T Plus 22 Days
Mario barely slept a wink last night. The confessions he'd heard in Sarasaland swept about his mind in a mad, surreal whirl. Adding to this maelstrom were his two heated exchanges with Master Hand, the two Steves' attack on Luigi, those four men ganging up on him and what had gone down between him and Luigi after MH had disciplined him. This maelstrom of memories had kept him awake for most of the night, sleep coming in restless bursts. When his eyes fluttered open at around five in the morning, he felt physically and emotionally weighed down. He didn't have the energy to drag himself out of bed, and it was as if his eyelids had gained density. The man in red was tired, so tired, and yet he couldn't fall back asleep, as his dreams would instantly sour.
He lay on his side, staring out the window at the gray dawn. There was a gnawing pain in his head, his abdomen and the back of his throat. Hot tears trailed down his cheeks, and he could barely breathe. A gloved hand flew to his mouth to stifle the sobs. He was hurt and angry and guilty—so many people had done these f—ed up things to Luigi, and Mario should've done more. But he didn't. Because he was too absorbed in being a hero and a celebrity.
I've done f—ed up things to him, too. Stepping on his foot after that tennis tournament nearly eleven years ago. Secretly fuming after he defeated me in a Smash battle. Leaving him in my shadow, leaving him behind in some of my adventures. Traumatizing him after falling for the Boos' tricks. And let's not forget all the times I fought with him…
Mario swallowed thickly, once again remembering the things he'd said to Luigi following his suspension. The last time they'd had that severe of a fight was way back in 1990, when torrential rainfall had kept them cooped up inside the house. Luigi had opted to curl up with his favorite book, while Mario had decided to put on his favorite record. After two straight weeks of rain, all Hell had broken loose.
"Mario, turn that racket down! Can't you see I'm trying to read?"
"Well, I wanna listen to music! This record's hot!"
The record, melting, succumbing to the red-orange flames.
"There! Now, it's even hotter!"
"Hey! That was my favorite record!"
"Well, it serves you right for the time you busted my favorite wrench!"
Sorry to say—things quickly got physical between them. No punches were thrown, but the ensuing altercation was decidedly physical. And—more hurtful words were said.
"I wish I never even had a brother!"
"Oh, yeah? Then consider yourself de-brotherized! Farewell, ex-brother!"
Mario didn't really remember much after that. He could only guess that Luigi did his usual thing to clear his head—hitting the gym before retreating to his room to dance to his music. As for Mario, he had a punching bag set up in his room, and after pounding on it for a few hours, he'd gone for a walk. And during that walk, the Koopalings had grabbed him and delivered him to their dear King Dad, and then they'd—experimented on him.
Of course, before the experiments, they'd gloated that they were responsible for the two-week downpour, part of their plan to flood the MK. The next thing he remembered was the pain, degradation and humiliation as he was used as their personal lab rat, culminating in them turning him into a mindless killing machine with only a helmet. His last voluntary thought had been that he'd never get the chance to mend fences with Luigi—or so he thought.
Because Luigi had come to save him!
Those villains had armed Mario with a wrench and sicced him on his frog suit-clad brother, but by the grace of God, Luigi had broken through the brainwashing using a move he'd employed during their altercation. Somehow, the helmet had wound up on Ludwig's head, and as soon as Mario could once again think clearly—
"Hey! Are you all right, Big Bro?!"
"Never better, Lil' Bro! I see you took my advice about wearing a frog suit!"
They made the now-brainwashed Ludwig chase his dad and his siblings all around the castle before holding each other close, their heated exchange all but forgotten as they exchanged apologies. Little did they know that it wouldn't be the last time Luigi would rescue Mario, but that's missing the point.
In his good-natured way, Luigi tried to take the blame for their quarrel, and Mario had also tried to take the blame, resulting in another brief scrap.
"Brothers," huffed Mario once that scrap had concluded. "Can't live with them—can't live without them."
"D—n straight, Bro," Luigi had retorted.
But it all worked out in the end, as the two compromised, sharing the blame and conceding that both were in the wrong.
And they'd never gotten into it like that again.
Until a little over two weeks ago.
And Mario was still kicking himself over it.
In spite of the words that had flown between them, Luigi had met him halfway when they talked things out. He'd defended him from those four men. And don't get him started on that battle against Koopa, when he'd—
His train of thought was interrupted when he felt the mattress dip slightly, another body settling next to his. A pair of arms tenderly wrapped around him and drew him into a hug, and Mario breathed in that familiar scent.
"Mario…" He heard Luigi murmur. "My big bro—my wonderful big bro…"
"Luigi…" he whispered.
"Hey—I'm right here. I'm with you. I'm with you…"
Mario lost it then, flinging himself onto his other side, pulling Luigi closer and sobbing into his chest, releasing everything he'd kept inside of him since this nonsense began at the end of September.
"Just let it out, Bro…" Luigi encouraged, curling himself around Mario.
And that's just what Mario did, his body shuddering violently as he sobbed and wept until his breath was gone. His body fell limp in his brother's arms, the sweet embrace of sleep finally claiming him, and Luigi left kisses in his hair and dropped off shortly thereafter.
Four hours later, Mario woke up, feeling a great weight lifting itself from his chest and his spirit. He gave a low hum as he snuggled up against Luigi.
"Wow," he mused. "I really needed that."
Luigi awakened and gazed at his bro, eyes shining. "How are you feeling?" he asked.
"Like I'll get through this," replied Mario. "Luigi, I…"
"You're still thinking about it," realized Luigi.
"I am. I still can't believe that you forgave me, that you still had my back."
"What we're dealing with now is much worse," said Luigi, "and I'll always be at your side, even when we're at odds. All in all—I'm really glad you could finally let all of that out."
"Me, too."
"And if you feel that bad about our altercation that night, then you can buy me pizza sometime."
"No anchovies?"
"No anchovies. My stomach will thank you."
Mario chuckled softly. "In the meantime," he said. "Wanna order some breakfast?"
"Sure."
Half an hour later, the bros sat together on the bed, eating a breakfast of scrambled eggs, biscuits, bacon and chocolate chip pancakes, with chocolate milk and water to wash it all down.
"I have something to tell you," said Luigi, "and I really shouldn't be telling you this, on account of what we're going through now."
"If it involves him, then you should tell me," said Mario.
"Wow, first guess. Anyway—he has a fan club."
Mario nearly spluttered on his food. "You're serious?"
"Dead serious. There are some people who share his twisted views. This fan club even has a website and regularly scheduled meetings."
"How did you find out about this fan club?"
"When Falco and I were in Evershade Valley, he told me about it. He and the King had fallen into conversation, and the latter gave that bird the website URL. Yesterday, Falco browsed through it, and he warned me and the Professor. Now, I'm warning you."
"J—s," gasped Mario.
Luigi picked up a folded piece of paper and opened it. "He passed the URL onto us, as well," he went on. "His plan is to infiltrate the fan club, figure out what they have planned, if anything, and then pass word along to us. It's risky—but now I'm thinking it has to be done." He drew a long breath. "Falco's doing his own thing, but I don't want you anywhere near that website. Am I clear?"
I figured you'd say that, thought Mario. "Crystal," he replied.
"Okeydokey," said Luigi.
