me, sliding in with an update 2+ years later: haha whoops
But yeah, this final chapter's been sitting as a wip for too goddamn long and I finally found my inspiration to finish it! Not entirely sure if I'm happy with the end result, but...glad that it's over. Even if it's been like 3 years since I started with ch1
Hope you enjoy! Love how the final chapter is about 4k, making it like 3/5 of this entire fic lmao
Nothingness is…horrifying.
There's no better way to put it. The white expanse as far as the eye could see isn't too sinister at first, but Mr. L knows the reality. He knows that this is going to be the fate of everyone and everything once the Count is finished. This place, which was once a vibrant, lively kingdom, has been reduced to a calm, orderly void.
If he were honest, not too long ago he'd not given the situation that much thought. But now? Looking at the expansive blankness around him, there's something akin to anxiety curling in his gut. An obvious sense of wrongness is eating away at him, and he has no idea why. This was always going to be the outcome – why is it like his mind is having second thoughts?
He briefly wonders what Mario would think.
And then, just as fast, he tells himself that he doesn't know a Mario.
He doesn't. He doesn't. Despite what his mind seems to be throwing at him, the fact that he doesn't know a Mario is one thing he's certain of.
(The cool expanse of space, filled with the giggles of a hundred tiny, sentient star children; the shrill voices yelling up at them, calling for them to come back down. Mario, at his side, laughing his head off with a boundless joy he'd not heard in a long time—)
He shakes his head so roughly that his vision blurs from dizziness for a few seconds. No. It's nothing – it's a fabrication. He's Mr. L, the Green Thunder. He doesn't have a family. He doesn't have anyone but the Count.
"There's…nothing left."
His head jerks up sharply, eyes zeroing in on the group that had definitely not been there a minute ago. Fortunately, their backs are turned to him. Mr. L mentally scolds himself for being so stupid, and warily makes his way closer as the group of heroes continue to talk amongst themselves.
The one who'd spoken, the woman in the pink dress, looks absolutely distraught. The rainbow pixl flutters away from the man in red to raise up slightly.
"Wait…" it says, sounding confused, "I can feel something very faint."
Mr. L's brows furrow for a moment, just as perplexed as the butterfly, and they reach the same conclusion almost simultaneously.
"It's the Pure Heart; it has to be!" the pixl proclaims, sounding a mixture of overjoyed and wary. "Though…I can't believe there's anything left here. But we have to take a look."
The man in red makes a sound of agreement, quickly following the butterfly pixl as it flies off ahead. The woman in pink follows, and Mr. L watches with thinly veiled amusement as the monster grumbles under its breath before grumpily stomping after them. Mr. L stretches his arms above his head, allowing the heroes to have a little bit of a head start, before quickly pursuing them as silently as he can.
He feels like a walk through an empty abyss should be monotonous, but at least the heroes provide him with some measure of entertainment. He finds himself stifling snickers as the monster of the group loudly proclaims his discomfort every single minute, typically followed by the woman in pink sighing and reprimanding him gently, but for some reason the most hilarious part is how every so often the man in red tilts his head back in exasperation. For an unlikely group of heroes, they sure do seem to make a weirdly cohesive family unit.
"Wait!" the rainbow pixl calls out, startling Mr. L out of his inner thoughts. "What's that over there?"
He turns to look, and immediately zeroes in on the visible lump of grey on the horizon. In the expanse of white, it's an immediate eyesore, but it's enough of a visual clue for the heroes to run over to it.
"Is that…" the woman in pink says, "is that the Pure Heart?"
Mr. L tilts his head, studying the grey rock closer, and notices the curved edge sticking up. It definitely looks distinctly heart-shaped, and that's all he needs to know.
"It seems impossible, but somehow it survived the obliteration of this world…" the pixl flutters closer, seeming fascinated and wary at the exact same time. "There…there's something odd about it, though…"
If it's the Pure Heart, then that's all the cue Mr. L needs. Huffing back a laugh, he leaps over the group, landing firmly on the…ground next to the stone. He snickers at their shocked expressions, giving a loose, uncaring shrug.
"This place is pretty bland now, eh?"
The woman in pink steps forward, brandishing what appears to be a parasol, and Mr. L sighs, tilting his head to regard the Pure Heart embedded in the ground. He blinks at it for a moment, hearing the woman in pink gear up to confront him, but he interrupts her quickly with a guffaw.
