Mario Brothers. And the man in green—Luis? Langley? Landon?—was romantically involved with Princess Daisy. He could only pray that the green-clad one would hear him out.

"Morning, Bentley," the one the mole knew as Mario greeted, holding up a bag full of restaurant takeout. "I brought us some breakfast."

"Thank you, Mario," said Bentley.

Mario took out one of the takeout boxes, opened it, and set it before Bentley, following up with plastic cutlery. Bentley inhaled the smell of the omelet and hash browns before digging in.

The Bros sat across from Bentley, getting themselves situated with their own food.

"Wait a minute," said Bentley, his mouth full of food. "Where's Master Hand?"

"He'll be with us soon," said Mario. "In the meantime, I hope the three of us can get acquainted with one another."

"Hm," said Bentley. "There's so much to tell."

"Yeah. There is," smiled Mario. "These past few weeks have been unkind to you, haven't they?"

"A little bit," said Bentley.

"Constantly looking over your shoulder, hoping that someone doesn't find you out, worrying over what would be done to you if your cover is blown," Mario went on. "It takes steely nerves and a lot of b—ls to be a mole."

"You got that right," said Bentley.

"Could you—could you tell us how you came to be a mole in Princess Daisy's court?" asked Mario.

Bentley glanced at the man in green, who hadn't spoken throughout this conversation. He was methodically chewing his food, his eyes fixed on his takeout box. It was as if Bentley wasn't there at all.

"It was—shortly after the update patch was released," Bentley began. "Before then, I was helping Mr. Sakurai with his work. Normal day, normal life. Then, Crazy Hand approached me with the job. He told me he had his suspicions about one of the Project Nerf conspirators—Chaz or something like that."

"Chad," Mario corrected. "Chad Wrainwright."

"Crazy Hand told me that Mr. Wrainwright had bailed on the project after only a few days," Bentley continued, "but even so, CH had proof that he'd been attached to that scheme, and he used that proof to ensnare him in another project involving the Smash Ballot—Operation Ballot Box. Mr. S had planned to be in on it, as well. They were taking a break as a 'reward', but they'd planned to get things rolling sometime next month."

"Mr. S was willing to turn a blind eye to ballot tampering," said Mario. "Why?"

"I'd say—out of spite. Mr. S harbors resentment against your brother due to the losses he suffered from that 30th anniversary celebration," Bentley explained. "He wants revenge, so to speak. So, he took part in the plot to have your brother's down throw nerfed, and he plans to make sure that Daisy never makes it into Smash by having us inflate the vote counts for more popular Smash Ballot candidates."

"Was that why he had you become a mole in Princess Daisy's court?" asked Mario. "To sabotage her campaigns to get into the tournament from the inside?"

Bentley heaved a sigh. "That was—part of the reason why," he said. "The other reason why was because he had his suspicions regarding Mr. Wrainwright, that he would somehow—break out from under his thumb. The fellow had already made it clear that he'd rebel against Crazy Hand the first chance he got. Then, one night, he called me and told me that he overheard Mr. Wrainwright whispering to your brother that he'd meet the two of you in a secret location and tell you everything."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the green-clad brother stiffen.

"He knew that Sarasaland would be Mr. Wrainwright's first choice for a venue, and he told me to keep my eyes peeled for information on this meeting. To accomplish this, I gained enough of Daisy's trust to be made one of her bodyguards, so that I wouldn't leave her side for a moment. And the rest—as they say—is history. I listened in on Mr. Wrainwright and his companion hammering out the details with Daisy and found out the venue's exact location. Unfortunately, I was unable to pass this information to Crazy Hand in time because not only was security tight that day, but also I was beginning to arouse suspicion. By the time Crazy Hand gained wind, Mr. Wrainwright's meeting had been a smashing success. Project Nerf was out in the open.

"And a few days ago, somehow, what I'd dreaded came to pass. My identity as the mole was discovered, and Princess Daisy wasn't too happy about that. I was detained until Daisy showed mercy and had me taken here."

"But—aren't you relieved that it's over?" asked Mario.

Bentley frowned. "Guess so."

"What do you mean, 'guess so'? Last night, you slept like a baby. I could hear you snoring all the way from my room. You knew that the game was done. You didn't have to run anymore. You didn't have to look over your shoulder, jump at the slightest sound or sleep with one eye open anymore. Now that you were outed as the mole, you could relax and rest easy. Plus, Master Hand has given you no reason to fear him, and he's offered you food, a roof over your head, baths and clean clothes in exchange for information. Information which, so far, you've willingly provided."

Bentley thought this over. "Yeah. I'm guess I'm happy that this masquerade has come to an end. But—what happens after? Crazy Hand and Mr. S—they'll eventually figure out that I warbled to you."