"Any news on the Amy front?" asked Mario.
"Let's just say—the two of us have come to an understanding," said Luigi, fishing a flashlight out of the pocket of his pajama pants. "Observe."
He strolled over to the window and clicked the flashlight on and off in brisk succession. As Mario watched in awe, another series of flashlight blinks appeared in the window across from them.
"Morse Code," he breathed. "Way to go, Bro."
"Best case scenario—we meet up tonight to settle things," said Luigi. "I don't feel like doing it after that turtle makes off with Peach."
"Do what you have to do," Mario said quietly.
"What about you and Master Hand?"
"I don't know," sighed Mario. "You're willing to forgive and forget, and I guess I am, too. But…"
"You don't have to say anymore," said Luigi.
"He's coughing up some black stuff, though," mused Mario. "Is it stress-related, or is it something more sinister?"
"Part of me doesn't want to find out," said Luigi, "but either way—we're in this together. Right?"
"Right. Insieme."
"Insieme."
1.1.1
In the Smash Mansion, Falco was in his room, on the phone with Gadd.
"Did you check out the website yet?"
"I did. They allowed me to view the site as a guest, but a lot of features are hidden."
"Typical."
"I really hope your plan works, Falco," said Gadd.
"Oh, believe me—it will."
"But now that I'm aware of this fan club's existence—I know what I must do."
"And what's that?" asked Falco.
"In anticipation of a potentially dire situation, it's time for me to design and invent a new Poltergust," Gadd replied. "It's the only solution I can think of at the moment. I was already brainstorming ideas when you told me about the fan club."
"Luigi could use a new Poltergust in the future," conceded Falco.
"For all I know, this fan club could be manned by ghosts—and powerful ones, at that. This club's president—you said they go by the name H.G.?"
"Yes."
"Why would they only go by their initials? Something's definitely up."
"KB confirmed that H.G. is a woman—so we know one thing about her."
"Have you seen her face?"
"No, but she communicated me when I first joined the club. Anyway, what do you have in mind for this new Poltergust?"
"I have too many ideas to list, Falco," said Gadd, "so I leave the answer to that question to you. What should I include in this new Poltergust?"
Falco started spouting out the first things that came to his mind. "Better crowd control," he said. "You said yourself that a lot of ghosts were ganging up on Luigi during his last adventure, so he needs a feature that'll give him breathing room. He'll also need stronger suction power, so he can vacuum up more ghosts at a time. And more defensive tools—I don't want more ghosts on his back than necessary. Oh, and a tether! A tether—to help him swing across chasms and the like. An improved Surge function to give him that edge over ghostly attackers. A Dark-Light Device that doesn't overheat. More accurate Boo detection. Something to prevent ghosts from dragging him around too much."
"All right, all right—stop!" said Gadd. "You're on a roll there, Falco! My creative juices are flowing like you wouldn't believe it!"
Falco heard the sounds of wild scribbling.
"What if—this new Poltergust was designed more ergonomically?" Gadd asked after a while. "I want him to maintain a steady grip on the vacuum's nozzle. And the apparatus—it needs to be more lightweight than the previous models and grant him better freedom of movement. How about—I give the apparatus a 'U' shape, with a hollowed-out middle? It'll give a more equal weight distribution and take the stress off of his back and shoulder blades."
"You might want to relieve his shoulders, too," Falco chimed in. "Maybe you can find a sturdy yet soft material for the shoulder straps? I want it to feel like—like it's hugging him."
"Hugging him?"
"Yeah."
"I was just gonna say that! But there's something else Luigi might need should another paranormal threat come his way."
"And what's that?"
"An extra pair of hands, of course!"
"Professor, he taught me the basics of using the Poltergust. And maybe with more lessons and practice, I'll be kicking all kinds of paranormal [bleep] alongside him! I could be the perfect helping hand—er, wing."
"Falco—you're too kind. I can see that you really wanna make this up to him. But I'm thinking about someone more along the lines of—nigh indestructible."
"An indestructible ghost-hunting partner," said Falco. "And where will you find such a partner, may I ask?"
"Why, from my own mind, of course," replied Gadd. "In conjunction with the new Poltergust, I'll be developing a brand-new communications system so I can keep him in the know at all times."
"What can be more cutting-edge than the Dual Scream?"
"I'll figure out something sooner or later."
"All right, Professor. My first meeting's tomorrow. With any luck, I'll meet the other members of the fan club in person and hopefully see this H.G. up close. And by the way—be on the lookout for her fan letters. That could also give us clues as to what this club is planning—and whether or not KB is in on it."
"Chances are that he is," said Gadd. "Work is calling, Falco. I gotta run. But thanks for checking in."
"Think nothing of it. Good luck to all of us, Professor."
"Ditto."
"Wait—before you go—should I tell Luigi that a new Poltergust is coming his way?"
"Not yet. It's still in the ideas stage. Besides, I want it to be a surprise. Our gift to him."
"Hm. Makes sense. See ya round, Professor."
"Likewise."
Falco hung up and made a beeline for the cafeteria, hoping to get some food in his belly before the day's matches began.
1.1.1
"You're not safe here," Remy said to Chad. "Those two troublemakers are planning something. My buddies and I—we can feel it."
"Of course they are," said Chad, "and they're probably plotting against Charlie, too."
"Charlie can certainly hold her own in a fight," said Jimmy, "but Steve and Stevie are unpredictable. Don't worry—we'll keep you safe."
"I have a man on the inside," said Chad.
"Jeff?"
"Shh. Yes. He knows that I've exposed myself to danger and certain death, and he's arranging a place for me to wait things out as we speak."
"We'll stay in touch with him," said Rory. "Should anything happen, you and Charlie will be the first to know."
"I knew I could count on you guys," said Chad.
"I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"
Charlie arrived on the scene, urgency on her face.
"Not really," said Chad. "What's wrong?"
"I spotted Crazy Hand with the two Steves," reported Charlie. "I couldn't quite hear what he was saying, but his conversation with them seemed—animated. He was worked up about something. Then, he gave them some sort of box, and that's when I left to pass the news to you."
"Thank you, Charlie," said Chad.
"So—do we have a plan, or what?" asked Charlie.
"Right now, the plan is to lay low until those three are dealt with," said Timmy.
"So, essentially—we watch helplessly from the sidelines while MH and you guys back them into a corner," said Charlie.
Rory pursed his lips. "It appears that way," he said.
"I think they want us to be afraid of them," said Chad. "If we cower, then we're playing right into their hands. But whatever. I'm sure MH knows what he's doing."
"He does," said Remy.
"And when the Bros return, then CH and the two Steves will have no place to hide," Rory confidently added.
"Until we get everything hammered out with Jeff, we'll need to stay close at all times," said Jimmy. "Safety in numbers, right?"
"Right," Chad and Charlie said in unison.
"And for God's sake—don't draw attention to yourselves," added Timmy.
"Of course," said Chad.
The six retreated into Chad's room and closed the door behind them, unaware that a sinister presence was nearby.
1.1.1
Today on Amy's agenda was a trip to the Gadd Science Museum. She needed to clear her head from yesterday's harrowing encounter with the Boos, and what better way than to check out the eccentric professor's brainchildren? An autumn breeze blew through her hair as she rode the tour bus to the museum, disembarking at the entrance and thanking the driver and the tour guide as she went.
