Popstar Comics


Author's Note: I apologize for not replying to anyone last chapter. I'll be sure to do that for this update. Thank you to Ellie, Paradigm, prowessMaster, Wotahbo3k, Flowslikepixels, and SolarEnergy for leaving reviews, as well as those of you who have favorited and followed thus far.


Chapter 2: City of Color


There's nothing particularly interesting about New Smashopolis during the day. People are either at work or at school, and nobody ever has time to stop to chat unless it's on a business appointment. Cars drive by, construction tools hammer, and everyone is caught in the net of automation. Productivity can't outshine the mundane, and that's precisely how it looks every day of the week; just a bunch of worker bees buzzing around to make honey for the queen that is modern society.

It just isn't for me, which is the reason why I've become more nocturnal over the years. At night, after the businesses are closed and the hardhats are hung, the lights turn on and the city reawakens with a new purpose. No longer is New Smashopolis a workaholic's dream town, but a young beast that no mortal man can tame. Those who thrive during the afterhours come out of hiding, opening up booths and other various stands to entice onlookers to check out their goods. Throw all that in a blender with music, clubs, and street gangs, and my friend you have yourself a recipe for destruction.

If you head south down Dreamland Street, you will eventually reach Station Square, which is the prime capital of nighttime activity. Here is where I normally found myself wandering off to after work closed, but believe me when I say I am no stranger. Truth be told, I used to hang out here all the time before I was working at Popstar. The vendors know me, the kids know me, hell even the dude that runs the PacDonalds place knows me. I've made a name for myself here and I wouldn't give it up for anything in the world.

"Yo Kuro! On the house!"

I receive a flying banana smoothie from a nearby vendor, the DK Bros. to be precise. They see me every now and then, and sometimes I do them favors by fending off street bums from their supplies. I don't know them personally—they're probably not even real brothers—but a free smoothie is better than no smoothie. It's moments like these that remind me that life can be kind of cool sometimes.

Strolling around Station Square, I pop in to a few booths to see what's hot. There's a vendor selling necklaces, another promoting a new brand of fish sticks (that's fish on a stick you can eat with one hand), knickknacks, ramen noodles, polished stones that were probably plucked from a ditch. We're all trying our best to make a dollar so I don't mind paying my respects to those less fortunate than me.

Eventually I stop at a newspaper stand to check out today's headlines since apparently I didn't have time at all for that this morning.

"Mass Break-Ins Sweeping Smashopolis"

Nothing unusual. In a city with so many businesses, it's no wonder why the crime rates haven't changed in the past ten years. In fact, I'd say it's gone up, and I'm probably not doing anything to help the cause, but that's not my problem. It may not look like it, but I am one of those burglars, or thieves, or whatever the hell they're calling them nowadays. This is how I make my living. Well, it was how I made my living before the comic book thing, but I already said that I wasn't going to go through with that again. Besides, am I really a thief if I've never been caught before?

Little did I realize that I was soon about to eat my words.

The slightest tug nudges my back pocket, and in one second I've grabbed someone by the wrist and thrown him to the ground. I hear a squeal of pain, which is the only thing keeping me from squeezing harder than I should have.

"Gah! I'm sorry Kuro! I-I didn't know it was you!"

I recognize the boy as one of the Villager kids, a group of homeless children who survive through pickpocketing and soliciting. His matted brown hair is revealed after the cowl falls to the ground, and his eyes are so big they're practically spinning. With a sigh, I get off of him and help him to his feet, letting the few onlookers who witnessed the event know that this was just a misunderstanding.

"Watch what you're doing," I say seriously, "or the next time that happens you'll lose an arm."

He dusts himself off before fixing the cowl back over his head. His face is brown, sweaty, and he reeks of something that died days ago.

"I could've sworn you were just another regular," replied the Villager boy. "I haven't seen you around here for a while."

I notice my fallen smoothie from the corner of my eye.

"I've been… busy," I mumble, scooping up the plastic cup and tossing it in a nearby trash bin.

"Busy with what? I used to see you almost every day in Station Square."

