I'm so sorry! I was trying to revise errors and the wrong chapter went in! Here's Five!
A/N Hey all! I'm glad you liked Chapter Four, I had so much trouble with it (--;) but it's done. Anyways there aren't that many chapters to this story, maybe about seven or eight by the way it was planned, but hopefully it still feels like it's not moving to fast. I try to keep surprises and plot twists in each chapter, however I do get worried it seems like the story is hasty. Oh well.
NOTE: Whatever this chapter may suggest to Yaoi fans this is not yaoi
Review Responses
Remorse
The Silver Kitty: I couldn't agree more! Thank you. Wait! Don't die! New chapter XD
KawaiiYuki: It's… wait for it… ah just scroll down and find out. Thank you for the review!
Zekoi: That's such an awesome guess! You're so close but it's not. Hopefully you won't expect what's going to happen lol.
NintendoNut1: Thank you! I lamented endlessly over this one T-T Damn, another reviewer died. That's the second one! Ah well lol, the end of the suspense is nigh (I love that word!)
Libster: Heh, we don't know if she told Mario (gasp), but it's a good guess! Thanks!
Druid178- Yes, I'm evil XD but your wait shall soon be over!
Doubledude- Figgin' cliffies, XD I love that! Thank you!
Royal Kenya- heh yeah, everyone else are jerks at the moment, but I would probably react the same way with a murderer as well. Thank you!
If anyone is curious it's night now. Roy awoke from his injuries in the morning in Remorse, fell asleep until evening, then Peach died, and by the time he got upstairs it was night.
Disclaimer: I wrote this story, but I own nada.
The Twilight Zone
Chapter Five – Realization
"Damn it, damn it, damn it…" I muttered pacing back and forth nervously with a bewildered glance at the unconscious Marth on my bed. I couldn't help but to be confused right now (and understandably afraid that if someone walked in right now; see Marth on my bed, and assume I was the murderer). It was strange what had happened back in his room… I had opened the closet door and there he was, just lying there, out cold of course, with his hands and feet bound. Letting out a surprise gasp I backed away and glanced at the door. It was impossible; I had just seen Marth downstairs! There was absolutely no way he could have beat me up the stairs, into his room and happened to fall lifeless in a closet while binding himself. As my initial surprise faded I achieved a smug expression. "Serves you right, bastard." I muttered with a superior grin, but when I turned to leave, I could almost hear the Twilight Zone narration…
"A sickness known as hate; not a virus, not a microbe, not a germ—but a sickness nonetheless, highly contagious, deadly in its effects. Don't look for it in the Twilight Zone—look for it in a mirror. Look for it before the light goes out altogether." I deeply sighed, realizing this was good advice, and began to untie the blue haired swordsman, and then brought him into my room bringing me back to the present.
I'll tell you one thing; I'd better get one hell of an explanation when he wakes up. To my luck I turned my head to see him stir.
"What happened?" he asked me groggily. His eyes seemed unfocused; I couldn't help but to wonder if I looked the same when I was hurt. With the 'shing' of my sword being drawn from its' sheath I said,
"It's me who should be asking you that." I pointed it at his neck as finally he began to become aware of what was happening.
"You're interrogating me?" he asked shakily. I frowned a bit, but the terrified expression on his face, I almost felt like the bad guy. However, he did murder people, he deserves it anyway. "What did I do?"
"You murdered two people." I replied coldly.
"When? Where?" I almost blew up at this question, with a raging cry I yelled,
"A while ago! You know, at this infernal mansion!" Marth was still as I yelled, his terror had been replaced with shear confusion.
"The Smashers' Mansion…is that where I am?" Realizing he oblivious to what was happening I put my sword down.
"Do you have amnesia or something?"
"I know perfectly well who I am." he said with a dignified tone returning to his voice. I sat down, knowing perfectly well I was about to get a story… "I am Marth, the Prince of Altea. I was coming to the mansion on horseback when I was ambushed by several wire people. After fending five off one came up behind me and knocked me unconscious…"
"Go on." I said with the wave of my hand as Marth nervously eyed the hilt of my sword.
"When I awoke it was dark, wherever I was, and my head hurt. I was bound and my arm was throbbing with pain. I couldn't stay awake for long, but I began to pound with feet against a wall, and a door opened and someone, who looked just like me stepped in, raised the flat edge of the blade and hit me again. This time I didn't wake up until now… the room I saw outside the door looked a lot like this…"
"They all look the same." I stated matter-o-factly, "I found you in the room next to mine in a closet." He nodded and closed his eyes for a moment leaving me to ponder if this was all valid or not. It certainly seemed logical, but any story would be made to. After all he could always be the murderer and the one downstairs could be innocent, however one thing convinced me otherwise. I had heard a cried pain from his room a while ago, when Marth came to answer the door he acted as if nothing had happened… could he have hit this one with the flat edge of his blade as said?