Amy shrugged off her jacket as she entered the museum and proceeded to the front desk. "Ticket for one, please," she said.
"Can I interest you in one of our add-ons?" asked the ticket agent. "I recommend the Paranormal Exhibit."
Amy smiled. "Perfect. I'll take it."
After paying for her ticket, Amy began her trek through the museum's many exhibit halls. One of them depicted Gadd's early life as a young boy afraid of ghosts, yet determined to figure out what made them so frightening. He eventually grew into a young man and a brilliant inventor, majoring in Paranormal Studies at UConn and teaching the subject at Colombia University in New York City. McCarthyism and the Red Scare blacklisted the young professor, who inadvertently discovered a portal leading to Boo Woods, where he resided for much of his adult life. You know the rest.
During her tour, Amy glimpsed the prototypes for many of Gadd's other inventions. There were the models for what would become Stuffwell, the talking, sentient suitcase, and F.L.U.D.D., the sentient water-squirter/jetpack. It was interesting to see where these iconic inventions got their start and how technology allowed them to evolve, but what Amy was really interested in was the paranormal aspect of Gadd's studies.
After wandering around the main exhibit halls, Amy made her way to the Paranormal Exhibit, showing her ticket/pass to the security guards manning the entrance.
"Enjoy the experience," said the security guards before letting her in.
The Paranormal Exhibit was lit by blue and purple lights to set the mood. Right off the bat, pictures and drawings of different kinds of ghosts greeted Amy and the other museum-goers, along with brief descriptions of their characteristics. Several TVs played black-and-white and color footage of ghosts—Gadd's actual interactions with ghosts! Amy was taken by how handsome the professor was back in the day. Tall and square-jawed, with an angular face and a head full of jet black hair, always wearing his lab coat over a suit and tie. But while he'd aged, he was still working to discover more about these spooky specters, something he'd been at for 74 years and counting!
After looking over the ghostly gallery, the museumgoers were invited to explore replicas of the Professor's old labs. First, a replica of his old lab in the States. Second, a replica of his old lab in Boo Woods. And finally, a replica of his Bunker in Evershade Valley. Amy knew that it wouldn't be long until the latter location gave the Professor all of the knowledge it had to offer. And when that happened, Gadd would find another haunted location to set up shop and begin his studies anew.
While in these replicas, Amy and the other museumgoers could read copies of Gadd's actual notes, which the Professor himself had contributed. They could look at photos and hear audio recordings. They could sit in Gadd's swivel chair and take selfies, or professional photographers could snap pictures of them for a small fee.
But most importantly, the museumgoers could relive the most important chapter of Gadd's life—how he became the guiding light to another phasmophobe in his hour of need.
They leafed through photos of the Professor with Luigi and viewed home videos of mentor and mentee together. There were hours upon hours of footage detailing their exploits in Evershade Valley. Could the man in green be Gadd's successor? Probably. Would the two of them wind up working together in the future? Maybe.
The piece de resistance came toward the end of the tour. Arranged in a neat row down a brightly lit hallway were Gadd's previous ghost vacuums! Amy couldn't get enough of how big the initial models were, but the enduring characteristics were there—the red apparatus, the nozzle, a "stun" function, a flashlight function and functions for vacuuming ghosts and blowing air. The earlier models were cylindrical, as well, and they had wheels so that they could be pulled along the ground.
"Whoa…" breathed Amy as she walked through the hall of Poltergusts.
"There's a reason why Professor Gadd is considered the pinnacle of paranormal studies," said a voice.
Amy found herself face-to-face with a woman who appeared to be in her mid-to-late thirties.
"Hi," she greeted.
"Hello," said the woman. "I'm Dr. Davenport, the assistant curator."
"Nice to meet you. I'm Amy."
The two women shook hands before gazing upon the row of Poltergusts.
"He's a great visionary, don't you agree?" asked Dr. Davenport.
"Yes, ma'am. I do."
"It's okay—you can call me Dr. D."
"All right, Dr. D." Indicating the first Poltergust in the row, Amy asked, "Is that—the first-ever Poltergust?"
"Indeed, it is," replied Dr. D. "That's the Poltergust Mk. 1."
"How on Earth did he maneuver that thing by himself?"
"He didn't. He had some help. Two people would move the apparatus around while the other manned the vacuum."
Amy chuckled. "Thank God for evolving technology."
"I know, right? The Poltergusts grew smaller and smaller, but were also more efficient and easier to control. Like this one—the Poltergust 400. She's one of the last cylindrical-shaped Poltergusts." Dr. D led Amy to the Poltergust in question. "You could mount her and ride her around like a scooter, but unfortunately, she could overheat. A different-shaped apparatus was required to solve that problem. Thus…" She indicated the next Poltergust over. "…the Poltergust 500, the first Poltergust to be worn like a backpack."
The Poltergust 500 had a boxy shape, but the succeeding models had more streamlined design. Amy felt as if each Poltergust was telling her a story, and perhaps they were.
"This last one is the Poltergust 2000," said Dr. D. "All of these vacuums are still fully functional, of course. We do maintenance on them every two weeks, because you never know."
"No," said Amy. "You don't."
"The Poltergust 3000 is still with Luigi, and it's not our place to try to take her from him," said Dr. D. "We know that she holds a special value for him, as she helped him save Mario."
"And she helped him realize how brave he truly could be," added Amy.
"Yes. Precisely," said Dr. D. "Now, he has the Poltergust 5000, the first model to be equipped with the Surge, Strobulb and Dark-Light functions. So—whatever paranormal threat comes our way, Luigi will be ready."
"You bet," smiled Amy. "I really needed to see this exhibit. Yesterday, I toured Boo Woods, and the experience shook me up. They made comments about me and my brother, and I needed—I needed reassurance that there were people who'd keep us safe from them. I needed peace of mind."
She shook Dr. D's hand again. "Thanks for telling me a bit about these Poltergusts," she said.
"You're welcome," said Dr. D, "but I have a feeling that the story is far from over."
As if to underscore the assistant curator's point, the exhibit's final room was called "The Future". There was a floor-to-ceiling photograph of Luigi with the Poltergust 3000 on his back, one hand on his hip and the other holding the nozzle over his shoulder. Next to it was a floor-to-ceiling photograph of him with the Poltergust 5000 on his back, with a similar pose. Scattered about the other walls were photos of Luigi cosplayers and people interested in the world of paranormal science. On a desk were two books filled with musings on how ordinary citizens were affected by Luigi's actions. And on the way out was another book, with a cup of pens resting beside it, where the museumgoers could write their input, as well.
Amy and the other museumgoers proceeded into the exhibit's gift shop, where the former purchased a t-shirt and a mug with Gadd's face on it before walking to the museum's food court.
1.1.1
Meanwhile, Falco was online, looking through the fan club website, hoping to befriend some of the other members before Friday's get-together. He had a chat window open, hoping that someone would connect and start a conversation. Also, he browsed through various discussion forums, searching for a good place to chime in. Everything told the avian to expect the unexpected—so that's just what he'd do.
His cell phone rang.
"Yeah?" Falco answered.
"Hi, Falco." Luigi's voice was softer than it was yesterday.
