From here on, there might be Super Mario RPG spoilers. It's been ingrained into my life for so long I can't tell anymore.

The women appeared in Flipside, in front of the white tower. It happened so suddenly that none of them had their bearings. Mimi was still holding Félicie in her arms. Tippi was perched on Nastasia's bun. All of them were holding perfectly still, unsure of what to think or do. The world kept moving around them. They were used to dimensional popping in this town. Tippi noticed this after a moment.

"Oh," said Tippi at last. "I know where we are. We're back in Flipside."

"Ah, yes, scenic Flipside," said Nastasia. "Home of Merlon, descendent of the Ancients, Howzit's Item Shop, and the dimension-famous Sweet Smiles. I must say, it's a step up from the dungeon."

"Hey, I remember here," said Mimi.

The door to Merlon's house opened. Since he was right next to the tower, he had seen something unusual going on right away. "Tippi!" he exclaimed happily. "And if it isn't Nastasia and Mimi! What brings you to Flipside?"

"Oh, Merlon, we really need your help!" said Tippi. "There's bad trouble back at Blumiere's castle!"

"Yeah, it's a real mess over there," added Mimi.

"Well, come in, then, come in!" Merlon held his door open. "My door's always open to you, Tippi- Timpani, I mean."

"Oh, thank you, Merlon. Thank you so very much."

When the last of them were in, Merlon closed and locked the door so they wouldn't be disturbed. He gestured for them all to sit in his comfy armchairs. "Now, tell me exactly what's going on."

"Dimentio!" Nawrocki hollered down the production line. "Stop floating around and… keep watch over those spray levels… I don't want my precious weapons… looking like the victim of a splatter-paint artist!" He crawled down the line slowly, keeping an eye on his workers.

"Nice job, O'Chunks… you have a way with that press…" he nodded approvingly. O'Chunks merely scowled. He would only accept praise from his master.

"I'm going to the back," he said. "If you stop working… then you're entering a… world of pain, you hear?" And with that, he opened a small door at the rear of the room and stepped in.

"We have a back?" asked Mr. L, turning a dial nearby for reasons he didn't understand.

"We have a tiny supply closet," replied Count Bleck. "I have no idea what he could possibly have in there."

Mr. L leaned over to get a look at the door where Nawrocki had exited, then went back to his mysterious dial-turning. "He's talking funny."

"Of course he is. He's starving to death."

"What?!" Mr. L stopped turning the dial and stared at Count Bleck.

Count Bleck nodded. "If my hypothesis is true. You see, he's a plant, and there's no sunlight in Dimension Bleck."

"Oh." Mr. L nodded knowingly. "Is that why you agreed to let us all stay here? It's, like, all part of your master plan or something?"

Count Bleck shook his head. "Yes and no. The reasons I gave before were true, because I didn't know back then. But now, I'm thinking it may not be such a terrible idea."

"Wonderful!" said Dimentio happily as he floated by. "How deliciously evil of you, my Count. And they say people can never change."

Count Bleck jerked his thumb up to Dimentio. "And that, my friends, is what is causing my moral conflict."

"The fact that Dimentio thinks it's a good idea?"

"Yes. Would you do anything he thought was a good idea?"

"… Um… no. I can honestly say, no. I wouldn't."

"Are you going to do anything about this?" asked Count Bleck.

"What, me? No, of course not. I mean, not without your permission."

Count Bleck chuckled. "You may put on the mask, Mr. L, but you're still the same Luigi underneath."

"You take that back!"

"I don't hear working!" Nawrocki hollered from the supply closet.

"You can't hear through that door!" Mr. L hollered back.

"I hear all!"

Count Bleck shook his head and smiled at the absurdity of the scene that just took place, and continued turning the lever left and right, sorting the pieces. In a contemporary factory, this would be done by machines that could gauge weight and have the computers adjust accordingly. But this factory was very underdeveloped at best; a safety hazard all the other times.

He tried very hard to keep his mind on the work, but it wandered away. What if his theory was right? What if the plant wasn't getting any sunlight? The Count had his suspicions when Nawrocki first moved in as to how he would eat, but surely Nawrocki would notice it? He'd been photosynthesizing his whole life, and he had survival instincts to boot. Unless he couldn't interpret the situation. Perhaps he was too caught up in his world domination to realize that something was wrong or to analyze it. Or perhaps it wasn't like feeling hungry.

But here he was, rationalizing it when the facts were clear: Whether or not Nawrocki was actually starving, Count Bleck had every reason to believe it was possible and was doing nothing about it. Talk about redemption. He would never be redeemed if he did something as despicable as this.