"Protecting people is our strongest suit," said Mario. "We've been doing that for 30 years now. Don't worry—we'll keep you safe."

"After plotting against your brother and one of your allies—you're willing to risk your life for me?" asked Bentley.

"Absolutely," nodded Mario. "We're prepared to forgive, and we're prepared to forget—for the most part. But you have to work with us here, okay?"

"Okay," said Bentley. "I'll try."

At this, the green-clad brother spoke up.

"Don't try," he said. "Do."

Master Hand then floated inside, bearing two boxes of donuts.

"Sorry I'm late," he said, setting the donuts in the middle of the table. "The breakfast rush started sooner than I thought."

"Don't apologize," Mario said affably. "Bentley was just telling us about his extraordinary adventures as a mole."

"It's true," added Bentley.

"Bentley," said Mario, "would you please be so kind as to tell Master Hand what you just told me and Luigi?"

Luigi. Right—Luigi. THAT'S his name.

Taking a deep breath, Bentley obliged.

MH was silent for a few moments afterward. Then, he spoke up.

"And all of this is the truth?" he asked.

"Every word, Master Hand."

"If you're willing to relinquish additional evidence of Mr. Sakurai's involvement in Project Nerf, as well as my brother's complicity, then I'm willing to absolve you of all wrongdoing. And I'm sure the Mario Bros can absolve you as well and accept your help. Right, Mario?"

"Right," replied Mario.

"Right, Luigi?"

Luigi said nothing, still working on his food.

"Luigi?"

Luigi glanced up, as if MH had just gotten his attention. "Oh—yes, of course," he said, a little distractedly.

"I'm also willing to invite you to work for me," MH went on. "I honestly care about the health and safety of my employees, unlike some people."

"What are you talking about?" asked Bentley.

"I'm referring to Mr. S," said MH. "I decided to call him and let him know that you were in my custody. His right-hand man, Reggie, picked up the phone. And do you know what he said to me?"

"What?"

"He said, and I quote, 'That incompetent twerp failed us. Keep him. Do with him as you will.' Yeah—he really gives a rat's [bleep] about you, Bentley."

Bentley huffed. "Figures," he muttered. "All right—whatever you want, I'll get it for you."

"And as long as you do that, you'll have a well-paying job and lots of friends," said MH. "Do we have a deal?"

Bentley gave a [bleep]-eating grin. "You bet your middle finger!" he laughed. "And a sweet one at that!"

MH held out a pointer finger, and Bentley shook it. Then, he shook hands with Mario and Luigi.

"First things first," said Bentley, pulling out a tape recorder, "you might want to hear this."

He set the device on the table and pressed "play". After a few seconds, the quartet heard Mr. Sakurai's voice, speaking to somebody.

"Hmm—that's an odd coincidence," he was saying.

"How come?" That was Falco's voice.

"Because that little green rat cost me a lot of money, and I've waited for a chance to settle the score since."

"I never mentioned a name, Mr. Sakurai."

"You didn't have to—I just know."

"So—you also have a beef with Luigi?"

"Indeed. I'm gonna make him the most miserable plumber who ever lived, and I'll tell you why. Luigi nearly ran this company into the ground with his 30th anniversary b.s.! It was all Luigi this and Luigi that for a full year, and we performed poorly in the sales department! For 32 years before then, we were giving consumers what they wanted—the chivalrous, faultless hero who always jumped at the challenge! And let me be even more frank, just to show you that I'm not a hard-hearted man, that it's not all dollars and cents! Mario is iconic! He's young, he's strong, he's handsome—to a degree! He's the ideal everyman! Back in the 90s, if you asked a kid who they wanted to be, they'd always say, 'I wanna be like Mario!' He's someone who'd spring back up after being knocked down! He's so adored that even the guys want him! And then Luigi comes along with his little sobstory over nobody knowing his name or crediting him with helping his big bro, and Nintendo kowtows to him and ropes me into it! The Year of Luigi was a giant, costly spectacle! That piece of green [bleep] made me look ridiculous! And a man in my position can't afford to be made to look ridiculous!"

"That's deep."

Bentley turned off the tape recorder. "I mean, yikes," he said.

The Bros said nothing.

MH spoke, his voice quietly angry. "I want Mr. Sakurai in my office yesterday," he said. "He lied to me, manipulated me and demonstrated conduct unbecoming of a businessman."

"What if I called him, begged for his forgiveness and convinced him to take me back?" offered Bentley. "Then, I can be your mole."

"So—after getting out, you want back in?" asked Mario.

"What? It has its moments," defended Bentley.

"While it's a good idea, I'll try to think of something else," said MH. "I don't want you endangering yourself again."

Bentley exhaled. "All right, then," he said. "I trust you."