"L? What's up?" asked Falco, slightly surprised.
"I wanna thank you for what you did yesterday," Luigi explained. "I'm glad you told me and the Professor about the fan club. You did the right thing."
"No thanks is necessary," said Falco. "When I saw that the club was legit, I realized I had to warn you two."
"And about my outburst—I was just so stressed," Luigi went on. "I didn't know what I was thinking, and so much was happening. Falco, I…"
"I know, Luigi."
"I want you to know that I trust you on this, 100%," said Luigi. "You'll find a way to catch wind of this fan club's plans before anything happens."
"I appreciate the vote of confidence," said Falco.
"And—I'm sorry I exploded like that. All I was thinking about was that you were at the forefront of this plot, and you were supposed to be my friend…"
"I'm being your friend now, Luigi. I don't want that psychopath putting his hands on you again. And I can't thank you enough for defending me from him and teaching me how to use the Poltergust."
"You're welcome."
"Luigi—where are we? In terms of our relationship?"
"I don't know," Luigi honestly replied. "I kept telling myself that I could handle what you confessed at the meeting, and you were nice enough to give me a preview beforehand. But the fact that you brought the Bennigan Brothers to Mr. Sakurai just—hit me, you know?"
"I don't want our time in Evershade Valley to be for naught," said Falco. "That's the main thing."
"Me, neither. Koopa's coming for Peach tomorrow, and maybe I'll clear my head while helping Mario rescue her."
"And after you come back?"
"Just like you said—one day at a time," Luigi softly replied.
Falco drew a shaky breath. "Oh, Luigi…"
An incoming video call notification cut him off.
"It's Gadd," murmured Falco.
"He's calling me, too," said Luigi. "Hold on."
Click.
Falco pocketed his phone and accepted the video call. Within seconds, his video feed was connected with both Luigi's and Professor Gadd's. The latter's showed the image of a blue-white liquid in a beaker.
"Uh—what are we looking at?" asked Falco.
"Ghost energy," Gadd explained. "I've just invented a simple, painless process by which I can extract spectral energy from ghosts. Liquid is its natural state, you see."
"Did you get that from the Evershade Valley ghosts?" asked Luigi.
"Not to worry—they volunteered," said Gadd. "I don't have to extract much, anyway. Have a look-see."
Gadd's camera swiveled around, revealing a Greenie floating in a glass pod of sorts. They waved when the saw the camera.
"What's the purpose of this?" asked Falco.
"I want to study the properties of ghost energies," said Gadd, "particularly, their interactions with non-spectral and non-paranormal matter and how they'll respond to certain stimuli. I have a feeling that my findings could help us."
"Help us combat this fan club?" asked Luigi.
"And help us with ghost-fighting in general," said Gadd. "An encounter with this fan club is inevitable, you two. We need to be ready."
"Amen," said Falco.
"I'll stop by every two weeks so you can check on my Poltergust," said Luigi.
"Regular maintenance is key," said Gadd. "Luigi, my boy—I was planning on telling you this later, but since you're here, I might as well tell you. I'm thinking about building you a new Poltergust. And hopefully, my research on ghost energies will play a role in it."
"He told me something along those lines, too," said Falco, "and I pitched him some ideas."
"The Poltergust 5000 is only two years old," said Gadd, "but with a regularly evolving threat, that technology could quickly become outdated. Facing ghosts with outdated ghost-fighting equipment is a death wish."
"We're taking this very seriously," Falco put in.
"Have you found out anything new?" asked Gadd.
"I'm trying to reach out to the other fan club members," said Falco. "Earn their trust before we properly meet tomorrow. At least try to play the part, y'know?"
"Where will they meet tomorrow?" asked Gadd.
"H.G. hasn't said anything," said Falco. "I'm sure she'll tell us well in advance. And whenever I can't physically make it, I can stream it via the website."
"What are you gonna tell them?" asked Luigi.
"I'll—I'll wing something. But I promise you—they won't suspect a thing."
"I get that you're doing this for me," said Luigi, "but the idea of you attending a meeting filled with people fanatically devoted to him…"
"I get it. But I can handle myself. I'm a mercenary, remember?"
"All right. Just—don't be afraid to call on me or the Professor for help, okay?"
"Okay."
Falco checked on the fan club page—more specifically, the chat window he had open. And there…
NotPaulBlart has joined the conversation.
Perfect!
SpaceAce: Hello, there.
"Falco? Are you still here?" asked Gadd.
"Yeah. Just—someone joined my chat. Hold on."
Falco muted the video call's microphone and waited.
NotPaulBlart: You're the new guy?
SpaceAce: I am.
NotPaulBlart: Hey, man! Welcome to the club! We're all happy to have you!
SpaceAce: Thanks. How did you hear about him?
NotPaulBlart: From a friend. And you?
SpaceAce: Gossip.
NotPaulBlart: Huh. Cool. So, what do you do when you're not thinking about our King?
SpaceAce: I'm a pilot.
NotPaulBlart: A commercial pilot?
SpaceAce: A fighter pilot, defending a faraway galaxy. But, I've been known to fly commercial aircraft.
NotPaulBlart: Awesome!
SpaceAce: What do you do?
NotPaulBlart: I'm a security guard.
SpaceAce: I could guess by your username.
NotPaulBlart: If you wanna get more specific, I'm the night watchman at a local strip mall in my area, and I enjoy my job.
SpaceAce: I enjoy my job, too. Care to give a newbie some pointers?
NotPaulBlart: There aren't a lot of rules here, aside from the usual. You know—no explicit sexual material, no abusive language, all that stuff.
SpaceAce: Uh-huh. How long have you been a King Boo fan?
NotPaulBlart: Uh—a couple of years. How about you?
SpaceAce: Not for very long.
NotPaulBlart: Trust me, you're gonna love it here.
SpaceAce: You seem rather certain.
NotPaulBlart: I'm not bluffing. Our fan club president is so cool! Every week, she organizes activities for us, she gives us pointers on writing fan letters—and at the meetings, she feeds us! I have to stream most of them because of my job, but still.
SpaceAce: Have you seen her in person? What does she look like?
NotPaulBlart: We never see her during our meetings. We just hear her voice.
SpaceAce: Oh.
NotPaulBlart: I'm telling you, she's really devoted to this fan club.
SpaceAce: I'll believe it when I see it.
NotPaulBlart: Have you met our King in person?
SpaceAce: I have—not quite a week ago.
NotPaulBlart: So—you saw how his enemies were treating him.
SpaceAce: It wasn't that bad. He gets free phone and Internet, and he gets to hang around with his fellow Boos.
NotPaulBlart: Yeah, only if he's well-behaved. AND they have 24/7 surveillance on him. He's a prisoner!
SpaceAce: Yeah, but he's getting by. He told me so himself.
NotPaulBlart: What's his secret?
SpaceAce: Well, if I told you, then it wouldn't be a secret anymore, would it?
NotPaulBlart: Guess not.
"Falco?" Luigi was saying. "Falco, come back."
Returning to the video call, Falco unmuted his mike. "Yeah?"
"Has anyone said anything?" asked Luigi.
"I'm connected with someone now," said Falco. "Someone with the screen name 'NotPaulBlart'."
