Chapter 10: Confrontations and Answers

Leo walked through the front door in one of his rare happy moods. Just a half-hour and they'll be back. I can hardly wait, he thought. He walked through the double doors into the common room and saw Yosh, looking like he was about to throw up. Leo's face slid into one of sour surprise, and he asked, "What are you doing back so early?"

A chair that was facing away from him replied, "The plan had some modifications made to it." Mike leaned around the back of the chair, grinned, and said, "I'm baaaaack." He nodded, and Rose and Shelly, who had been hiding behind the doors, shut them and stood guard.

"What the hell is going on here?" Leo roared.

"I could ask you the same thing," Mike retorted, getting up out of the chair and standing a foot away from Leo.

"All I did was give you a simple plan to follow."

"Yeah, and a defective bomb to boot."

"I did no such thing."

"Bullshit. Shelly checked the wiring and verified that it had been tampered with, and right now, I'm more inclined to believe her than you."

"But what makes you think it was me?"

"That's such a stupid question, I'm not even going to dignify it with a 'Duh!'"

"Are you calling me a liar, little boy?"

Mike raised an eyebrow at the "little boy" comment. "I think it's obvious at this point."

"Well, what are you going to do about it, punk?" Leo asked, poking Mike solidly in the chest.

"Care to step outside?" Mike taunted.

"Downstairs would be less conspicuous, Mr. Tactics," Leo sneered back.

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Mike looked around the large, mostly empty room and said, "When this is all said and done, I really need to get a tour of this place. Since when did this room exist?" The five of them, accompanied by Joules, Peach, and Goombard, had moved down to the base's exercise gym, a room roughly thirty-foot square with pads for the floor. Leo was standing on one side, and Mike stood across from him.

Peach walked over to Leo and pleaded, "Leo, you don't have to do this."

"Someone needs to put that runt in his place," Leo replied. With that, he strode over to the corner of the room and picked up his, as well as his grandfather's, signature weapon, a large, wooden hammer.

Mike, who had just noticed Leo arming himself, shouted, "Hey! Hold on a second…" Rose wordlessly flipped Mike his staff. He caught it awkwardly and unenthusiastically said, "Gee, thanks." Mike held it with both hands at his side, level with the ground, pointing at Leo. He got his confidence back and loudly said, "Ready whenever you are." Leo replied by picking the head of his hammer off the ground and holding it in a battle ready position, the hammer resting on his shoulder, ready to swing.

"Oh man, Mike is gonna' get creamed," Goombard said softly. "Leo's stronger and weighs a lot more than him."

"True," Rose replied, "but Mike is much faster than Leo and is a foot taller. That combines with his staff gives him excellent reach. Mike'll be fine."

"You may be a little biased, Rose," Shelly cautioned.

"So are you two," she replied softly, not turning to face them.

Neither fighter seemed able to move. They both stood their ground about half the width of the room apart, sizing each other up. Mike, figuring he could afford to take some chances, rushed Leo, his long legs covering the fifteen feet to Leo quickly. Mike attacked by thrusting the end of his staff at Leo's stomach. Leo took his hand off the bottom of his hammer and grabbed the end of the staff with it. He then pulled Mike in and swung the hammer down in an attempt to brain Mike with it. Mike sidestepped it, trying to wrench his weapon free. He then kicked Leo's wrist, but Leo wouldn't let go. Leo's face showed a malicious grin as he picked Mike up with the staff. Mike looked down at his dangling feet and said, "Aww crap." In a last-ditch attempt, Mike swung his feet up and connected solidly with Leo's chin. Leo dropped the staff, and Mike landed on his back with a subdued thud. The staff rolled away from him, and Mike rolled the other way to avoid Leo's retaliatory attack. Mike quickly got up and, seeing his opponent between him and his weapon, said, "Hey, wait a minute! I'm unarmed."

Leo stared at him for a brief moment and said, "I don't need this to beat you anyway." He threw his hammer to the side and slid into a street-fighting stance.

"Gee, thanks," Mike sighed as his slid into more of a martial arts pose. And I thought I was screwed before… Oh boy…

The two combatants started to circle each other. Mike had learned from his past mistake and wouldn't approach Leo. Leo, finally growing impatient, started to inch towards Mike. When he was close enough, Leo swung at Mike's head. Mike sidestepped him and got in a quick jab to the side of Leo's face, and then he danced away as Leo reeled slightly. They repeated the pattern a few times, each time Leo came in with a harder attack, which Mike dodged and countered, each time managing to get in a harder counter-attack.