"Now, may I have an explanation?" I was almost surprised to hear him talk; I thought he had fallen asleep. When I turned to him his eyes were still closed, but he opened them for a moment to show his awareness. I nodded; after all, I suppose he had earned a summery of what had happened here. So, with a deep intake of breath I began to tell the whole story. Marth listened patiently as I spoke of my arrival, the dinner, Links' premature burial, Samus and Falcon running around and interrogating everyone in sight, Falcos' murder, my injury and ultimately Peaches' death. "You believe the one who looks like me did this?"
"He has your sword." I muttered not willing to say anymore.
"Falchion?" he asked ruefully.
"Is that its' name?"
"Yes," he said with a sigh. "It looks slightly like your own sword…" Again, this wasn't concrete proof he wasn't the fake but I couldn't help but to be slightly more convinced he was innocent that he knew the swords' name whilst the other didn't… then again… it could have been made up.
"That's a nice name." I replied shortly not wanting to peruse the subject further. He nodded for a moment, his eyes still closed. "Are you hurt at all?" I asked, knowing this was a rather stupid question.
"No, I should be fine." He attempted to lift his head off the bed and sat up wincing with pain. I frowned at the little puddle of blood on my white pillow.
"Fine hmm?"
"…"
Living Room
"Hey Link!" I called from atop the steps. The Hylians' ears perked as he turned to face me. "Do you know where the bandages are kept?"
"Why?" asked the Marth on the couch as he looked up from his book. I glanced at him, unsure of what to say right away. I couldn't help but to be nervous speaking with him, after all, I still wasn't sure which one was innocent.
"I need to change mine." I retorted quickly, luckily for me he seemed to accept the answer and continued to read.
"On the table." Link said having acknowledged the answer long before Marth had. "Feeling any better yet?"
"Shouldn't I be asking you that?"
"Well, I'm better then…"
"Good to hear!" I said gleefully as I quickly darted down the steps into the room. Link and "Marth" were apparently the only two in there,
"Hasty aren't we?" The look alike asked, cocking his head to the side when I snatched the bandages up from the table.
"I'm in a hasty mood." With that I left, leaving the swordsmen with a confused glance at each other.
My Room
"Thank you." Marth mumbled as I finished wrapping his head with the bandages. I stepped back to survey my work. The dressings were clumsily wrapped around his skull, and his arm was put up in a most pathetic sling. Close enough…
"You're quite welcome." I replied with a pleased tone as I wound the bandages back onto their roll. The injured Altean propped himself up on the bed and looked at me.
"How are we going to catch the imposter?" he asked. I however frowned, for I hadn't really considered that idea yet, for I wasn't sure who to believe. It sounded like a good idea though, and then I can truly find who was in the clear.
"What would make him come?" I questioned, interested to hear his plan.
"Well, he was trying to keep me incapacitated in that closet correct?" Confused what this had to do with anything I said,
"Yes…" however unsure of what incapacitated meant. Marth seemed to know that by my confused expression.
"Meaning, he wanted me out of action so I wouldn't ruin his plans."
"Oh…"
"Now… he's not going to be too happy that I'm running loose now is he?" At this moment I finally got what he was saying.
"So, he'll be looking for you, and we can lure him with you as bait?"
"Exactly!" said the swordsman with a thrilled tone as he leaned back a bit. "I'll lead him back in his room where you'll be waiting, and then you come from behind and knock him out."
"Knock him out?" The plan did seem reasonable, but then again, should I listen to a plan from some one who was hit twice with the flat edge of a blade? "Alright." I agreed finally. "We'll do it in an hour, but you had better not be seen." The Prince nodded and laid back down giving me the time to glance nervously out the door...
…
Marths' Room
"Ready?" I nodded as I crouched by the side of bed.
"Be careful." This time it was the Princes' turn to nod as he took off down the hallway. I waited, alone, in silence for a while. I kept envisioning how our plan would go, Marth would run in with the look-alike hot on his tracks, then I would jumped out gracefully with my sword and smack him. Yeah… that's it. After re-picturing it about more five times I heard running footsteps float from down the hall.
Closer…
I gripped the hilt of my sword, ready to suddenly unsheathe it.