But was it despicable? It set things right. The master of the factory wouldn't be around and thus his plans would end. The world would be saved de facto.

But he would have let someone die.

The problem will solve itself, Count Bleck assured himself silently. He must have survival instincts that will let him know.

Certainly, go ahead and rationalize it. That's the best way to gain your redemption.

"I can too hear everything!" Nawrocki hollered from the closet. Count Bleck jerked his head up, suddenly terrified. Could Nawrocki hear his internal conflict this whole time?

"Then what name did I just call you under my breath?" Mr. L hollered back.

Count Bleck breathed a sigh of relief. Of course. They were still doing their own sketch.

Merlon sat silently while the three women tried to tell him the story. Tippi told it as best she could, but when she got too emotional Nastasia took over. Eventually she, too, found she had to stop and Tippi took over once more. Mimi butted in every time she thought she had something to say, which was rarely close enough to the topic to count.

"But—but by then he'd already closed the door!" Tippi said in a voice that was bordering on hysteria. "I felt something was wrong! I felt it and I brushed it off! I had a gut instinct and I ignored it! That's so foolish! It's just… it's just…!"

"Yeah," said Nastasia. "So, after that, he had his Machine Mades lock the door. A little while later he had the others join us. I guess he probably captured them when they got back from their assignment."

"Yeah," added Mimi. "We were, like, smashing things and junk."

"Yes, you were. And we made this deal with him, y'see, where he would let us go free as long as the men stayed behind to work in his factory. It's a binding contract, though. Airtight."

"He wanted me to leave!" Tippi cried. "What should I have done? I couldn't leave him, but I couldn't stay!"

Merlon listened patiently until they quieted down, and then he began to speak. "So, I may infer that your biggest goal right now is to free the others."

"Yeah," said Nastasia. "That's the first bullet point on the list."

"Hm." Merlon got up and walked over to bookshelf of his room- being a wise old man, the whole room was practically one big bookshelf with more on the floor- and selected one seemingly at random. He knew his own house better than himself. Then he sat down again and opened the book.

"He wants to fill the world with weapons," Merlon said out loud. "Is that what you said he said?"

"Yeah," said Tippi. "Like Smithy."

"Who's Smithy?" asked Mimi.

"He was a monster," Tippi said darkly.

"I remember him," Nastasia said. "Yeah, didn't he have, like, his own organization or something?"

"I'm not sure," said Tippi. "But he wanted to rule the world and fill it with weapons."

"That's true," said Merlon. "He called his group the Smithy Gang. According to these ancient texts—"

"Ancient? This happened thirteen years ago."

Merlon looked up in surprise. "Really? I could have sworn… all right, then, according to these contemporary texts, Smithy came from another world to conquer this one. He and everyone in his gang were bested by Mario."

"So, like, he went back to his old world?" asked Mimi.

"No, sweetheart, he's dead."

"Oh!" She thought for a moment. "Like, totally dead?"

"No, he's only mostly dead. There's a difference between mostly dead and all dead."

"Oh… wait, really!?"

Nastasia gave a disapproving look to Merlon. "Don't tease the poor thing."

"So it was Nawrocki in the woods shooting arrows," said Tippi.

"He must have been there because of the tribe you told me about, to do research for his project," said Merlon. "Those arrows must have been left behind when their master, from the Smithy Gang, was defeated. With nothing else to do, they remained there. Perhaps they're still waiting for him to return like the Messiah and take them away."

"That's a depressing thought."

"They're happy enough."

"That's not happy enough!" Mimi cut in. "Wait, were any of you around for that joke the first time?

"Mm, no, I don't think so," said Nastasia.

Merlon stood up. "In any case, I'm certain none of this was planned on his part. He was in the woods when you were there, researching his own projects, and then when he ended up in your castle he took the opportunity to…"

"Requisition it," said Nastasia.

"Which means, the plan might not be as airtight as you fear." He flipped through the book until he came across a bold illustrated map. "He must be playing it by ear as you are. First off, the deal is very vague. They must work for him in his factory, and that's all. They can still fight. I doubt very much they are in a position to now, but if we can send aid to them, they can resist."

"Where would we get aid?"

Merlon looked up at them. "Don't tell me you underestimate me. I have all the assistance you need."

Fun fact: If you write a chapter awesomely and decide to put it aside and read it early the next morning to edit it instead of foolishly publishing it before bed, you will get insomnia and not fall asleep until 5 in the morning. Or, if you replace "you" with "I" at least.

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