"Crazy Hand is currently detained in his own office," said MH.

"And two of his helpers, named Steve and Stevie, are confined to their rooms," added Mario. "Those two are the biggest threat. Would you like to know what they did to my brother two nights ago?"

"What did they do?"

Mario told Bentley about the trick the two Steves had pulled with the Double Cherries and Boo Mushrooms, and how Luigi had defended Chad from them.

"Oh, my God," breathed Bentley. "Crazy Hand is both clever and devious. You should worry more about Mr. Wrainwright than about me. He won't be safe as long as those three are roaming around."

"He's staying at an undisclosed location," said MH, "but your continued cooperation will ensure his safety."

Bentley nodded. "I won't let you down," he vowed.

He plucked a donut from one of the boxes and took a bite. "Now," he said, "what else would you like to know?"

1.1.1

Later that morning, the few few matches of the day were over and done, and they'd been intense—especially Luigi's. The man in green was grateful, though—it had allowed him to sweat out the excitement and anger stirred up by Bentley's presence. The man had betrayed his Flower Princess's confidence and had endangered countless others when he chose to infiltrate Chad's meeting. Luigi hoped that Bentley was thanking God that the news of the meeting had been delayed in reaching Mr. Sakurai and Crazy Hand, or else otherwise…

But then again, it had been Luigi's idea to have Daisy bring Bentley here, and he'd successfully talked his beloved out of seriously injuring the guy. And if he was genuinely willing to help, then he could let bygones be bygones. Besides, he had far more pressing matters to worry about—

Speaking of which, Falco had showered and changed clothes, and he was now killing time in his room, sipping on an energy smoothie as he surfed the Net. He was about to check on the fan club website when he heard the video call notification chime.

It was Professor Gadd.

Instantly, Falco hit "Accept".

"Prof!" he greeted. "Talk to me."

"Hey, Falco," Gadd sang out. "How've you been?"

"Better. That brand hurts less, the Princess is safe and the Mario Bros are back in the Smash Mansion. Normalcy is making its way back," smiled Falco. "How about you? How have your endeavors progressed?"

"That's exactly the reason why I called," said Gadd. "I have something to show you, but it'll be better if you experienced it in person. Run along and talk to Master Hand about canceling the rest of your morning matches, and then head right back."

"Uh—okay," said Falco, confused.

"Leave the call active," said Gadd.

"All right," said Falco, before heading toward MH's office.

He reached his destination in record time and knocked on the door.

"Enter," commanded MH.

Falco sidled in, greeting the Hand of Creation.

"What's up, Falco?" asked MH.

"I'm gonna be out for most of the morning," explained Falco. "A friend wants to show me something."

"The Professor?" asked MH.

"How did you know?"

"While you were engaged in your matches, he gave me a call," MH explained. "As you know, I take any threat to a Smasher's safety extremely seriously. So, when the Professor told me that Luigi needed a more flexible schedule so he could regularly commute between here and Evershade Valley, I was more than happy to accommodate him to the best of my ability. I've also heard that you two are becoming friends."

"That's true," said Falco. "We both wanna look out for Luigi when it comes to—him."

"I don't know all of the details, but I know that he is more despicable a villain than Dorf or Koopa," said MH. "I'll reschedule the rest of your morning matches, but try to be back by at least 2p.m., okay?"

"Okay. Thanks, Master Hand."

"Have fun," said MH.

Falco gave MH a nod and hurried back to his room.

"All right, Prof," said Falco. "We're all set."

"Do you have another laptop?"

"Yes, I do."

"Bring it along."

Falco obliged, tucking his second laptop and its accessories into a protective sleeve and turning back to Gadd.

"And here—we—go," said Gadd, pressing a few buttons.

A disassembling sensation overtook Falco, and he seemed to lift off the ground and fly straight into his computer screen.

1.1.1

Falco's world was upside down as the mass of pixels composing him reassembled and deposited him into Gadd's lab in the Gloomy Manor. The elderly professor caught and steadied the avian as he landed.

"Not bad for a first timer!" Gadd said happily once Falco's world righted itself.

"Well, personally, I prefer the air," said Falco. "Okay, Prof—what's this about?"

Gadd led Falco to a mysterious object covered by a white sheet. "Ghost wrangling is about to be revolutionized in ways you've never seen before!" he enthused. "Falco—prepare to be amazed!"

With a flourish, he whipped away the sheet, revealing—

—a Plexiglass tank surrounded by padding, to which two adjustable leather straps were attached.

"Okay…" said Falco. "What am I looking at?"

"The beginnings of my new Poltergust!" Gadd enthusiastically responded. "The protective padding you're looking at is encasing the vacuum's exoskeleton. I've decided to design the rest of the vacuum around the Plexiglass tank. And thanks to the ghosts here, such a tank wasn't that hard to procure."