Closer…
My feet were on their balls now, ready to suddenly jump…
Closer…
I prepared my mind, to suddenly attack…
Closer…
Closer…
Further…
…Further!
I blinked in surprise when I realized that the footsteps had come near the room and passed. Confused, I approached the closed door only, to suddenly, have it be slammed in my face as the look-alike (who was holding a struggling, injured Marth) entered the room. Seeing the way he handled the injured one, I knew which one was innocent, it really had been the one I helped.
"Bastard!" the fake screamed holding Falchion high above his head after throwing the one, whose arm was in a sling to the ground. Once I had recovered (or seemingly recovered) from the abrupt opening of the door, I took my own sword, and switched it to the blunt side as I raced over. The look-alike (whom had just noticed my presence) turned and swung his leg, which I unfortunately tripped over. I felt my chin slam down onto the floor creating a sharp pain radiating up my jaw as I could hear my sword bounce upon the floor and with a couple resounding clangs, landed a little ways from me. With an angered cry (mostly at my stupidity), I reached for my blade. The look-alike quickly kicked it across the floor to the other side of the room.
As I scurried across the ground to reach it the fake stepped on my back with a triumphant grin. Against my will I screamed out in pain (for my chests' wound had not completely healed) as he continued to walk across the back of my body and stepped down on my hand so I couldn't reach my beloved sword. "Just couldn't kept your nose out of it could you?" he asked softly with the slightest cock of the head to emphasize the question. I whimpered in reply for I found I couldn't speak at the moment.
He took his foot off my hand onto the back of my neck and ever so slightly began to push against it. At first I was fine (well as fine as I could be for this position…) but soon I began to feel dizzy… colors began to separate and disappear into black. With the last ounce of my thoughts I became aware of what he was doing, he was pushing down on a pressure point, which would kill me if pushed down to hard… Then, just as death began to take me I heard a dull smack of metal and a sickening crack as the pressure was lifted off my neck and back. I took a couple irregular breathes as colors turned back into focus and I could feel my chest heave with each deep breath I greedily took. Once I felt alright to move once more I saw Marth holding the Sword of Seals which had blooding gently trickling down the blade. There were a couple more drops of blood leading to the head of the look-alike who was slumped against the foot of the bed.
"Is he… dead?" I managed to gasp out between breaths.
"No, he's alive, just cataleptic." When I gave him a quizzical look he replied, "Out cold." I dragged myself to the bed and used it to heave myself onto my feet again. Once my breathing was normal I said,
"We should get him back into my room. Someone's bound to have heard all that…" The real Marth glanced at the unconscious fake and nodded.
"Yes, that would be quite a story to try and explain…"
My room
"Careful, careful!" Marth cried out uneasily as I brought the imposter into my room. I grinned at him, for he couldn't help but to look comical with his bandages on his head hanging askew (from the fight I suppose) as he gave me a worried look with his hand out in front of him. I was holding the imposter in my arms (Marth couldn't do it of course, his arm was in a sling) as we walked into my room. Trying to stifle a grin (I was in high spirits) I pretended to drop the murderer, which made Marth let out a surprised yelp.
"I will, I will." I replied to his earlier outbursts as I placed the killer on the bed. "Bring the chair over; we'll tie him to it." Marth obeyed the order, and promptly grabbed the nearest chair, dragging it over. "Good." I picked up the murderer and unceremoniously dropped him onto the chair and tied his hands to the back (I got the rope from my satchel if you are concerned about such details).
"Now what?" I glanced out the window, it was a pure black night, and the lamp (interesting invention really once I learned to use it) glowed mysteriously, illuminating the entire room. I glanced back at my companion ready to answer.
"Depends, on how long it will take him to wake up." By saying this I had hoped he would suddenly awaken, but when that did not happen I let out a snort of disappointment. "How hard did you hit him?"
"Not that hard…" he muttered in response, "He's alive isn't he? Be grateful I left him at that…" There was silence for a couple, moment. There had been one question I had been meaning ask him, but I wasn't sure if I should…
"Are you really in exile?" I finally blurted out. By the way Marth looked at me in response I almost wished I had avoided this topic as well.
"Where'd you hear that?" I inclined my head in the direction of the fake leaving Marth with a sigh. "Yes, I am."
"Why?" I persisted since he seemed comfortable speaking about it. "Did you commit a crime?"
"No!" he said with a reproachful cry. Guiltily, I hung my head. Seeing my position he hastily added "but that would have been anyone's' guess. I was exiled when another land had taken over my own."
"Didn't you go back for it?" I inquired.