"What do we have here?" He reaches down and pulls the Pure Heart free with a simple, strong tug. He shuffles it around in his hands, momentarily curious, before smiling. "Looks like your Pure Heart's broken. Shame. Guess they can't handle the end of the world." He twirls it around on a finger – despite its stone-like appearance, it's still just as light as a normal, living Pure Heart. "But who cares, anyway. I'll swipe it just for kicks."
"How dare you!" the woman in pink says, and Mr. L notes that her entire aura seems to be a far cry from what it was back when he'd encountered the heroes in space. Huh. Guess witnessing a world end before your very eyes did that to you.
"Princess…" The familiar voice of the man in red makes her stop in her tracks. The hero has one hand outstretched towards the woman, the obvious gesture of wanting to hold someone back but unsure if physical contact would make it worse.
"Ah, it's you!" Mr. L says, making sure his tone is drenched in poison. He sees the man in red wince. Good. "Couldn't miss that trendy red-shirt-blue-overalls combo."
The butterfly pixl flutters towards him angrily. Maybe if it'd been anything other than a lightweight bug that he'd be able to flatten in the blink of an eye, Mr. L would have felt some semblance of fear. As it stands, he regards the creature with an unimpressed stare.
"You're that creep we fought in outer space!"
He doesn't bother even replying. Let the butterfly be stupid and point out the obvious if it wants to.
"So, how about that Prognosticus!" He claps his hands together, and then spreads his arms wide to gesture to the surrounding abyss. "Anything the Count doesn't like…poof! It never existed." A small pinprick of something within him feels sick as he says that. Like there's a tiny part of him that's afraid there's more to this than he believes. Immediately, he mentally snarls at himself and smothers that feeling in contempt. He takes in the tense, wary forms of the heroes and forces a shrug. "Anyway, I've got to run. Stay out of the Count's business if you want to live!"
"No!" The woman in pink seems to have recovered her previous anger. "We are going to stop Count Bleck! Now hand over the Pure Heart, you...you monster!"
He barely stops himself from visibly flinching at that. He catches the man in red making a similarly aborted motion, but brushes it off in favour of focusing on his swelling anger.
He clicks his tongue. "Still pushing for a fight, huh? Fine." His tone is cold. "Who am I to disappoint?"
On cue, his newly repaired and improved Brobot slams onto the scene. There's some kind of cruel amusement at watching the heroes rear back in sheer panic and alarm, and Mr. L cackles. He takes a few steps back to rest a hand on the giant metal boot of his creation.
"Check this thing out! You may have trashed the old design, but I've learnt from my mistakes! This bad boy is sporting the latest in brobotics!" He grins. "This is my new friend: Brobot L-Type!"
Climbing in and sitting back in front of Brobot's controls feels like home.
"The Green Thunder strikes like lightning!" he yells, as soon as his gloved hands wrap around the levers. He jerks them forward, feeling a grim satisfaction as the heroes leap back in terror as one of Brobot's metal fists smashes into the spot where they'd been standing.
"Are you insane?!" the butterfly sputters, before the man in red turns to gently motion her backwards. She does so, rather reluctantly, but her voice is still ringing in his ears. The tone is different. The volume is different. Hell, everything about it is different, but—
"Are you insane, bro?" But Mario's laughing, and – in response – he smiles rather sheepishly.
"Are you telling me that I'm wrong?"
"I never said that!"
"There was an implication, Mario."
"Was not!"
"Was too!"
Mr. L shakes his head. The heroes are looking at him warily, probably wondering why he hasn't struck again, and…well, Mr. L obliges. Brobot careens forward, again missing the group by a hair, and backs away quickly as the monster's jaws open and hot flames bellow out. He bites his tongue. Something to look out for.
The princess still has her parasol out, expression twisted into something fierce, but that isn't what catches his eye. It's the man in red, standing between the other two, who doesn't appear to have any sort of fighting stance at all. His shoulders are slumped, and his head is tilted – it's not at all the posture that a hero fighting against the impending darkness should have.
"You sure you wanna fight, Mr. Jumpsallthetime? Doesn't seem like your heart's into it. Kinda strange for one of the supposed 'chosen heroes'!" He mocks. "Why not actually try and take me out? Maybe it'll make you feel like you're actually making progress towards defeating the Count!"
