Sheez, what a week this has been! First finals, then new classes started, and the icing on the cake was the fact that Lemonade got ripped off FF.net! That was really a blessing in disguise, though, since I was sick of updating that one. I kinda wish I knew what rule I violated, though…
So here's chapter seven! I'm not sure if "Titleless" will end with this chapter or not. I think I'll add one more which may give many of you readers a glimmer of hope. Thank you for your reviews, by the way!
Ron, thanks for reading. I know yaoi ain't your style, but I don't think I have any in this chapter. No need to hide your eyes. Boethas, I understand your craving for happy endings, but remember that it isn't over yet! You may get a happy one in the future. Turquoisefox, I did imply the r-word. Geez, can I say it in a PG 13 fic? I'm all paranoid since the other one got pulled off. But yes, it's implied. I'm sick, I go for that kinda stuff. Morias, as always, glad you like! You seem to be my biggest and perhaps only fan at the moment. Hope this chapter satisfies your craving for suspense and the longer the reviews, the better.
On with the chapter!
Though everyone was upset over the murders, Popo was perhaps the saddest Smasher of them all. He was terribly lonely without his partner and best friend, Nana. She had died at the blade of the serial killer many weeks ago. Her death meant that Popo now had no one to talk to, no one to laugh with, no one to eat with, and no one to do his laundry.
Lugging a basket much larger than he, the little Ice Climber made his way down the flight of steps toward the basement. It was set up somewhat like a Laundromat down there and there were rows of washers and dryers set up at every wall. Marth was apparently busy doing his laundry, too, because he didn't greet Popo as he rushed past, even after the Ice Climber chirped a hopeful "hello." It was funny, he thought, that the Fire Emblem warrior should be wearing his full armor and lugging his sword around at this time of the day, especially since all Melees had been canceled.
Popo and Marth passed each other without incident, and the little Smasher went down to the closed door of the laundry room. My, was it hot down here! He lifted one hand to wipe the sweat from his brow as his other hand went for the doorknob of the laundry room. He struggled to balance his basket with one hand as he turned the knob with the other. Popo didn't notice the misty smoke withdrawing under the crack of the door.
Without thinking, he pulled on the warm knob and yanked the door open. A wall of fire threw him back into the staircase at a spine-snapping angle. It was a backdraft. Popo was stunned, pain screaming through his body. Dear God, had he snapped his spine?! The Ice Climber struggled to lift his broken body up but it was hopeless. The encroaching flames came over him and he yelped out in pain as the biting, angry fire consumed his body.
--
"Hit me." Oh, that was so tempting. Falco desperately wanted to reach over the table and strike the Starfox leader across his furry muzzle, but he restrained himself. He flicked a card across the table and Fox quickly snatched it up, grinning.
"Twenty," he murmured as he spread his cards on the table. Falco winced in pain and pounded his feathered fist on the table. "Damn it, you're cheating, McCloud!" "I prefer to call it luck," the fox smirked. "Now come on, pay up. You owe me two hundred now." "No chance, this game isn't over yet!" Falco was obstinate and he refused to lose to Fox. He dealt him another hand.
The two sat in silence at the card table, shrouded in a thin veil of smoke. That was odd; neither of them had any cigarettes lit. Fox's nose tickled at the scent of the smoke, though, and Falco's eyes were burning. They exchanged silent glances and slowly put down their cards. Was something on fire?
Rubbing at his tearing eyes, Falco went to the dorm room door to go out and see what was wrong, but his feathered fingers could only turn the knob so far. He gulped, turning back to Fox with a wide-eyed stare.
"I-it's locked," he stammered, "from the outside."
--
Roy felt like a pig on a spit. It was roasting in the bedroom for some reason and, even though he was naked, he felt unbearably hot. Sweat had beaded on his forehead and was now trickling down the sides of his face. Had Marth turned the thermostat up? The fire warrior groaned as he struggled to roll onto his back. His torn muscles ached from the strain and he nearly broke his neck with the collar and chain, but he succeeded in his efforts after a bit of a struggle.
That's when he noticed…
Roy's eyes widened and his jaw dropped as he saw the smoke pushing through the crack beneath the dorm room door. Panic immediately consumed him. Something was burning! He twisted and turned and wrestled against his bonds, but it was useless. His arms were too sore to be able to wrench his neck free from the collar. He was stuck! "Fire, fire!" Roy yelped, "Someone get me out of here!!"
Even as the flames ate through the door, Roy continued to cry out and to struggle. "Someone, please! Help me, I'm stuck!" After several minutes of yelling, though, it became obvious that there was no one left to come to his aid. With a cry of determination, Roy strained to sit up and attempted to break the collar around his neck, but all he managed to do was throttle himself. The fiery warrior fell back against the mattress, panting, as the flames crept closer.
The bed sheets blackened and turned to ash as the weakening bed frame groaned under the strain of supporting Roy's weight. He closed his eyes and cried out as he felt the fire licking at his arms. "Please, gods, don't let it fall, I'll burn to death!" Just as he began pleading with the higher powers, though, one of the bed's legs gave out, followed by a second and a third. The greedy, gluttonous fire now swept over him like a suffocating blanket.
Silhouetted against the chilly winter sunset, Marth grinned as he heard the final cry of death from inside the inferno at the Melee House. The wail of sirens announced the arrival of the fire companies and his cue for departure. "Good night, my fair friends, my dear Roy," he whispered. "Sleep well and rest in peace." Marth bowed his head for a moment of respect before turning away and strolling off into the dusk.
I'm not going to get set on fire too, am I? I haven't yet posted that the fic is yet finished because, well, it isn't. I think it merits one more chapter to tie up some loose ends. What loose ends, you ask? Oh, you'll find out. Review, please!