"No, but how could I? It's an entire country… I was hoping this tournament could make me strong enough to go back and liberate it by overthrowing the dictator but all I got was hurt."
"It's not really your fault," I said as I glanced out the window once more. "No one expected an insane murder situation…" As I was about to say something else I heard a groan from the chair. Almost as if instinct Marth grabbed his regained weapon with his unhurt arm and put the sword to his neck. He gave me a 'ready?' look. I nodded silently in response and stood before the chair. The fakes' eyes flickered open, and before he could yell for assistance I said,
"If you don't keep quiet, we will kill you now." I crossed my arms and tried to look as tough as I could (receiving an incredulous look from Marth), however the fake seemed to buy it, and urged to say no more. "Excellent, now we have several questions for you. The first is; who are you?" With a glare the fake replied
"Marth."
"No," I replied curtly "You know damn well you are not Marth."
"That was the name my master had given me when I was created." Intrigued by this I dropped my 'tough guy' disposition and gaped at the fake.
"Created you? What are you?" The fake looked down at the floor. I couldn't see his entire face, however I could see a Cheshire-like grin forming upon his face.
"I am a Male Fighting Wireframe created with the purpose to kill the participants of the upcoming Super Smash Brothers tournament. I was nick-named "Marth" for that was the identity I was to use to keep myself amongst the contestants." He looked up at me with a darkened, insane looking grin. "I was told to be stealthy with my killings; and tricky when it came to how I would go about it. The razorblade, my first idea, failed when the wrong person ate the food I prepared. The second, also failed, though I hadn't expected it to work, though the mission we were working for was probably made easier to accomplish by it. The third, which was a full out murder, was a success, I injured another also in the process with a warning not to give away my identity. The fourth, was even more of a success, no one felt safe after that…"
"Why?" asked Marth "Why were you sent to kill?"
"Mistrust."
"Mistrust?"
"Of course." I banged my other hand with a fist in victory. "These tournaments were made to keep peace amongst the different worlds right?"
"Yes." said Marth as realization dawned on his face. Even though he apparently understood I decided to continue with my stroke of genius.
"This means we have to trust the other participants. If the worlds are all concerned with which one of us is a murderer than…"
"There won't be any trust… and when divided…"
"They fall." I announced grandly. This was a second time a Twilight Zone narration fit into place… 'The tools of conquest do not necessarily come with bombs and explosions and fallout. There are weapons that are simply thoughts, attitudes, and prejudices- to be found in the minds of men. For the record prejudice can kill and suspicion can destroy, and a thoughtless, frightened search for a scapegoat has a fallout of its' own- for the children, and the children not yet born. It is a pity these things cannot be confined to 'The Twilight Zone'. There was only one thing keeping this from falling into place… "Who is your master?"
"I will never tell." Marth pressed his own blade onto the neck the Frame (as he called himself), and with a surprised gasp, drew back.
"Roy…" he said with a shocked tone. Curious, I drew myself closer to see what it was. Where he had made the cut there was a bright purple color behind it. I began to peel of some the skin (despite the protests of the Frame) revealing more of the color. Swiftly I pulled it more and more, until I exposed the entire head and drew back in shock as Marth had done. The figure bound to the chair was not human. It reminded me of a manikin that woman used to sew there dresses. It was in the shape of a man, but had no face, only the logo of the tournament, a red circle crossed at the edge, was seen. Upon seeing the symbol Marth whispered,
"You were created by the same administration that prepared this tournament aren't you?"
"Yes." The Frame admitted. It jaw moved up and down with the confirmation, though it was strange seeing it speak without a mouth. I was silent for I wasn't sure what to say.
"You were sent by this administration? Then-"
"They locked us in here…" I finished with a vacant expression.
"Yes." said the Frame. "The force field was activated by me in the mansion." My heart jumped. When it was said the administration had locked us in, only they had the key to let us out… but if it could deactivated inside the mansion… Marth, who seemed to have the same idea as me quickly demanded,
"Tell us how to deactivate it."
"In the basement, you'll see a door at the end, it won't open for you. Say, Giga 1 12 and it should. Go in, and beat what's inside, and you can deactivate the shield."
"What's inside?" asked Marth warily, only getting a grin from the Wire Frame.
"Go and find out…" it said softly after a while, as it looked up at me. I wasn't, by the tone of its' voice if it was sad… or insane.
A/N: whew well, this chapter took a while, I was afraid I'd miss the deadline. However it's in, I didn't get to do my usual hundred grammar checks, so lease point out any mistake you might see, and toss them at my head, please? So R&R please and… till the next chapter!