"I—I didn't expect that type of screen name for a King Boo fan," opined Gadd.
Luigi pursed his lips. "Hey, Falco—share your screen with us," he said softly.
Falco quickly obliged.
Silence as Gadd and Luigi looked over the avian's chat with NotPaulBlart.
"Oh, wow," breathed Gadd.
"They actually think he's the victim," Luigi added in disgust.
"Only people as warped as them would create a fan club for that psycho," said Falco.
MightyMechanic has joined the conversation.
MightyMechanic: Howdy, stranger.
SpaceAce: Howdy.
MightyMechanic: How are you liking it here so far?
SpaceAce: Can't complain.
NotPaulBlart: He met the King personally.
MightyMechanic: Lucky you! It must've broken your heart, seeing him all cooped up like that.
SpaceAce: It did.
MightyMechanic: Will I see you tomorrow, space dude?
SpaceAce: Hopefully.
NotPaulBlart: He's a pilot.
MightyMechanic: Oh. Then getting here won't be a problem, will it?
SpaceAce: Guess not.
MightyMechanic: You're all right for a first-timer. You're all right.
MaestroWolf_Am has joined the conversation.
"I'm getting a lot of attention now," said Falco.
MaestroWolf_Am: Guten tag, newcomer!
SpaceAce: Hi.
MaestroWolf_Am: What brings you to this wonderful fan club?
SpaceAce: Curiosity. I really didn't think such a fan club was real.
MaestroWolf_Am: Well, it's real as real can get.
SpaceAce: So—you're a musician?
MaestroWolf_Am: I'm a master pianist, a composer and a conductor.
SpaceAce: How do you find time to kill on this website?
MaestroWolf_Am: My work has many flexible hours. I will upload my newest compositions onto the media library, and I invite you to check them out. I'm also on Apple Music, Amazon Music and Google Play.
SpaceAce: I'll be sure to check you out.
MaestroWolf_Am: Danke schoen, my friend.
SpaceAce: Anytime.
MaestroWolf_Am: So—are you an astronaut?
SpaceAce: Not really. I'm an intergalactic fighter pilot.
NotPaulBlart: Yeah, like Star Wars or something!
MaestroWolf_Am: Interesting. Since you're new, I might as well tell you that our fan club president will require you to undergo an initiation ceremony tomorrow.
SpaceAce: Like a frat?
NotPaulBlart: Kinda. It won't be that bad, though. She'll just ask you some questions, and then you'll get your identification card. It just needs to be official, y'know?
SpaceAce: Yeah, I know. Is Maestro gonna play piano for me, too?
MaestroWolf_Am: Don't push your luck.
SpaceAce: Lol.
MightyMechanic: But at least you'll get to meet everyone else!
SpaceAce: Yup.
"Falco…"
The avian looked back up. Gadd and Luigi stared intently at him.
"You're playing a dangerous game," said Gadd.
"Have you any better ideas?" asked Falco. "You told me that you could access the site as a guest. Are you able to stream the videos of the meetings? Or is that feature locked?"
"I did have access to the media library, where videos of previous meetings are stored," said Gadd. "A good fan club strategy is to keep it somewhat open to the public to encourage the influx of new members. As soon as I see that a new video's been uploaded, I'll watch it. And I'll see if I can find out more about those other users."
"Technically, they haven't committed any crimes, so we can't call the police," said Luigi. "Freedom of expression and assembly, and all that."
"That's where I come in," said Falco. "I'll attend the meetings and play the role of a King Boo fan to perfection. And once I get watertight evidence of a plot to hurt you or your loved ones, I'll come straight to you, and then we'll notify the proper authorities. That way, we can stop whatever they've cooked up before it even starts."
"We can stop them from breaking him out, period," said Luigi. "When I get back to the Smash Mansion, I'll talk to MH about regularly commuting between there and Evershade Valley."
"I'm sure he'll understand," said Falco.
"And I made it clear to Mario that under no uncertain terms will he look at that website," added Luigi.
Gadd nodded. "That's vintage Luigi to me," he said.
"Falco—if you have the time, I'd love to instruct you more on how to use the Poltergust."
"Of course I'll have the time," said Falco. "Better safe than sorry."
MightyMechanic: Hey, buddy, where'd you run off to?
"Hold on a sec," said Falco.
SpaceAce: Hang on, I'm reading some emails. Brb.
"Can't stall them for too long," murmured Falco. "Hey, Professor—could you see your way to making a Poltergust for yours truly? Or maybe souping up my Blaster and Arwing with some ghost-wrangling technology?"
"I'll think about it," replied Gadd. "Okay?"
"Okay."
"Minimize the live chat window and look around one of the forums," said Luigi.
Falco did so, clicking on the "Forums" prompt on the main menu. And the first forum on the page read "DIE LUIGI".
"Uh…" said Falco.
Luigi paled. "Click on that first one, Falco."
"Wait…" Gadd started to say.
But Falco had already obliged.
"H.G. started this thread," he reported. "It says, 'Luigi needs to suffer for what he did to our King. I want to tie him down in a dark room somewhere and cut him over and over and over with a long, sharp knife. Watch his blood slowly bubble up from his skin and trickle down his body onto the floor while he—screams—and whimpers—and hyperventilates'. My God. Look how many likes it has."
"J—s," said Gadd.
Luigi had a hand clapped over his mouth.
"A user named Doc_Potts replied, 'Yeah, girlfriend. Carve him up real nice. Just save some of him for Audrey.' Yeesh—I think we could be encountering some cannibals here—oh, wait. There's a picture of a giant Venus flytrap—I think that's the name of his plant. Still creeps me out, though. And there's another user named QSerps who posted a video…"
He clicked on it, and the video showed a barely lit room. Someone held up a cell phone before placing it on the ground next to a flashlight and a water bottle. Then, someone dressed as Luigi walked into the shot, barefoot and baring their midriff and looking disheveled. The person spotted the three items and made a dash for them, only for an echoing clink to sound and the person to suddenly jerk backward, a chain now attached to their ankle. Soft grunting sounded as the person struggled toward the items, and then came an ominous hissing noise, a purple cloud descending upon the area and the trapped soul desperately gasping, coughing and hacking…
Luigi was pale. "Dio—was that real?" he asked.
"I—I don't know…"
"It looked real," said Gadd, positively sickened.
"Uh—there's another video," said Falco, clicking on it.
This video was uploaded by a user named The_Soul_Chef. In it, someone placed a Luigi doll in a blender, affixed the lid to the blender, plugged in the machine and then moved to press the "power" button.
"Oh, God—oh, no, no," said Luigi. "I can't look at that. Exit out of that, please."
Falco did just that. Scrolling further down, he saw and then played a third video, uploaded by SeafaringHook. In that one, a life-sized Luigi doll was submerged in a large body of water. There was no music, noise or anything—just the image of the doll, lying still beneath the waves.
"Okay—I can't look at anymore of these," said Falco, exiting out of the forum thread. "Guys—this club definitely has it out for Luigi. They want him dead. Those posts and videos were clear threats on his life. I really need to get inside their inner circle before…"
"I know," said Gadd. "I know."
"Let me just…" Falco pulled his chat window back up and began to type.
SpaceAce: Hey, you guys. You should check out what's going on in the forum. Is that even allowed?
