The scent of the land just after rain is called "petrichor". This doesn't have anything relevant to do with Smash. But you know if it ever rains now you know what that scent is.

Super Smash Bros. For Wii U and 3DS: The Glory of Custom Moves

Minor Setback

Within the recesses of a large room cloaked in darkness sat a figure also cloaked in darkness. The figure wrapped his hands together and sat up on a chair of sorts.

"...Lights please?" He inquired tiredly.

There was a flash and all of a sudden the desk he sat at was illuminated. As the light settled down on the figure, it was revealed to be none other than Robin, garbed cleanly in his tactician clothes with a stack of paper organized in front of him. The tactician glanced ahead, took the top sheet of paper, and squinted.

"Right. Well, straight to the point…" He cleared his throat and smiled. "Hello...you. Our sincere apologies. It seems that...someone…" Robin glanced towards the ceiling then back across his desk. "Neglected to keep up on our progress. For those curious as to where we fighters have been, we've been hard at work on...experimenting."

The lights flashed on and off suddenly. Bits and pieces of dust and debris from the ceiling rained down on the desk. With a frown, Robin reached into his cloak, retrieved a green tome, and smacked his hand on top of the set of the papers. Carefully, he opened the pages of the book and swept it over the table, and a light gust of wind dusted off the desk.

Reaching into the pile of papers with one hand, and dusting himself off with the other, Robin started reading aloud again. "Right. For anyone who still happens to have any interest in our tales, fret not, for we will return. Eventually." He set down the page. "But for now I would advise you to be patient. We're just having a sort of...slow day."

All of a sudden the lights shut off again. Robin blinked in the darkness and squinted ahead with a frown. Reaching back into his cloak, he retrieved yet another tome, one that set itself alight with flames to illuminate the now pitch black studio. The sound of something cracking began to catch his attention. Peering upwards, Robin raised his fire tome up to the ceiling, and stared. A series of fractures began to shatter the roof above. Thinking quick, Robin kicked out of his chair, and slid underneath the cover of the desk.

Light flooded back into the room yet again. As did a deluge of plaster and dust. Robin covered his face with his sleeve and extinguished his tome as the dust rained down. Coughing, he exchanged the red book with his green yet again, and unleashed another round of gales to clear the room. Pushing himself out of the table into the light he squinted ahead at where the stack of papers used to be.

A hefty, bizarrely shaped mechanical monster with several long appendages extending from its circular base sat on the table. One glowing blue eye surveyed the room as its cylindrical head spun slowly. Cautiously, Robin began to back away, only to find that the eye had already spotted him. The machine whirled around, spied at Robin, and aimed. A red dot focused on Robin's forehead. With a silent curse, Robin raised his tome, and readied to fight. A flash of light and a loud beep emanated from the machine.

As a beam of cyan blared from the eye the world seemed to slow for Robin. Caught with his pants down, he shielded himself with his tome, and prepared for the worst. It might have been game-over had it not been for the pot lid.

"Hyah!" He heard someone shout.

A round wooden lid was blasted to smithereens in place of Robin. Robin gaped in shock then turned to his right. Link, or at least the one donning his sky-blue shirt, stood tall and proud. And with nothing but a stick as a weapon. Before Robin could acknowledge him, he found it necessary to duck, as the mechanical monster swung one of its tentacle-like appendages towards him.

Time seemed to slow again. Within the span of the few seconds that Robin and Link's eyes connected the two of them seemed to understand what they needed to do. Book and stick in hand, the two aimed at the machine.

AN: Anyone there? No one?

Eh, well you know. Even if there isn't anyone out there who's reading it's still entertaining to write to one's self.

Thanks for reading, this is ThePizzaLovingTurtle, see you!