"I never thought I'd say this, but it looks like Leo's on the ropes," Goombard said.

"I've seen something like this before," Shelly said, not hearing Goombard's comment. "In a Bugs Bunny cartoon. The one where he's a matador."

"Unfortunately, that's where Mike gets most of his moves from: games, cartoons, and old kung-fu movies," Rose said.

"Where's an anvil when you need one?" Goombard asked.

Mike ducked under Leo's wild right hook and managed to trip him with a sweeping kick. Mike danced back and said, "Are you going to give up and admit the truth?"

"I can never, have never, and will never give up," Leo said darkly, getting up off the floor. "Especially not to the likes of you."

Mike sighed. "I figured you would say that." Mike stood his ground as Leo came to attack him again. Leo started in with a left punch, which Mike easily ducked. Leo smiled as he then lifted his knee and connected solidly with Mike's stomach. Mike doubled over, gasping for breath. Leo followed up by driving his elbow into Mike's back, sending the youth straight down, face first, onto the floor. Mike attempted to get back up, but Leo stopped him with a kick to the ribs that sent Mike flying. Mike landed face down halfway across the room.

"Leo!" Peach gasped, aghast at what he had done.

Rose hid her face in her hand and said, "Mike, how many times do I have to tell you? Roll away from your opponent."

Leo walked slowly over to where Mike lay. "Goes to show how little you know," he taunted.

Mike chuckled, albeit strained. "I know enough."

Leo's eyebrows arched. "Come again?"

"I know enough. For example … you're no hero … just some brute who got lucky … with his heritage." Leo's eyes widened in rage as he kicked Mike again.

Peach started to run out to Leo, but Rose stopped her. "What are you doing? Leo will kill Mike if he keeps that up," she said.

"I know, I know," Rose said, "but, in honor of Mike, I'm going with a long shot here. Don't worry. If things get much worse, I'll stop Leo."

During a reprieve from Leo's kicks, Mike croaked out, "Yeah… Big man… Kicking… someone… who's down." Leo merely responded by corking up one final crushing kick and delivering it squarely to Mike's ribs, sending him flying. Much to everyone's surprise, Mike righted himself in the air and landed on his feet next to his staff. "Someone ought to teach you some manners."

"Bingo," Rose said. "This ought to be fun."

Mike looked down and kicked his staff up into his hands. He then approached Leo, twirling the staff slowly about himself. Leo stood his ground, unsure if this was some sort of hyper-bravado, last-ditch effort on Mike's part, or something more. Mike had learned, however, and didn't give Leo time to think. Mike whipped the staff around, hitting Leo in the ribs. He brought it back, spun the other way, and thwacked Leo's knee. Next, he smashed the butt of the staff into Leo's stomach, doubling the older teen over. Finally, Mike leapt into the air with a shout and slammed the staff down onto the back of Leo's head, knocking him out cold. Everyone stood in stunned silence at the surprising come back. "That's one hell of a second wind," Goombard said, breaking the silence. A brooding Mike wordlessly turned and headed out the door, discarding his staff along the way. Rose awoke from her stupor and ran after him.

After they had left the room, Peach ran over to her brother, kneeled down and checked him over. "Good, he'll be okay," she said to herself. "Yosh, Shelly, come over here and help me get Leo to his room."

Upstairs, by the front door, Mike was getting his coat on. Rose came up behind him and asked, "Where are you going?"

"Out," Mike said shortly.

"Anywhere in particular?"

"No. Just out."

"Are you going to come back?"

"No, this building only has the only safe way I have of getting back home. Why in the world would I want to come back?" Mike shot sarcastically.

"Don't get so bent out of shape, Mike."

"Why not? My parents are on the run from a megalomaniac turtle, I just found out that I'm the grandson of a great hero, and I just won a fight that I had no right winning in the first place! Does that sound like something I should be calm about?! Rose, most people would have died from a beating like that! Instead, I just get right back up like someone had cast Life3 on me! WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED!"

"I'm… I'm not sure…"

Mike realized he had gotten out of hand, and cooled down a few degrees. "Neither am I, Rose. I just need to get out of here and think." With that, Mike put the hood of his coat up and stepped outside.

"Be careful, Mike…" Rose whispered.