NotPaulBlart: What's happening in the forum?
SpaceAce: H.G. and a few other fans are talking about doing things to Luigi. Do you guys feel the same way about him?
MaestroWolf_Am: What things?
SpaceAce: Hurting him, cutting him. Stuff like that.
MightyMechanic: Oh. Well, can you blame us? Our King was just minding his own business until he showed up.
To rescue his brother—to prevent anything from happening to him! Falco wanted to type, but he had to maintain his cover.
NotPaulBlart: Guys, lay off. He's new here. Look, man—I know it's intense. It was intense for me when I first joined, too. But give it some time, and you'll get used to it.
SpaceAce: You're right. I didn't mean to offend you all.
MaestroWolf_Am: No offense taken. Gtg—rehearsal's coming up.
SpaceAce: K bye.
MaestroWolf_Am has left the conversation.
MightyMechanic: Guess I'd better split, too. Cya.
SpaceAce: Cya.
MightyMechanic has left the chat.
NotPaulBlart: I have to head to work in a few hours. TTYL.
SpaceAce: TTYL. Nice meeting you.
NotPaulBlart: Ditto.
NotPaulBlart has left the chat.
Falco glanced back at Luigi and Gadd, and for a few minutes, neither of them spoke.
"I…" said Luigi. "I hope you know what you're doing, Falco. I really, really hope you know what you're doing."
1.1.1
Later that afternoon, Amy strolled down the streets of the MK, a duffel bag slung over one shoulder. Turning a corner, she arrived at her destination, a dance studio, pushing through the doors and greeting the Toad manning the desk.
"How long?" asked the Toad.
"One hour, please."
Amy paid the Toad in cash, and in exchange, she received a key to one of the lockers.
In the women's locker room, she changed into dance-worthy attire, chose a locker to stash her stuff and pulled out two bottles of Gatorade. Slipping her phone and an aux cord into her pocket, she exited the locker room and headed to the studio proper, where the Toad helped her set up her music.
"I'll let you know five minutes before time is up," said the Toad. "Enjoy."
Amy nodded, and once the Toad returned to the front desk, she warmed up her muscles with some stretches, turned on her music and began to dance. Three songs in, she took off her socks and shoes, the floor cool-warm against the soles of her feet. For the rest of the hour, she dropped all of her inhibitions, dancing and whirling and sweating until she heard a brisk knock and the Toad's voice warning her that she had five minutes left.
"Someone's using the studio once your time has expired," said the Toad, "but if you wanna come back afterward…"
"Nah, I'm good," said Amy, switching to a downtempo playlist for some cooldown stretches.
"Okay," said the Toad before popping back out.
Amy finished off her first bottle of Gatorade and drained off half of her second before disconnecting her phone from the studio's audio equipment. As she pulled her socks and shoes back on, she heard the footsteps approaching the studio.
"I'll be out of your way in a minute," she said without turning around.
"Take your time."
The voice made Amy turn.
And there stood Luigi, his own duffel bag slung over one shoulder.
"Ah," she said. "We finally meet—officially."
"Hello, Amy," said Luigi.
"Hi, L," Amy said casually. "Do you come here often?"
"You can say that. And you?"
"I just needed a place to decompress," Amy replied. She finished tying her shoes and stood up.
"Me, too," said Luigi, and he was right. He was tightly wound following the discoveries he'd made earlier in the day and needed a release before it all got to his head.
"It feels good to move and sweat and not think," said Amy.
"Yes," said Luigi. "Yes, it does."
He offered his hand to Amy, who shook it.
"And by the way," Luigi went on, "Mario's not planning to usurp Master Hand or anything. So, you and your brother can sleep soundly tonight."
"That's not what we're worried about," said Amy.
"Oh? Then why are MH and Rory having you follow my bro around?"
"I—I can't explain," said Amy. "You wouldn't understand. Maybe when all of this is ancient history, you'll figure it out."
And she walked out of the room without another word.
As Amy changed back into her regular clothes, she heard Luigi getting situated and setting up his music. She knew that now wouldn't be a good time to argue with him on the subject. Maybe in a few days, she'd tried to explain herself, but she could tell that he currently had too much on his mind.
She finished the last of her Gatorade, disposed of her trash and make sure she had everything before exiting the studio, giving the Toad a nod as she went.
1.1.1
Night fell over the MK, all of the buildings lit up in neon lights and energy buzzing in the air. Two younger halves of two different sibling duos were getting ready for the conclusion to their brief game of cat-and-mouse—the inevitable confrontation where truths would be laid bare.
In her hotel room, Amy jumped into a quick shower and changed clothes, sweeping her hair into a sleek bun to keep it out of her eyes. After making sure her phone was fully charged, Amy laid her telescoping baton across her lap, thoroughly examining it and finding it shiny and unblemished. With a satisfied smile, she tucked the baton into her pants pocket, along with her flashlight and a travel-sized first-aid kit. Then, she walked to her window, gazing out at the city spread out before her like a nice, frosted cake.
Her phone rang, and she ran over to answer it.
"Amy," said MH's voice.
"Luigi's figured it out," Amy said calmly. "As a matter of fact, he's indicated an interest in meeting with me regarding the subject."
"It was bound to happen," said MH. "He's not stupid. And I'm glad I called when I did."
"Are you, now?"
"Listen to me very carefully, Amy. I have the names of those who participated in Project Nerf, along with confirmation of my brother's involvement and Sakurai's complicity. I worked with Chad, Rory and others to lay a trap for them."
"That's wonderful news," said Amy.
"It gets better. Five minutes after I hang up, Rory's gonna email you all of the info. Save a copy to your cloud, because you may need it."
"That way, you can plausibly deny violating the Smashers' confidentiality," realized Amy.
"Bingo. Those two are gonna find out sooner or later, so it might as well be sooner. But either way, Amy—you end this. Tonight."
"Understood," said Amy before ending the call.
Just then, a Facebook message from Luigi popped up.
Mushroom Park, basketball court. See you there.
Can't wait, she replied.
Dutifully, she waited five minutes before checking her email. And as MH said, Rory had sent her the attachments detailing vital information about Project Nerf. Amy slipped her phone into her purse and let out a breath. It was time.
She palmed her room key, exited her hotel room, rode the elevator down to the lobby and strode out of the hotel into the pulsing nightlife. A light skip was in her step as she walked the streets with total confidence. Tour buses still cruised along the roads, and restaurants were still open for those who wanted a late night bite. Amy practically glided past the activity around her, headed for Mushroom Park. It wasn't difficult to find, and the trek there helped her psych herself up for the inevitable.
Under the warmly lit street lamps, Amy located the park, striding down the gray-white sidewalk toward the basketball court. She slowed her pace slightly when she saw Luigi's figure, seated cross-legged on the floor, fiddling around with his cell phone. At her approach, he raised his head, his eyes lit up, and he smiled as he got to his feet.
"I didn't keep you waiting long, did I?" she asked.
"No, you didn't," said Luigi, "and I appreciate that."
He pocketed his cell phone, and Amy slung off her purse, setting it against a pole connecting one of the basketball nets.
"I take it your time in the dance studio did it's job?" asked Amy.