"Working," I state hesitantly. "Just at a store that sells books and other cheaply-made crap. Not nearly as fun as I'm making it sound, trust me."

He chuckles at my sarcastic comment. The Villagers always liked a good sarcastic comment.

"How about you? Staying out of dumpsters?"

"I wish," he says, "but not for the reasons you might think." He pauses to glance around, verifying that everyone in the immediate vicinity is either too preoccupied or too high to notice him. "We're trying to keep our heads down until the mass break-in thing blows over."

That's not really surprising. With break-ins happening all over the city, the police are likely to turn their heads at the groups that cause the most trouble downtown. The Villagers are a prime suspect as any in these cases, but I know for a fact that these kids solely stick to the streets and don't have the guts or the manpower to break in to a store by themselves.

"Any idea who it is?" I ask. Not that I care, but you'd be surprised at how far knowing information can get you in this neighbourhood.

He shakes his head. "Nope. There's a rumor that it could be a new gang in town, but I doubt it. The police are turning up every week though, so be on your guard." He tugs his cowl over his eyes and crouches. "It was nice talking to you again. Gotta run!"

He dashes off, disappearing behind a crowd and into an alleyway. Since he is a pickpocket, there is no reason for him to stay out here any longer than he has to. Thankfully there were no cops around, but I wouldn't be surprised if he caught eye of someone that I missed.

"Heyyy, Kuro."

The voice comes from behind and I soon find myself standing before yet another familiar face.

"Hey," I say, but I ignore the playful way in which she greeted me. "Isn't it past your bedtime?"

The girl—standing about as tall as the Villager kid—gives me a pout. She turns her head from side to side, the large pigtails in her hair dangling like a pair of black bells. Her hands behind her back give off an innocent demeanor, but I know just as well as anyone else who knows her that she's merely playing cute.

"Nooo," she coos. "I don't have a bedtime, silly. I just wanted to say hi."

This is Ashley, New Smashopolis' resident witch girl. On the outside, she appears to be no more than twelve, typically sporting a red dress or some similar gown when out on the streets. She uses her outward appearance as a means to take advantage of others, wherein actuality she has the mind of an adult. Supposedly, she drank a potion that made her look like a child, but that doesn't change the fact that she's still the same Ashley I've come to know all these years.

She and I have a bit of history with the Gerudos, although she claims to be on and off of the group on account of her "going to school." Simply put, she's a mischief maker. There were times when I caught her trying to slip pills into my drink, among other dubious things just so she could satisfy her feminine needs. I don't mind her, but she has a tendency to step over the friendship boundary when under the influence.

"So what's new?" I ask. "Disturbing the peace like always?"

"That's your job." She winks at me. "I was just doing a little grocery shopping before heading home. Wario doesn't feed himself despite how much he eats…"

That's her stepfather, but calling him that is a stretch. He's more like the "guy who had to sign the adoption papers" kind of father. Interestingly, he also has some background with the Gerudo gang, but as far as I know Wario is barely ever home. Not to mention, Ashley technically does live by herself, but according to the documents, Wario is in fact her legal guardian. I suppose that's what she gets for fooling everyone about her age.

"How's he doing?" I ask, and feel my mouth smirking on its own. The mention of Wario's name brings back some fun memories indeed. "Still cleaning the cement off his shoes?"

She laughs, recalling the time when Wario had accidentally walked over a sidewalk of wet cement. Needless to say, he ended up barefooting it, abandoning his shoes for that poor construction crew to chisel out a day later.

"You know it," she says. "He's been wondering about you lately. Every time I see him he just goes on and on about…" She puts her hands to her face to mimic a chubby Italian man. "When's Kuro coming back?"

I told him that I was only going to be gone a few days, but now I'm closing up my second week working at Popstar Comics. We used to be good pals—and we still are to a degree—but I suppose he's just one of those guys who can't live without a second opinion. I am the left to his right, the bad cop to his good cop, and if he didn't leave his cement shoes behind I'd probably be those too. Our relationship was something like an old drinking buddy that always picks up where the last conversation ended. It's bittersweet, but I'll be friends with anyone who likes me for who I am.