Gadd indicated the Greenies and Slammers occupying the lab, working on something or other.

"Before I got this idea, I was at work perfecting the Strobulb's design," Gadd went on. "It started off as a small, green bulb that had to be screwed onto the back of the 5000's apparatus. But now, it looks like any old lightbulb. I wrapped some coolant around the bulb's base, so that it won't heat up the flashlight. And the flashlight itself has additional cooling protection."

A Slammer floated over to them, triumphantly presenting the "wand" component of the new Poltergust.

"Thanks," said Gadd.

He walked over and attached the wand to the long nozzle snaking from the under-construction apparatus.

"Most of the basic accessories are complete," said Gadd. "The suction, flashlight and Strobulb are fully operational. I'm currently working on a new Dark-Light Device, and the jet of air and to-be-determined projectile function will follow at a later time." He pointed to the handle attached to the wand. "This controls the vacuum, and as you know, this red button activates the Strobulb. The trigger near the back of the wand will fire off the projectiles, and the entire wand is coated with sweat-absorbing, slip-proof material." He picked up the vacuum. "Would you—like to try it on?"

"Why, yes," said Falco. "I'd love to try it on."

"That's what the protective padding is for," said Gadd as he held out the unfinished vacuum like a coat, allowing Falco to slip his shoulders through the straps. "I don't want the exoskeleton chafing or causing discomfort."

Falco adjusted the shoulder straps and grabbed the wand with both wings, waiting for instructions.

"I'm so glad that Luigi told me about his ambidexterity," said Gadd. "It made designing the wand easier. And as I recall, he taught you a few basics on holding and handling the Poltergust?"

"We used the 5000 model," said Falco, "but yeah. One hand should be near the Strobulb at all times, and the other hand should be near the vacuum's trigger. Which in this case is the handle."

"That's right," said Gadd.

Falco wrapped one wing around the wand and seized the handle with the other.

"Okay—now pull on the handle. Gently."

Falco obliged, feeling a rumbling sensation through his body as the vacuum activated.

"Nice, strong suction," he observed.

He released the handle when directed to do so.

"Slamming ghosts," said Falco. "You told me that you wanted him to be able to slam ghosts."

"If he allows the vacuum to build up enough power," said Gadd.

"How's that working out for you?" asked Falco.

Gadd pursed his lips. "During some of their adventures, the Mario Bros utilize hammers to fight their enemies," he said.

"They do," said Falco. "So—you want the ghost-slamming to be choreographed like a hammer swing?"

"Something like that," responded Gadd.

"Okay, here we go. So—imagine, if you will, that I'm vacuuming a ghost, and I've built up the required amount of power." Falco pantomimed vacuuming a ghost and bracing back against any resistance. "Now, I'm able to slam the ghost. My question to you is—how do you want the slam to be telegraphed? Like swinging a baseball bat?"

Falco brought the wand to his shoulder and swung it in a horizontal arc, as if he was trying to hit a baseball. "Home run!" he sang out. He swung the wand several more times. "I—I think this can work. Luigi can slam the ghost into any nearby walls, knocking aside any other ghost in his path."

Gently, Gadd stopped him. "Careful with that," he warned, indicated the beaker filled with blue-white liquid. "Don't knock over the ghost energy."

"Sorry," said Falco.

"That's quite all right," said Gadd, "and while you're on the right track, you're on the wrong train. The Bros' hammer swings can be vertical as well as horizontal, as you recall."

Falco nodded.

"I was thinking more along the lines of—chopping wood."

"Chopping wood?" repeated Falco.

"Slamming a ghost to the floor would be easier than slamming them against a wall," said Gadd.

"Chopping wood, eh?" mused Falco, straightening his shoulders and widening his stance. "So, maybe—like this?" He lifted the wand over his head before bringing it earthward in a swift, chopping motion several times.

Gadd nodded. "Close," he said, "but try to swing more from your body, rather than your arms."

Falco nodded and swung the wand downward again, this time lunging his entire body into it. He repeated this as Gadd looked on.

"A little more from your body," he said.

"Okay," said Falco.

"And also try a wider arc?"

Falco heeded the advice, Gadd fishing out his cell phone and recording the avian's actions.

"Okay, that's good," Gadd said after a while.

Falco caught his breath and shook out his shoulders.

"If Luigi swings from his body, then his arms won't tire out as quickly," explained Gadd, "and if he times his slams, then he could yield more slams before the ghost breaks free. I'm shooting for at least five to seven slams per capture attempt."

"Fifty-seven slams?"

"No, no, no. Five to seven slams. 57 slams is wishful thinking."

"I like it, Prof," said Falco, sliding off the unfinished vacuum and handing it back to Gadd. "Keep at it."