The man in red pauses. But it's not like the previous hesitations Mr. L's had to deal with before. This…this is a full-on freeze, followed by the clenching of gloves, and he watches curiously as the hero's entire posture seems to change. Gone is the uncertainty and conflict. In its place is resolute determination and…maybe a hint of anger. Huh.
"I'm not going to defeat you." The so-called hero's voice is unwavering. Again, just like before, there's…a small feeling in the back of his mind. It's…familiar? But also not. However, the man in red's next words throw him for a loop. "I'm going to save you."
"Save me?" He replies incredulously. "I'm doing this on my own free will, thank you!"
Clearly, that's the wrong thing to say, because the hint of anger from before is much more abundant now. His hands tense on the levers.
"Whatever," he scoffs, wrenching Brobot forward. "Enough mid-battle banter! It's time to finish this!"
He loses. Completely. Utterly.
"What?" He can't even try to mask the sheer disbelief in his voice this time, watching as his new and improved creation explodes. "This is impossible! My Brobot L-Type shoots missiles. Missiles!" The disbelief, again, is easily overshadowed his own grief at the loss of his metal bro yet again. And suddenly, he realises that he's shaking – which is impossible. He doesn't tremble. The Green Thunder doesn't let little things like this get to him. The heroes are cheating, that's all. He's not weak; they're cheating. "This is impossible! Why can't I win?!"
He can't breathe.
Oh god, he can't breathe, come on, take a goddamn breath – don't let a little thing like this get to you now—
"Hey…" Something warm touches lightly against his shoulder. And suddenly…everything feels okay. "It's okay. Just breathe for me, okay?" He can't see. He's fucking crying. When had that happened? "I'm right here. Come on, look at me." The warmth on his shoulder moves, and it takes him a lot longer than it should to realise that a pair of hands are now securely holding his hands. It's not a tight grip; it doesn't make him feel like he's trapped… It strangely brings up feeling he can associate with laughing at a stupid joke, being handed a cup of cocoa on a freezing winter day…
It feels like home.
What…what the fuck?
He opens his eyes (when had he even closed them?) and sees red. Mr. L jerks away hard, like he's been burned, shoving away the hero in the process. The calm feeling is rapidly turning into an uncomfortable mix of anger and shame, and Mr. L bites his tongue hard to try and stop thinking about how he wants to go back to that small moment, where for once he'd felt like he'd belonged somewhere.
"W-what the fuck is your game?!" he yells instead. His thoughts begin to run wild with random justifications for the hero's actions. What motive does this asshole have that involves tearing him down? Hell, what kind of "hero" even pulled a stunt like that, even on someone they considered their enemy? Mr. L laughs, too high-pitched and hysterical to sound even like it ever stemmed from amusement. "Is seeing me like this fun for you, Mr. Jumpsallthetime? I know you guys hate the Count, but I wasn't aware that meant—"
"Mario."
He stops. Everything stops. His eyes dart back to the red-clad hero's face as he takes a step forward. Mr. L's hands shake. How…what the fuck? Why did Mr. Jumpsallthetime know that name? How did he know that name?!
"W-what—" he starts to speak, but then Mr. Jumpsallthetime lifts up the brim of his red hat and fixes Mr. L in place with eyes that are a hauntingly familiar shade of blue.
And then it clicks. The eyes, the face, the fucking personality – Mr. L has seen it all before. But he's seen it with a person who shouldn't be real, who can't be real-
"My name is Mario."
It's funny, he thinks briefly, how a few words can shatter your world completely.
There's some faint ringing in his ears as he stares. Neither of them move – hell, neither of them seem to even breathe. Mr. L stares at a man who can't exist, because if he did exist, then—then—
Why can't I remember you?
He feels like he needs to throw up.
And then, oh-so suddenly, the stillness is broken by the butterfly pixl fluttering forward. It hovers in place just beside the man – Mario? – and though it lacks a clear face, Mr. L can tell he's being stared at.
"That's the thing, Mr. L," it says, and clearly it lacks the ability to read a fucking room, because even the man in red startles at the words. "Maybe you keep losing because you're weak."
That's—That's not something he needs to hear right now. The overwhelming emotions from before are rearing their heads again, and Mr. L curses quietly and quickly, shaking his head. He needs to get out of here before he does something he'll regret, like—like—
Like attacking my brother?
Shut up!