"It did. I feel a bit better now, and less is weighing on my mind," Luigi replied. "However, I still need an answer to the question I posed to you earlier. Why are you following my brother around?"
"I—we—Rory and I don't want him to make a mistake," Amy said quietly.
"Like what? Find out something you don't want him to find out?"
"That's not what I'm talking about," Amy patiently told him. "The situation with your nerf is getting to his head in the worst possible way, and he's already gotten himself in trouble. We just don't want him to get into even more trouble."
"So—that justifies you spying on him, listening to his every conversation and then following him here when he's trying to straighten things out."
"Look, Luigi—we're doing this for his own good," said Amy.
"Really? And what good is that? An excuse to get on his case again—for your brother and his buddies to rough him up again and for Master Hand to yell at him again?"
"What Rory did that day was wrong," Amy told him. "I can't lie about that. And MH went a little overboard when he lashed out at Mario. But the fact of the matter remains that Mario attacked two Smashers unprovoked, engaged in a fight outside of the tournament and vandalized Master Hand's car. What if he does something worse—something he can't come back from?"
"Like what? Breaking the law? You think he's that kind of person?"
"Frankly, Luigi, I don't know what to think," Amy replied.
"Can't you see this situation from his eyes?" asked Luigi. "He's witnessed a bunch of salty people jump down my throat because of my down throw, and rather than practice, they decided to whine to the higher-ups and have me nerfed. Then, after I was nerfed, they wasted no time using my matches as an excuse to relentlessly whale on me. Just as I was starting to regain my footing, two of them cornered me in the Training Room and beat me so badly that I had to go to the hospital. And by the way, those were the very two Smashers who Mario confronted the day after they attacked me!"
"Are you saying that you're happy he beat up those two?"
"I was far from happy, because I made him promise not to get back at them, and he quickly broke that promise!" Luigi swallowed back the memories of the row that night.
"I get it, okay? The two Steves are real pieces of work," huffed Amy, "but the way Mario's approaching this is counterproductive. He's asked Master Hand to betray the confidence of several Smashers, and whatever he intends to do with that information can't be good."
"Like I said at the dance studio, he's not gonna stage a coup."
"Then what is he gonna do?" Amy wanted to know.
"Honestly—I have no idea. But he's not gonna go postal on anyone, if that's what you're worried about."
"You're d—n right we're worried about that," Amy said, with heat. "Given what he'd done to the two Steves, to MH's car and to my brother and his three friends when they confronted him, I wouldn't put anything past him. And I wouldn't put anything past you."
Luigi raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean by that?"
"You walked in on Mario's confrontation with those four. You're still upset with MH for what he said to Mario. And you're still a bit steamed that the two Steves tried to vilify him. You'd do anything to have his back."
"D—n straight, Amy," Luigi said, a bit sharply, "which means that I really don't take kindly to anyone snooping in his personal affairs. He's been through enough as is, with so many people antagonizing him. Someone has to look out for him in this cruel world."
"That's what you're doing right now?" challenged Amy. "Looking out for him?"
"Yeah—that's exactly what I'm doing," Luigi replied.
The two stared each other down, neither willing to budge an inch and both trying to do what they thought was right for their older siblings.
"It looks like the two of us have unfinished business," Amy finally said.
Luigi nodded. "Looks that way," he conceded.
They drilled their hard stares into each other before Amy whipped off her jacket and flung it aside. Luigi simply rolled his sleeves up to his elbows. Then, Amy brandished the baton Rory had given her and pressed the button to extend it to its full length. In response, Luigi reached into his pocket and withdrew a slim, blue flashlight, which appeared to be a Maglite LED.
The two circled each other on the basketball court, their improvised weapons tight in their fists.
"There's still time to walk away," said Amy.
"Ladies first," Luigi replied.
"You're too kind," Amy said smartly, "but you know that's not an option."
"Neither is it for me."
Amy smiled tightly. "I shouldn't have expected less."
Luigi returned Amy's smile with an equally tight one, and then their battle began.
Metal rang against metal—once, twice, three times—the sounds echoing throughout the park as both sought for an opening. Nerves and neurons singing with muscle memory, Amy parried Luigi's strikes and heaved forward, sending him stumbling. He recovered his balance not long after, intercepting her returning strikes, the moonlight dancing wildly across their improvised weapons as they repeatedly clashed together. Amy slipped her baton under the Maglite and managed to get in a blow across her opponent's stomach. Luigi doubled over with a small gasp as Amy stood there, poised and waiting. His eyes glittered with determination as he straightened, and then Amy darted forward again, bolstered over managing to penetrate his defenses. They engaged again, Luigi fighting with more finesse and caution, deflecting with the tail end of the Maglite and attacking with the head. Amy also fought methodically, the lessons Rory had given her on the subject finally paying off.
Both of their weapons were locked together. With a deft movement, Amy twisted her baton clockwise and jabbed it forward into Luigi's left shoulder. Instantly, he reeled back, clapping one hand over the affected area. Then, he shook off the pain and charged back into the fight. The autumn air around them was brisk and a bit chilly, yet they were quickly working up a sweat as they continued to furiously go at it. Amy got in a few more strikes, but then Luigi gained a foothold and started landing blows of his own. Now, a Maglite was compact yet dense, so getting hit with it wouldn't be an enjoyable experience. But Amy would take hits from Luigi's improvised weapon like they were nothing at all. The man in green definitely had a tough fight ahead of him!
Dropping into a low stance, Amy now attacked her opponent's footwork, lashing out with blows to the legs or otherwise trying to trip him. Unfortunately for her, Luigi figured things out rather quickly and used his high jumps to stay one step ahead. He timed one jump so that he landed on the baton, pinning it to the asphalt, and then went on the offensive, forcing her to briefly abandon her weapon as she dodged, dove and rolled aside. Then, she knocked the feet out from under him with a low kick, buying herself enough time to retrieve the baton. Just as he got to his feet, she lunged forward, jabbing him hard, following up with a hefty blow to his side.
Bruised, bloodied and breathing heavily, the two combatants once again circled each other on the basketball court.
"It didn't have to pan out this way," said Luigi.
"I know," said Amy.
"Why can't you, Rory and Master Hand just leave my brother in peace?"
"We did what we had to do," huffed Amy.
"Well—that's refreshing," said Luigi.
"You have to believe me—I'm not the bad guy. And neither is Rory. Neither is Master Hand. There are a lot of worse people out there."
"You don't have to remind me," Luigi told her.
Amy kicked off her shoes and nudged them aside. She saw Luigi bring his Maglite up to his face and did the same with her baton. They stood there, neither willing to land the next blow but also unwilling to walk away from the fight.
Simultaneously, they dashed back in, their duel heating up as the minutes passed. Dancing in, dancing out, striking, retreating, feinting, dodging. The two fought fiercely but fluidly, moving about on the balls of their feet as they attacked, defended and parried, metal continuing to sing against metal. It was a miracle that the noise didn't attract any attention, but nobody passed through Mushroom Park at this time of night.
The battle was now in a stalemate, both fighters not giving ground despite the additional blows they'd sustained. Their improvised weapons were locked together, their arms slightly shaking with effort as they wrestled for an advantage.
"I meant what I said," said Amy, her voice a bit strained. "Rory, Master Hand and I aren't the enemies here."