"You bet I will."

"And while the suction seems powerful enough, I think it can be upgraded further," said Falco. "What if a very strong ghost attacks him? What if barriers block his path? Those two situations would necessitate some kind of—super vacuum."

"Super vacuum," murmured Gadd. "As in—super suction…" His eyes lit up behind his glasses. "Falco—you just gave me an idea, and I'd better write it down!"

A Greenie handed the professor a pad and paper, and the latter scribbled "SUPER SUCTION" onto the paper in black ink.

"I'll just save that for later," said Gadd, tucking the paper into a drawer. "One project at a time, right?"

"Right," said Falco.

The avian made himself comfortable in the lab, plugging in and booting up his laptop and logging onto the fan club website. Occasionally, he passed tools and parts to Gadd as the elderly professor and the ghosts continued laboring away at the new Poltergust.

"Let me guess," said Falco as he fooled around on the site, poking around on chat forums and browsing the media library. "You're naming this one the Poltergust 6000?"

"I haven't thought of a name for this beauty," said Gadd. "I'll name her when assembly is almost finished."

"Oh, okay," said Falco.

He turned back to his computer as H.G. posted an announcement on the fan-site's main page. Someone had just uploaded a video to the media library.

Curious, Falco returned to the media library and quickly found the video.

"What in the name of…?" he murmured when he saw the user who'd uploaded the video.

Gadd paused in his work. "Falco—is everything all right?"

"There's a new video on the fan club website," said Falco, "and you won't guess who uploaded it."

"Who?"

"This KBoo2U individual—the one who posted the video of the Bros in that Toad House," said Falco.

Gadd set down his tools and scooted his chair next to Falco. "All righty," he said. "Let's take a look, shall we?"

Falco inhaled deeply before clicking on the video, maximizing the screen and clicking "play".

Like the previous video, this video also had a timestamp on it, and it appeared to have been taken from a surveillance camera. It showed a familiar, spacious room, with a fountain of sorts in the middle and a music player to the screen's far right. Falco's breath caught in his throat when he saw the date on the timestamp: 10/15/2015.

Luigi had been in Evershade Valley on that date.

Next to him, Gadd clutched the armrests of his chair. "That—that…" he whispered. "That's the Gloomy Manor's foyer."

As they continued to watch, Luigi walked into the room, wearing a pair of light gray workout pants and a plum-colored, short-sleeved shirt. He looked tense and stressed—his body language that of a man tightly wound. The green-capped man headed over to the music player and plugged the AUX cord into his phone. Gadd and Falco saw him fiddle around with the phone as he selected one of his playlists. Then, he walked into the center of the room, peeling off his shirt and tossing it aside as he went.

Just as he kicked off his shoes, the music started playing, and his body started moving. He danced, his body pulsing and swishing back and forth as he let the tension and turmoil loose. As the dancing grew more frenetic, the video switched between different camera angles, making sure to show as much of Luigi as possible. Body swiveling, hips winding, shoulders rolling, muscles twitching and flexing with his movements as he rocked, spun, swayed and whirled.

"All the time he was there," gasped Gadd. "This person was watching him."

He could barely breathe as the video cut to a shot of Luigi's face, the expression ecstatic, eyes closed, lips slightly parted. And then the camera slowly panned down his body, as if inviting the viewer to savor it—to enjoy it…

"Who is doing this?" asked Falco. "Who the Hell is KBoo2U, and how are they getting these videos?"

Gadd was drawn and pale. "I've seen enough of this," he said a little sharply, scooting back to his original spot.

But Falco was still entranced by the video, capturing every second of Luigi dancing and huffing and sweating, the cameras continuing to pan up, down and across his body, at several points lingering on his backside and his—

"This is sick!" Falco exclaimed, finally snapping out of it. "This website and this fan club is encouraging a twisted obsession with Luigi, and I need to put a stop to it!"

"Amen," said Gadd, going back to whatever he was working on.

Falco minimized the video and dragged it to the corner of his screen while giving little shout-outs and hollers to whoever was online at the moment.

"I don't know if these guys hated Luigi before they joined this club, or if H.G.'s rhetoric slowly brainwashed them into doing so," Falco went on, "but either way—this fan club is bad news."

His eye fell on the minimized video just as text appeared on the screen in violet letters.

Enjoy your peace of mind while you can, Luigi…

Falco hit "pause" and gawked at the image. "Holy [bleep," he said breathily.

"Hm?" asked Gadd, craning his neck to gaze at the computer screen.

Falco rotated his laptop so that Gadd could have a better look.

"Oh—holy mother of Mary," said Gadd.

"Prof," Falco said shakily, "do you think…?"

"I can't bear to say what I think," Gadd broke in.