It's too easy to pull on the Count's power, too easy to open a rift and throw himself through it. He can hear the echoes of a yell, a familiar voice crying a name he doesn't know, and closes the rift behind himself.
He's still in that same, dead world. But it's far enough away from those heroes that it's completely silent. It's nice. It's soothing. Mr. L doesn't even think twice before falling to his knees and choking out a sob. It takes a lot of willpower to stop himself from curling up into a pitiful ball.
The man in red is Mario. How? How? How can he know his enemy before even meeting him? It doesn't make sense. Granted, Mr. L himself has already been a bit outlandish in respects to the Count's usual grunts, but this…this is something else. How can he face the Count after this? Not just after his loss, but…after everything. Is he even Mr. L? He'd been someone else once, a long time ago. A ghost hunter. An inventor. A brother. He…he's the man in red's brother? But he can't be. He'd know. He'd…
"Did they wound your fragile pride, Mr. L? Demolish your robot again?"
He startles, but knows that chiding, condescending tone. Mr. L gets to his feet, wipes as his face roughly, and clears his throat.
"Hey, Dimentio," he greets, turning to face to creepy, floating jester. Let the guy think that Mr. L's upset over losing – it's much easier than admitting the insane truth. Dimentio has that unsettling smile on his face, the same one he always has, and he bites the inside of his cheek briefly before continuing. "I'm stumped. You'd think a giant robot would be enough to crush these heroes…"
Dimentio's mocking, empty gaze burns, and he sharply turns away again.
"I'm a disgrace. There's no way I can show my face to Count Bleck after this."
There's a pause, and he hears Dimentio tut. "Perhaps that is for the best."
He smells the burning mere moments before it happens. Mr. L darts backwards, watching in horror as an explosion scorches the spot he'd been standing at. His heart thudding in his chest and blood rushing in his ears, Mr. L turns back to the mad jester.
"Watch it, Dimentio! What was that for?!"
Dimentio tilts his head, voice sickeningly sweet. "You said it yourself. You can't go back to the Count now. So get lost."
What the fuck? He blinks rapidly, trying desperately to understand the turn of events, and throws out a shaky smile. So much is happening at once, and he feels like he's been thrown into the deep end of a pool. He's floundering.
"Not a funny joke, Dimentio." His voice isn't shaking. It isn't. "If I wanted to laugh, your face is inspiration enough!"
The jester says something else, but Mr. L can't hear it. His mind tries to rationalise what's happening—anything. His head spins, and he winces and presses a glove to an eye as he feels the impending throb of a headache. What's happening? What is Dimentio doing? What—what is he doing? He needs to go – to run – but where? He can't go to the Count. He can't trust Dimentio. Where? Where? Where?
Mario! Go to Mario! Mario can—
Dimentio's eerie laugh echoes in the vast abyss of nothing, cutting through the turbulent voice in his mind, before the jester shushes him. "Don't worry. It won't be so bad, I promise. I'll send those heroes your way soon, just so you'll have someone to play with."
His thoughts come roaring back to life in seconds. Mario! Mario! He's going to hurt Mario—
Dimentio snaps his fingers, and the world explodes in fire as Mr. L screams.
I can't breathe.
Where is he? It's cold and dark. Something grasps onto his ankle, and he flails, foot colliding with something. It lets go and he sinks.
I can't breathe!
What happened to him? He can't…he can't...
Where am I?
He thinks of fire. Of purple magic. Of pain.
Where…where is…
Where is he? He wants to go home.
Where is Mario?
Clad in green and blue, Luigi gasps awake in the Underwhere. His clothes are soaked and sticking, his lungs burning, and his skin tingling with an explosion he can't seem to remember…but he feels…free? Of what? From who?
He blinks. He stares up at an unsettling blue and purple sky and can almost feel the aura of death. He's been through a haunted mansion before – he can recognise that feeling almost just as easily as breathing. Luigi sits up, and – just as suddenly as his awakening – yelps as his head bursts with pain. He puts a hand to his head, trying to get to his feet, but only succeeds at stumbling forward and barely manages to grab a hold on one of the protruding rocks to avoid smacking face-first into the ground.
Where am I? What's going on? How am I here? What—? Where's the princess? And Bowser? And—
His body trembles, though whether it's from the cold or fear, he's not entirely sure. He looks up, trying to see if he can recognise his surroundings, but his memory comes up empty. He'd definitely recognise a creepy place like this after all – he's not the type to forget something like that. He exhales harshly and feels the ache in his head abate somewhat. It's enough for him to get his thoughts under some semblance of control, and he makes a pained noise.