Meanwhile, Peach was busy bandaging Leo. She took great care, and hoped that she wasn't aggravating his injuries, but with Leo knocked out it was hard to tell. Rose stepped into the room and asked, "Will he be okay?"

"Yes," Peach replied, "but Mike worked him over pretty badly."

"I wouldn't call a three-hit-combo 'working him over', but I'm glad to hear he's okay. I don't think Mike really wanted to hurt Leo that badly."

"How did Mike do that anyway?" Shelly asked. "He was probably hurting worse that Leo is now, and yet he got right back up like nothing had happened and beat Leo easily."

"Speaking of Mike, where is he?" Goombard asked.

"He went for a walk," Rose said.

"A walk?!" Yosh shouted.

"You can go try to get him if you want…"

Yosh shut up almost instantly.

Mike looked up from his feet and took a look at wherever it was that he had ended up. It was the kind of street where you could always see parked cars, but never anyone driving down it. The sky was dark, and only a few people could be seen walking on the sidewalks, trying to take as little time outside as necessary. "Hmm," Mike mused to himself. "This looks like the setting for a bad film noir scene… Or a good Max Payne level." He shrugged. "Same difference." Mike slogged onward, his oppressing thoughts weighing down on his shoulders, making his steps heavy. Before, he may have been tempted to sit down until the feeling passed, but not now. Now he knew he had to go on, he had to fight. It was his only option now. His parents had fled, he couldn't go home. The only family he had left was back in the building he had just left, but he couldn't go back. Not yet, anyway. There was still something else bothering him. The kind of thing that the closer you looked at it, the less it came into focus. Mike decided to ignore it, that's the only way he could solve it. He left it on the rearmost burner of his mind to simmer. Snapping back to what was happening now, Mike stopped at a newsstand. He looked over the various Bowser-affiliated digests and newspapers, the wolf's vain attempts at dressing himself up as little red riding hood while he carried both worlds to hell in a hand basket. Mike figured his little escapade wouldn't have even gotten on the back page, if he was lucky. Bowser had a way of turning even the worst losses into miraculous rescues or windfalls, as if the hand of God himself had touched him.

But then again, when one could do what he had done, and get away with it, many people would call that a god.

Or a devil.

As some people would say it, same difference.

Mike was drawn out of his morose line of thought by a tug on the bottom of his coat. He looked down to see a little Koopa girl holding a basket of flowers. He kneeled down and asked, "How can I help you?"

"Do you want to buy a flower?" she asked. "Only one coin."

"Sure," he said, dropping a coin in her hands. "Strange to find flowers here, though."

"My mommy grows them behind our house," she replied.

"Neat. Well, have a nice day," Mike said, getting up and walking away.

The Koopa looked down into her hands and noticed that the coin that Mike gave her was much more that she asked for. "Hey, wait!" she said, looking around, seeing no one. "Mister…"

Mike walked out of the alley he had ducked into and onto a parallel street, a call of "Thank you, young man" following him from the old woman he had given the flower to. In a world covered in storm clouds, someone had to help facilitate the silver linings, or so Mike believed. However, a rumble in the distance interrupted even this happy train of thought. Mike looked up into the sky and was promptly hit in the face by a big oily raindrop. Mike couldn't help but chuckle at the irony of it all, like whoever was up there was trying to mess with his mind. His humor turned to disgust, though, when he realized that this wasn't the kind of refreshing spring showers so common to his home. This rain was gray and black, and fell in huge balls, not drops. Instead of refreshment, it only left people with a feeling of violation, the scuzzy feeling you get when your conscience catches up with you. When he was younger, Mike remembered hearing some of the other kids referring to rain as God's tears. Mike figured this rain was probably more akin to some other bodily fluid and hurried to get out of the rain and inside someplace dry. Not just to get away from the grime, but also to get away from the cruel reminder that he was a stranger in a strange land and was a whole dimension away from home. He looked up and realized that he had walked into a bar. Mike turned around and looked out the door, contemplating taking his chances at another building.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. They say that stuff in practically instant death once it gets coming down hard enough," a voice called from deeper inside. Mike walked in, playing it Bogart. Nobody he passed seemed to pay him any mind, however. This was the kind of place people went to block out the troubles of everyday life by surrounding themselves with moats of whisky and cheap booze. Mike stepped up to the bar and took a seat on a stool. The bartender, a burly, middle aged man, asked, "What'll it be?"

