Chapter, what is this, three? AIE, WHAT A BORING SECOND PART. I'm honestly starting to lose my purpose here. o.o I completely forget where I'm going with this story. I guess that all depends on how this part turns out…
A thank you to the grand total of three people who have reviewed. I always wait for three reviews 'fore I continue with my chapters… To Morias, I personally think that my descriptions are inadequate. e.e But then I remember that this isn't an English paper and I'm like, "I'll go easy on them." I do love your story to death and I respect the author's wishes with ending it there… n.n But I want to see more! To Turquoise fox, thanks for clearing that up. Moral of the story: never listen to me about anything, whatever I say is probably just hearsay. And, to Thais (and Culumon), thanks so much for reading! Enjoy chapter three, everyone.
Roy's heart was in his throat as he ran through the deserted halls towards his dorm room. His eyes were running with tears as they struggled to flush out the terrible scene they had just viewed. The dead creature that had once been Pichu had been completely intact with the exception of his right paw. That could only mean one thing…
Marth silently lifted his aqua eyes as Roy burst through the door to their room. The redheaded warrior breathed a heavy sigh of relief upon finding Marth safe. The prince was seated on the bed in his tunic and leggings and with the hem of his shirt he was polishing his sword. Marth opened his mouth to question his friend but he was startled silent as Roy caught him up in a strong embrace.
"You're all right," Roy whispered as he hugged Marth tightly. He was afraid that his prince would slip away if he didn't hang on. "Of course I'm all right," Marth calmly replied, looking down at his friend in confusion. Roy was in a cold sweat; his eyes were dilated in fear. "Marth, something terrible is going on," he choked out, "and we have to go see Mario right away!"
Marth didn't have a chance to argue. Roy pulled him up and rushed him out of the dorm room before he could say a word. The warm blade of Falchion rested on the edge of Marth's bed, it's secret very well-kept.
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Mario sat on his bed, sighing to himself as his head rested in his chubby little hands. Oy, it had been a hell of a day. Nintendo Security had been in and out of the House all afternoon asking relentless questions of the Smashers. They had scared the children and had gotten the adults – particularly the villains – riled up over this murder. Every one of the Melee members had a solid alibi: they had all been battling at the time of Pichu's murder.
Every Smasher but one.
Mario had no reason to disbelieve Marth's claims. The prince said that he was in his room polishing his sword at that time in the morning. His alibi was plausible, since Marth was such a stickler for cleanliness, but he had no witnesses. The outdoor cameras had picked up no intruder, so who else could have done it?
It was nearing nine o'clock and Mario still hadn't eaten dinner. The portly plumber lifted his head and groaned, his stomach echoing with a grumbling chorus. He stood, placing his cap over his thinning hair, and wearily trudged out of his room and down the hall.
When things like these happened in the House, the curfew for all Smashers was eight thirty. The entire house was dark and Mario found his way only by memory. A right at the end of the hall, then a quick left, and the kitchen was the third door on the right. The windowless room was pitch-black this late at night and the plumber couldn't see a thing. Thus, it was no surprise that he tripped over something in his way and landed face-first on the floor. Mr. Nintendo grumbled as he picked himself up off the floor and fumbled along the wall for a light switch. Presently, the room was flooded with bright light and the entire area before Mario was bathed in crimson.
Mario felt his breath catch in his throat as the gory murder scene flooded his mind with images of horror. There was not a single inch of the whitewashed kitchen that wasn't splattered with thick red blood. Whatever creature had been killed must have been very large because of the profuse amounts of gore. It was everywhere. The creature must have been killed a while ago, because most of the blood was already coagulated. The carnage and the shredded carcass that was pinned to the kitchen table with carving knives smelled of stale blood and fresh death.
Though he'd seen countless adventures and battled hundreds of foes, Mario couldn't hold it in. With a sickly groan, he leaned forward and gagged himself over the severed right hand of the former king of the jungle: Donkey Kong.
No, there's no connection between these nonhuman murders, I just didn't feel like killing off anyone besides Pichu and DK. Review! I always wait for three reviews before I even start working on the next chapter.