The live chat became active.

KBoo2U: Did you all enjoy that?

Falco and Gadd sat there, frozen.

"He's—talking about the video," said Gadd.

Falco stretched his wings over the keys and began to type.

SpaceAce: Yes. Thank you for sharing.

The other fan club members responded in the affirmative.

KBoo2U: That was only the appetizer. I will continue to post videos until the joyous day when we finally have him in our clutches.

H.G.: We'd love that.

KBoo2U: And maybe we can brainstorm the wonderful things we'll do to him when that day dawns.

"J—s," said Gadd. "Well, say something."

SpaceAce: Er—I'm drawing a blank. Sorry.

Doc_Potts: I have an idea.

H.G.: Spill.

Doc_Potts: Trephination.

"Wha…?" breathed Falco. He faced Gadd, who looked positively ill. "What is that?"

"It's—it's a medical procedure where a hole is drilled into the front of someone's skull," Gadd queasily explained. "Namely, the middle of their forehead."

"Oh, God," said Falco.

KBoo2U: You know how to do that?

Doc_Potts: Of course. I'm a medical man, remember?

KBoo2U: Trephination. I like it, Doc. I can almost picture you tying him down and then going to work on him with that drill.

Doc_Potts: :)

H.G.: Don't give him any anesthetic. I want him to feel everything.

"Oh, dear Lord," said Falco.

KBoo2U: Bring a mirror. I want him to watch it.

"God, help us," intoned Gadd.

H.G.: And when you're done, maybe you can put something inside. Preferably, something alive.

KBoo2U: Oh, yes. Like a nice, juicy worm. Or a spider. Or maybe a bunch of little spiders.

"J—s, Mary and Joseph," breathed Falco.

H.G.: Let's see his eyes as that living organism goes inside that hole.

"Falco, shut it off," Gadd commanded in a low voice.

KBoo2U: Make him watch as the organism goes in.

"Please, Falco, shut it off," Gadd said again, in a louder tone.

KBoo2U: And soup up the room with a good sound system. I want to hear his screams as the organism digs around inside his f—ing brain.

"For C—st's sake, man, shut it off!" Gadd barked.

"Okay, okay!" said Falco, disconnecting from the chat and logging out of the website.

The two men sat there in silence, shaking a little.

Tight-lipped, Gadd straightened his lab coat and turned his attention back to his workstation.

"No more distractions," he said briskly. "The sooner we finish this new Poltergust, the better."

Falco couldn't have agreed more.

1.1.1

"Oh, man," groaned MH as he bent double over the bucket, purging more of that black substance. "If any deity up there is listening—then please, make it stop!"

It took a while, but mercifully, his prayer was answered. Once he was sure that his stomach was steadied, he took a sip of herbal tea and then leaned back in his chair.

"It's all right, MH. It's all right," Rory said comfortingly as he took the bucket and passed it to Remy.

"I have a bad feeling about—whatever that is," said MH. "Something tells me that we need to get it away from the Smash Mansion before it hurts someone—or worse."

"We have it tightly sealed in a secure area," said Remy. "Let it try to break out."

"Don't tempt fate," warned MH as Remy carried the bucket out of the office.

The phone rang, and MH answered it. "Hello?"

"Hello, Master Hand."

"Mr. Sakurai!" exclaimed MH. "What a surprise."

"I was told that you wanted to see me," said Mr. Sakurai.

"That's correct."

"Hm. That's an odd coincidence. Because I want to see you, too."

"And why is that?"

"Because we have your mole, Master Hand."

"My—mole?"

"You know, the mole who was supposed to be my most trusted employee? The mole who helped arrange the secret meeting in Sarasaland?"

"My actions were my own, and to my own purpose," the glove heard Jeff say, weakly but defiantly. "Master Hand had nothing to do with it."

"Look at him, trying to claim full responsibility," said Mr. Sakurai. "Truly, a faithful employee to the very end. But if Jeff wasn't acting on your behalf, then how did you come across the recording of my conversation with Crazy Hand? It's obvious that you had us meet under false pretenses, knowing that your brother would panic about the role he played in this drama. Coincidence? I think not. Don't be bashful, Master Hand—step up and claim your reward."

"I did what I had to do," MH said firmly.

"Yes, well—so did I," Mr. Sakurai smoothly responded. "However, I didn't come here to rake you over the coals. I'm a businessman, MH. And as I businessman, I have a lucrative proposal for you."

"I'm listening."

"It's a three-part proposal, actually," said Mr. Sakurai. "First, I propose that the suspensions on the two Steves be lifted, and that Crazy Hand resumes his duties as assistant master of ceremonies. Second, I propose that Chad Wrainwright surrenders himself to the aforementioned trio. Third and finally, I propose that all evidence of this Project Nerf nonsense be destroyed in an effort to put it behind us once and for all. In exchange, Jeff will be allowed to return to the Smash Mansion and resume his normal life."