Mike was sorely tempted to say "Milk", but he digressed and simply said, "A soda, please."

"What kind?"

"Anything without the word 'Bowser' in it." In most places, that sort of comment would probably end a person up in jail, or worse, but here it slipped by without a second thought.

"Those are pretty bold words for someone who just came in off the street," the person next to him said.

Then again…, Mike thought. The bartender set Mike's drink in front of him, and Mike thanked him. Turning to the speaker, he said, "Please just stop right there. I'm not in a good mood, and you may get hurt."

The speaker pulled the hood of his cloak down, revealing his face. He was a Toadstool, a surprising enough sight in itself, especially so on this side of the warp. When Mike stopped to think about it, he hadn't even noticed him as he sat down, which was probably the impression desired. His face looked worn and leathery, with creases and wrinkles all over, concentrated around his eyes and mouth. His voice was still high pitched by any standard, but not annoying so. He held a hand up defensively and said, "You don't want to hurt me."

"…" Mike wasn't quite sure if the joke would carry, but he tried anyway, "Can I still sell you Death Sticks?"

"And you said you weren't in a good mood."

"Can't help a quick one-liner."

"So what brings you here, Mike?"

Mike turned back to his drink. "Just thinking."

"Leo giving you a hard time?"

"Yeah." Mike sighed.

"How's Rose?"

Mike looked up. "She's good. It's nice to see her…" Mike spooled the conversation back a few minuets, thinking about something. "…again." Something clicked, and he asked, "How do you know my name?"

"I know a lot about you… and the others."

"Okay, but I believe the question was 'how?'" Mike said, enunciating.

"That's not important right now."

"Well then, who are you?"

"Again, that's unimportant."

Mike sighed, frustrated. "All right, what is important?"

"You are."

Mike looked down at his soda, mumbling, "Cheesy sense tingling!"

"I know that sounds trite and cliché," the other said, apparently missing Mike's comment, "but it's true. Without you, that group will just fall apart and fail. All of you need to stand together if you are to have a chance."

"Together we are greater than the sum of our parts."

"Exactly. Leo is the strength, Rose is the spirit, Peach is the heart, and you are the mind."

"But Shelly's much smarter than I am," Mike said.

"True, but you are destined to be a part of the group that fights Bowser. She's just been swept up in the stream of fate of Leo and Peach. Same with Yosh and Goombard."

"Hmm…" Mike wasn't quite sure what to say.

"I know you came here for answers, but I can't give you any. Not yet. You'll need to find most of them yourself."

"No offense, but it's not like I came here specifically to talk to you. I was the only source of answers I was expecting to use."

"Oh," the other person said. "Sorry, I get on a bent sometimes."

"Not a problem, Obi-Wan." Although he sounds more like Yoda, Mike thought to himself.

"Heh… You know, Mike, your grandfather would have been very proud of how far you've come. He was a great man."

"Yeah. How…" Mike thought for a second, "On second thought, never mind."

"You're learning," the Toadstool said, smiling.

Suddenly, there was a loud knocking on the front door. "Open up in there!" a voice from outside yelled. Mike looked over to see what all the commotion was. The bartender came out from behind the bar and walked up to the door.

"May I help you?" he asked.

"Open the door!"

"May I ask why?"

The voice sounded confused, "…Because I asked."

"Do you have a search warrant?"

"No…"

"Well I'm sorry gentlemen, but I can't let you in here."

"But…"

"You know the rules. No warrant means I get to shoot you as soon as you get in here."

"But…"

"You know what? My trigger finger is feeling rather itchy today."

There was a disappointed silence, followed by, "We'll be back."

Walking back to the bar, the bartender deadpanned, "Oh, woe is me. The goons will be coming back." Looking at Mike, he said, "Crap, he did it again."

"Who? Me?" Mike asked, looking around.

"No, your friend," the bartender replied, returning to his customary position behind the bar. Mike looked at the vacant stool next to him. "He always does that," the bartender continued, "disappearing when I'm not looking. He hasn't paid his tab in over three months."

"Well, I guess I better get going, too," Mike said, laying some coins on the bar.

"Use the back door," the bartender said, pointing to a door at the end of the bar. "It leads out to an alley and it's a bit less conspicuous."

"Thanks."

Mike was walking back to the base, feeling much better about himself. He must have seemed like an easy mark, because someone called out to him, "Hey, kid, want to play a game of chance?"