"Yes, well—neither is Mario," Luigi retorted.
"You don't have to fear us, don't you get it?"
"And you don't have to fear my bro! He'd never hurt anyone unless they hurt him—or me—first!"
"D—mit, Luigi, would you just listen for a minute? We're not the ones you and Mario need to worry about. I was in Boo Woods yesterday."
"What in the Inferno were you doing there?"
"I hoped that by touring the area, I'd gain some insight into what you've endured thus far. And the Boos—they were really creepy and were saying all of this stuff about you. If there's anyone you need to look out for, it's them, because they're planning something!"
"They're always planning something," said Luigi. "They've always had it out for me and my bro."
"Look—my point is that they could be plotting to break their King out of his prison. And if he ever gets out, then that's no bueno!"
"You think I'm not aware of that?"
With a deft movement, Amy broke the stalemate, sending her opponent staggering. "Like I said, there are a lot of people you need to fear more than us," she said, "and that psycho is one of them."
Luigi recovered his balance and caught his breath. "I'm glad you realized the danger, and I appreciate that you're trying to warn me," he said, "but that doesn't excuse the fact that you, Rory and MH went so far as to spy on my bro when he came here to set things right."
Amy's face hardened. "All right, then," she said. "Let's finish this."
Again, they circled each other before moving back in, blows from both sides landing everywhere. Amy even managed to land an impressive volley of hits on her opponent. She jammed one end of her baton under Luigi's chin and briefly pinned him under one of the basketball nets, but a swift jab with his Maglite soon put an end to that.
The fight moved from one end of the basketball court to the other and back again, intensity blazing from the combatants as they kept exchanging and deflecting attacks. Their blows came harder and harder, and the sounds of gasps and grunts soon joined the clashing metal. By now, both of their faces were wet and shiny with sweat and blood, and there was hefty bruising, too. They were hot and cross and motivated by love and loyalty and devotion to their respective siblings.
With a fluid twist and a jerk, Amy sent the Maglite spinning from Luigi's hands. It went flying, landing in the grass near the basketball court. To Amy's extreme surprise, Luigi raised his fists, continuing the fight barehanded. Eventually, he moved in close, grappled with her, delivered several knifehand strikes to the body and managed to wrest her baton away.
They stood there, gasping for breath, their blood dripping onto the concrete, Amy's eyes blazing defiantly at Luigi as he held her own baton on her. Slowly, he lowered it, pushed the button which caused it to retract and handed it back to her. His guard remained up as she slipped her weapon back into her pants pocket. And her guard remained up as he slowly walked over to the grass and retrieved his Maglite.
Luigi's eyes searched Amy's as they basked in this uneasy peace. And then he spoke.
"Wanna get something to eat?"
Amy let out a breath. "I'm starving," she replied.
She put her shoes and jacket back on, and then she and Luigi left the park together.
1.1.1
They went to a 24-hour diner a few miles away from Mushroom Park, where the employees didn't seem to notice their battered states. After the two ordered drinks, salads and appetizers, Luigi got right down to business, solemnly facing Amy.
"I didn't just bring you here out of the kindness of my heart," he said. "Something tells me that you have some information that Mario and I would like to know."
Amy understood instantly. "You want proof of Crazy Hand and Mr. Sakurai's involvement in Project Nerf," she said calmly. Patting her purse, she added. "I have it here."
She reached inside her purse, only for Luigi to stop her with a hand over her wrist. His body was tense, and there was bright blue electricity writhing along his other hand.
"It's in my phone," she explained.
"Oh, okay," said Luigi, slowly relaxing. "Just—be careful. You could've sent me to the hospital with that baton of yours."
"Same thing with your Maglite," Amy retorted as she carefully extracted her phone from her purse, unlocked it, and opened the attachments Rory had sent her before sliding it over to Luigi.
Their drinks, salads and appetizers arrived, Luigi methodically perusing the information Amy had provided while the two ate.
"Where did you learn to fight like that?" Luigi asked after a while.
"Rory taught me," Amy replied. "And you?"
"I—kinda taught myself. But Mario helped me sharpen my fighting skills."
Amy smiled. "You should ask Master Hand to allow you to use your Maglite in a Smash Battle. You're pretty good with that thing."
"And you're pretty good with a baton."
"Rory gave me that baton, actually."
It was Luigi's turn to smile. "He's really looking out for you."
"He's looked out for me since we were kids," Amy said softly.
"Mario's done the same with me," mused Luigi.
The two locked eyes, understanding how they weren't so different from one another.
"If you look through my photo album, then you'll find the Rory I know," said Amy. "The Rory who your brother encountered—made a lapse in judgement. He doesn't do what he did unless he has a valid reason."
Luigi took Amy up on her offer, opening Google Photos and looking through the pictures of Amy with her brother.
"He's always been a cool big brother to me," Amy told him, "and I just wanna return the favor."
They ordered their main courses when a server approached them.
"But, you know, even after I've grown up and proven perfectly capable of handling myself, he still wants to protect me," Amy went on. "Sometimes, he just—needs to step back."
"I see what you're saying," said Luigi, "and maybe I shouldn't judge Rory too quickly."
"What do you mean?"
"Mario's done questionable things, too."
"Like beating up those two Steves and asking for confidential information?"
Luigi nodded. "And even before then, when he saw someone attacking me, he'd come at them hard. It was wrong, but to him, it would feel right."
"I admire his restraint, actually," said Amy. "If someone had beaten Rory bloody, then…" She didn't finish, nor did she have to.
"Can you at least understand why Mario did it?"
"Yes. But that doesn't mean I agree with it."
"I didn't, either. The two of us had words over it."
"If I can understand why Mario did what he did, then can you understand why I agreed to spy on him for Rory and MH? Who's to say that he won't go off again—and my brother winds up in the crossfire?"
"Well..." Luigi indicated his injuries. "If Mario sees this, then I'll have no choice but to tell him about our meeting in the park. But maybe—since you gave me some vital info, I can fabricate a plausible story."
"And if Rory sees this," Amy indicated her own wounds, "then he'll want answers, too. If you make up a story, then I'll make up a story. Deal?"
"Deal."
They shook hands as their main courses arrived, and then Luigi gave Amy her phone back.
"Now that we've met face-to-face, and we've had time to sit together and talk, I've learned some more about you, and you about me," said Luigi. "You wanna fight for Rory, and I respect and admire that."
"And you wanna fight for Mario, something which I respect and admire, too," said Amy. "That's why I wanted to warn you about the Boos."
"He—he broke down earlier this morning," Luigi said softly. "I just held him in my arms until he calmed down. When I found out what you were up to, all I could think was that my bro has been through enough."
"I'll talk to Rory and MH," said Amy, "but you don't need to fight them anymore. Fight the real enemies. Fight the people trying to antagonize the MK and the Princess. Fight the people who dare to mess with Mario."
"Don't worry," said Luigi. "I have a friend keeping tabs on—him. But I see what you're saying."
Amy nodded. "I hope that after tonight, we can be friends," she said.
"I hope so, too," Luigi replied.
They toasted with their drinks before finishing their meal, switching the conversation to lighter topics. After Luigi paid the bill, he gave Amy a ride back to her hotel and saw her safely in the building before heading homeward, too.
Please R&R.