"Very interesting proposal you have there," said MH.

"However, the latter will only take place once I see on the news that your brother and the two Steves have been exonerated and absolved of all wrongdoing. That's my proposal, and it's non-negotiable. I'll give you until Halloween night to consider."

"Hmm," said MH. "It's funny you should say that, because I just so happen to have a counter-proposal."

"I'm sorry. Do you not know what 'non-negotiable' means?"

"Just hear me out, Mr. Sakurai. It just so happens that your mole, the one snooping around in Sarasaland and possibly endangering many of my Smashers by choosing to tell you about Chad's meeting, is currently in our custody. Reggie already told me that he could care less about Bentley, but you're not Reggie, are you?"

A beat.

"No," said Mr. Sakurai. "I'm not."

"And now, we get to my counter-proposal. I return Bentley, you return Jeff. It's as simple as that."

Another beat. "When?"

"Later this afternoon—around 4p.m."

"Where?"

"That I'll leave to you."

"There's a park where I like to go to clear my head, with a beautiful stone bridge arching over a lake. We'll meet up at that bridge."

"Done," said MH.

Sakurai drew in a breath. "If I let Jeff go," he said, "then Crazy Hand will think he escaped, and—he's not gonna be happy."

"Well, like you said, you're a businessman," MH said coolly. "You can placate my brother with another of your proposals."

"True," said Mr. Sakurai. Retaining an affable tone, he added, "If anything goes wrong before or during our transaction—then God help Jeff and Bentley."

Click.

MH sat at his desk for a few seconds before returning his phone to its cradle. Then, he floated out of the office to explain the situation to Bentley.

1.1.1

"Are you sure you want to do this?" asked MH as he and Bentley, joined by Remy and Rory strode toward the park.

"It's not about what I want," replied Bentley. "It's about what needs to be done."

"They could already suspect that we swayed you," warned MH.

"I'll take that risk," said Bentley. "I don't want innocent people getting hurt—or worse—on my watch."

MH nodded. "Good man."

Soon, the agreed-upon meeting spot came into view. The group halted, and the giant glove turned to Remy and Rory. "Wait here," he instructed. "Prepare to act should anything go wrong."

"You got it," said Rory.

He and Remy watched as MH and Bentley continued on their way.

The two were soon stopped by a cheery voice.

"That'll be close enough," said the voice. "Thank you! Now, if Bentley could kindly proceed toward the end of the bridge on his lonesome, we'd greatly appreciate it."

"Good luck, Bentley," MH said softly as he squeezed Bentley's shoulder.

"Promptly, if you please," said the voice.

"All right," said MH. "I'm sending him out right now."

Bentley squared his shoulders and walked to the end of the bridge.

"Bentley!" greeted the voice. "They didn't hurt you, did they?"

"Not severely," Bentley jovially responded. "I'm a little homesick, though."

"Fear not," the voice said soothingly. "Your ordeal is near an end. We have some McDonald's waiting for you."

"Now that's what I'd like to hear!" whooped Bentley. "Quarter Pounder with Cheese, here I come!"

He saw the distant figure of a man appear on the other side of the bridge.

"You may now proceed across," said the voice. "Please, try not to make eye contact with the gentleman who will be passing you."

"Very well," said Bentley.

Master Hand, Remy and Rory watched with bated breath as Bentley and Jeff approached each other on the bridge. The former continued to walk with a confident step, while the latter had a noticeable limp. The Hand of Creation could only imagine what Jeff had endured in the interim.

As for Jeff, he wasn't even thinking about it. Nor was he thinking about the pain. All he was thinking about was the sanctuary that awaited on the other side of the bridge, and crossing to it as quickly as possible.

Bentley walked with a slightly faster gait, keeping his eyes down and resisting the urge to glance at Jeff. He still didn't know what was in store for him, but it didn't matter right now. All that mattered was that he'd started to atone for his actions, and that the other man was closer and closer to safety because of him.

The two men were now approaching the center of the bridge. Jeff glanced up at Master Hand, who gave him an encouraging wave. Bentley glanced up at Mr. Sakurai, who beamed at him.

This is it, they both thought. This is it.

Jeff quickened his pace despite his limp, and Bentley did the same.

And then—something intervened.

Just as Bentley and Jeff met each other at the center of the bridge, a pitch black portal opened up under their feet and began to suck them in. Desperately, both men clawed at the stone floor in an attempt to pull themselves back up, but the pull beneath them was too strong.

"What's going on?!" MH demanded.