Mike grinned and walked over, saying, "Ah, but is not life a game of chance in itself?" The small crowd around the table parted to let Mike through. Mike grabbed the chair in front of the card table, spun it around on one leg, and sat down on it backwards. It was now that Mike saw who it was that called out to him. Mike had to try exceptionally hard not to gape, as she was an anthropomorphic crocodile, with white scales on the underside of her jaw and, or so Mike guessed, down her stomach and tail. The rest of her scales, peculiarly enough, were a light shade of pink. Guessing her lineage, Mike suddenly wished he hadn't left his bazooka at home.

"You seem a bit… surprised," she said.

Looking around a bit, Mike replied, in a corny Australian accent, "Aww crikey!"

Mike suddenly found a claw hovering an inch from his face. The con artist said, "Continue that statement, and I will rip out your larynx through your nose."

"That's snot very funny."

She sighed. "Quite the joker, eh?"

"People say I'm a card."

"Interesting bridge between subjects."

Mike smiled. "Quite the compliment coming from a rummy." She sighed again. "Come on, admit it," Mike continued, "I'm a cut above the rest."

"Look, are you going to play or not, kid?" she asked, frustrated.

"I've been playing this whole time, but sure, let's continue on with your game."

"Fine." She pulled out three shells and a red marble. "I'm assuming you've heard of the shell game?"

"Hasn't everyone?"

"You'd be surprised."

"How much to play?"

"Five coins."

Mike placed his money on the table and said, "Ok, now you put five coins on the table."

"Why?"

"Well, why should I play if I can't win anything?"

"Not everyone wins."

"True, but the possibility needs to be there."

"Fine." The crocodile put five coins on the table next to Mike's.

Mike rested his forearms on the small table and said, "Shuffle the shells, oh scaly one."

"Fine," she said, placing the marble under the center shell. She then started to move the shells around. Mike stared intently at the shell the marble was under, knowing that it wouldn't be there when it was all said and done. After a minute of shuffling, she stopped, rested her shoulders on the table and her snout on her claws, and said mockingly, "So then, oh soft-skinned one, where is the marble?"

"Well… I'm pretty sure it's in the center one still."

"Really?"

"Well, yeah." Quicker than she could react, Mike grabbed the two outside shells and flipped them over, revealing nothing. "It's not under these two, so it must be under the middle one. Tootles." With a smile and a wink, he scoped up the 10 coins and walked away.

A few minuets later, Mike knocked on the front door of the base. After a moment, Rose said, "Who's there?"

"I'm the viper. I've come to vipe your vindows," Mike said in a German accent.

The door opened a crack. "Mike?"

"Yes?"

The door opened, and Mike walked through. He was promptly hugged by Rose, who said, "I'm so glad you're safe. Where'd you go?"

"A bar."

"A bar?" Rose paused for a second, "Please tell me you didn't order a milk."

"Nah, I had a root beer. How's Leo?"

"He just woke up. Come on." Rose led him upstairs and into Leo's room, where Leo was reclined on his bed, bandages wrapped around his forehead and chest. Peach was sitting on the bed next to him, giving him something to eat.

Looking up, she said, "Mike, you're back."

"Back?" Leo asked.

"Oh, I just had some running away to do," Mike said, sitting on the end of the bed opposite Peach. Leo snorted. "So… Why'd you do it?" Mike asked after a while.

"Do what?"

Mike blinked a few times, the said, "Do we have to go over this again?"

"I'd rather not talk about it."

"That's a shame, because I'm not going anywhere until you do."

"Mike," Peach said, "Leo needs his rest right now."

Leo sighed, "Peach, I'm your big brother, you don't need to protect me. I'll tell them."

"So go ahead," Mike said.

"Roughly a week ago, I was approached by some… operatives."

"Operatives?"

"Of Bowser. They gave me an 'interesting proposition.' Basically, if I gave them you, they'd deliver my parents."

Mike desperately wanted to say, "And you bought that?" but figured it wouldn't really help out much.

Unfortunately, Rose didn't share his sentiment and said, "And you believed that?"

"Yes, I did." Looking at Mike, Leo continued, "But then you had to go and screw everything up."

Standing up, Mike said, "Well, next time you want to put me on a suicide mission, at least have the common decency to ask me first." With that, Mike walked out of the room, Rose right on his heels.