"How'd I end up in this stinky place?" He asks himself, moving his trembling hand to his chest instead, where it clenches almost to the point of pain. Where…where…? What happened? "Count Bleck's underlings grabbed me…and then…" He…remembers a woman in glasses. A flash of red. And then—and then—
"…Luigi?"
His instinctive reaction is to scream. He rears backwards, facing the voice, all but forgetting about the stone he'd been crouched beside. Immediately, he yelps as he's sent sprawling backwards, head hitting the grass rather solidly that it sends his hat flying a few metres. Too busy in rubbing his aching head, he doesn't so much react as fast to the rapidly approaching footsteps as he'd liked to have done.
A hand grips his left shoulder while the other reaches to help pull him up into a sitting position. "Whoa!" There's a laugh underlying the tone. It has a familiar warm lilt to it that causes Luigi's head to snap upwards.
And God, there's nothing more incredible in the entire universe than seeing his big brother's face.
"You okay, bro?" It's Mario. Mario. Mario's right in front of him, smiling with his eyes crinkling slightly at the corners, and it's easily the most wonderful thing he's ever seen. "Sorry for startling you like that."
Luigi hesitates. "…Mario?"
The hand on his shoulder squeezes. Even blind, Luigi'd be able to recognise that action anywhere. He huffs out a laugh, but it chokes towards the end, and then suddenly…suddenly, he's sobbing, throwing himself at his brother.
"MARIO!"
The arms that hug him back are warm and oh-so familiar.
His brother is here, in this terrifying, unknown place, and Luigi's never felt safer. He sobs and sniffles into his brother's (already soaked) overalls, letting the soothing tone of their mother language wash over him as Mario speaks softly, rubbing a hand on his back in comfort.
"I'm here now, bro. Don't worry."
Luigi nods.
Mario gently pushes him away, and Luigi looks up. He's startled to see just how alive his brother's eyes are. There are way too many emotions running through them to place, but Luigi catches the main ones of sheer happiness and…relief?
Mario must be relieved to have found him – Luigi knows that he'd feel the exact same way after all – but…why…
Why do I suddenly feel like I need to apologise?
He's…he's been here. Lost. The…entire time?
No, I haven't.
But he has? He doesn't remember anything else… He remembers the wedding, remembers the princess and Bowser, remembers an explosion followed by waking up, incredibly disorientated, with a couple of goombas, but…but it feels like his bones ache with battles he's never fought. The faint explosion of fire in his memory is just that – a memory – but…when? How? What…
His train of thought is abruptly derailed as Mario grabs at him again, this time his brother burying his face into his shoulder. Luigi grasps back, laughing as he sniffles, and he can feel his brother's body tremble with responding laughter. It's nice. And then, Mario pulls away.
"Luigi…" his brother's expression goes from happy to…something. It looks too serious to be mere curiosity, but it isn't stern either. It's…something. "Do you remember how you got here?"
He doesn't. Luigi shakes his head.
Mario hums, clearly considering something, before his brother smiles and shakes his head, leaning over to retrieve Luigi's lost cap and planting it back on his little brother's head. It's damp and gross, and Luigi makes a noise of discomfort that has his brother laughing loudly. Mario gets to his feet, holding out his hands for Luigi to take, and huffs out another laugh as Luigi skids slightly on mud.
"Well, welcome back anyway, bro! It's so great to see you."
He's okay. Mario's okay. They're both okay and together again, and for some reason that's incredibly important for his subconscious to know.
He grins in response. "It's…great to be back."
(There's something his brother isn't telling him. Luigi tells him as such.
"Luigi, do you trust me?"
He doesn't even hesitate in his answer. "Of course!"
"Then…" Mario sounds weary, and when his big brother turns to him, Luigi is startled at how tired he looks, "then please trust me about this. I'll promise to tell you later? When it's safer. I just…" His brother fumbles with his words for a second (which Mario never has, so that's easily another red flag). "I want to be happy that we've found each other again. Is that okay?"
Is it?
A part of him wants to know – but he trusts Mario. He trusts his brother implicitly.
"Yeah – as long as you do tell me eventually, bro. You gotta promise!"
Mario's responding smile is tired, but the hand on his shoulder is warm and alive. "I promise.")