"I'll be back soon," I say. "I've been busy longer than I thought I was going to be."

"Aren't you working at some lame comic book store now?"

So she knows. Damn, word gets around.

"Pretty much," I reply. "Although I think I might be getting a raise tomorrow."

I notice an eyebrow skeptically rise up towards me.

"A raise already?" she says. "Fat chance. If raises came that fast, I'd be the CEO of Sony by now."

"Well maybe I'm doing a really good job." I don't know what it is, but for some reason the way she speaks irritates me. "I haven't heard one complaint from my manager." Not true, but why be honest with someone who wants you to play hard to get? "In fact, he's so proud that he wants me to come in extra early tomorrow just so he can tell me the good news."

I raise my chin in indignation, but her spits of laughter crumble me.

"I bet he is!" she says. "Now you can get the official nerd stamp of approval!" She pounds a tiny fist into her hand to demonstrate how it's going to go tomorrow. "He's probably some fat guy who smells like he hasn't bathed in weeks, right?"

I hesitate as I try to come up with a response, but she's absolutely right. I don't have anything to be proud of. I work at a freaking comic book store making chump change for money! And plus, why should I care about what some overweight penguin thinks of me? And who cares if I've done a good job or not since I'm leaving this place first chance I get tomorrow anyway! As much as I hate to admit it, Ashley has a point, and I'd be stupid to try and disprove her for it because it would only show that I care about this job more than I should.

But then again, I couldn't stand seeing her with that smug smirk on her face.

"Don't you think I've already thought of this?" I say, interrupting her giggles. "The job, the money, it's all a scheme just to show my stupid brother that I don't need his or anyone's help to get what I want."

The mention of Pit seems to pique her interest.

"Oh yeah, I almost forgot you had a brotherrr." Her voice lingers on that last word, which usually meant that mind of hers was plotting something deviant. "He dropped off some mail for me the other day. I meant to give him a hug but he flew the coop before I could put something decent on."

The thought of Ashley doing anything minutely social with Pit disgusts me to my stomach. Knowing her, she was probably already thinking of some plan to get Pit into her house so she could hogtie him and keep him as a pet in her basement.

"I'll be sure to tell him to avoid your street at all costs," I say casually, but that only earns another pout from her.

"Fine, be that way," she replies. "Just make sure you come back soon. It's getting kind of lonely without you around…"

She stares at the ground and draws circles with her foot, but I can't tell if she's being serious or not. Although she comes off as a brat, deep down inside I know Ashely cares about me (a little too much sometimes). We have this sort of sibling relationship that I frankly wish I had with my own brother. It's kind of sad in a way.

"I've never seen you this clingy," I say. "Maybe I should leave more often."

She points a finger at me. "Do it and you can say bye-bye to your wings."

Threatening me with black magic? It's not the first time coming from her and it's certainly not the last.

"Okay," I say. "I can't fly anyway so these wings are practically useless."

"I can still pluck the feathers one by one. Slowly…"

She makes a motion as if she's pulling feathers off a chicken, and I feel my spine shiver at the thought. That's a sure sign as any that this conversation is over.

"I'm out of here," I blurt. "Later, Ashley."

I head in the other direction as fast as my legs can take me, but her voice still follows me over the groups of people.

"One by one! One. By. One."

It's like taking a potato peeler to your own skin. Now there's an analogy for you.

As her voice drowns in the city noises, I can't help but think about what she said about Popstar Comics. She's right when she said it was unrealistic of me to expect a raise tomorrow, especially since it's only been a few weeks. But if not that, then what? Dedede approached me and only me at the end of the day, and he made it sound like it was a reward for all the hard work I've been putting in. On the contrary, this is a comic book store we're talking about. What were the odds of him pulling out some tacky dress shirt from behind the counter as a form of initiation into their nerd cult? Or what if the big surprise is just a life-sized cardboard cut-out of Mario from the Super Mario Bros. series? The more I thought about it, the more I was beginning to suspect that this "big surprise" was nothing but a hoax to get me to come to work tomorrow. And if that's the case, then tomorrow will be the last time those losers ever see me again.