"I don't know!" replied Rory. "I don't…"

"We gotta help them!" exclaimed MH, flying over as Remy and Rory ran after him.

The trio endeavored to pull Jeff and Bentley free, but their efforts were increasingly futile. On the other side of the bridge, Mr. Sakurai and his bodyguards made no effort to assist the imperiled pair.

And then the mysterious portal tore Bentley and Jeff out of Master Hand's grip, Jeff managing to toss something to the Hand of Creation before he and Bentley were dragged under, screaming as they went.

The portal closed, leaving MH and his two companions staring after it in shock. Then, they glanced up.

Mr. Sakurai and his entourage were nowhere to be found.

1.1.1

"This is crazy!" exclaimed Rory as he, Remy and MH hurried back toward the Smash Mansion. "This is absolutely crazy! What was that portal, and where did it come from?!"

"We're gonna find out," MH replied in a low voice.

They reached the Smash Mansion in record time, where Jimmy met them, his face pale.

"You're not gonna believe this," he gasped.

"What's happened now?" MH wanted to know.

"Let me give you the tamest of the news first," said Jimmy, opening the YouTube app on his cell phone. "This video was posted online about 15 minutes ago!"

MH, Remy and Rory crowded around Jimmy's phone as the video played.

It was a clip of Stevie, nursing the wounds he'd probably sustained during a Smash match. And when he glared at the camera and launched into a rant, they all knew that Luigi had been the opponent.

"[Bleep] this, I'm on f—ing Miiverse with my f—ing hands up," Stevie was seething. "I'm not starting my f—ing self! You f—ing stupid [bleep]! This stupid f—ing justice, all f—ing righteous f—ing [BLEEP, Luigi, is doing this [bleep]! You f—ing [BLEEP]! I swear to f—ing God, I'm gonna…" He continued to rage about Luigi and his combos, and then he said, "You know what? Everyone type in the chat, 'Luigi's a stupid [bleep]'. Just type in the chat 'Luigi's a stupid [bleep]'. [Bleep] him. [Bleep] him."

"It's already gotten a thousand hits," said Jimmy.

"Who posted this?" asked MH.

"We're trying to find out," replied Jimmy, "but that's not the worst part."

Rory groaned. "Do we even wanna know the worst part?"

Jimmy swallowed. "I don't know how, but—Crazy Hand has escaped. Again."

"What?!" MH interjected.

"My best bet is that he intends to take the two Steves with him, so they can wreak havoc together," Jimmy went on. "Timmy and I tried to stop him, but—it appears he's gotten stronger."

MH composed himself. "I'll send out a warning to the Smashers, visitors and spectators," he said. "Miis will be out 24/7 in rotating shifts, searching for these three. We can only hope that we find them before unspeakable tragedy strikes."

Little did they know that prior to making a break for it, Steve and Stevie had decided to leave a parting gift for the Smashers. And what a parting gift it would be…

1.1.1

Chad sat in the restaurant of the hotel he was staying at, a big smile on his face as he ate his food. Most of the Smash Mansion had probably seen his video by now, and the two Steves were getting a taste of their own medicine. After trying to vilify Mario, they'd been exposed as the salty monsters they really were. The New England native double-dared them to try and woo their way back into everyone's good graces after this.

He pulled out his phone and checked his stats on YouTube. 1500 hits and counting. Master Hand would no doubt give him grief over this particular stunt, but it had to be done. He had to show Steve and Stevie that they couldn't bully him anymore. And once the evidence against them was fully analyzed, they'd hopefully be expelled from this tournament, never to be seen or heard from again.

But a man could only dream, right?

Chad finished his meal, charged it to his room and stood and stretched before walking to the elevators. He got into one that was just opening and took it to his floor. When he reached his hotel room, he held his room key against the sensor, unlocked the door and stepped inside.

Everything was just as he'd left it.

Quickly, Chad closed the door behind him and engaged the deadbolt. Then, he turned on his TV, stripped off his clothes, jumped into a quick shower and changed into something more casual. He hoped to go for a little walk around the area, maybe do some shopping, before turning in for the night. But first, he needed to digest the food he'd eaten.

He sat in his bed, reclining on two propped-up pillows, and changed the TV to a Smash-related channel.

"Hello, Chad."

He jumped, swiveling his head around to the source of the voice. And what he saw made his blood freeze.

Steve and Stevie were seated together on the small couch by the window.

"How did you get here?" Chad barked sharply, quickly sliding off the bed and backing away. "What do you want?"

"To answer your first question—that's not really relevant right now," cooed Steve.

"And to answer your second question—I think you know what we want," added Stevie.

Chad made a beeline for the door as the two Steves stood from the couch and came toward him. Something in his mind warned him that his life was now in danger, and that he needed to get out of here fast!

Happy anniversary, SMB!

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