Hello all.
As you may have surmised, I've decided to go ahead with Checkmate first after all. (Sorry, Shadow!) However, rest assured that I will post up the other fic as soon as Checkmate is completed, because it's something I want to get off my chest too. And as such, work on Checkmate is redoubled – partially also because I now have more free time!
Still, as a teaser (and an apology), the title for that upcoming fic is Cheers. Work on the first chapter's almost complete.
In any case, many, many thanks to Pikachu127, NinjaSheik, Shadow Blues (sorry once again!) Souldin, lupyne and Dusk-N-Dawn! I know I promised you this and the previous chapter much earlier, so apologies for having missed that deadline I set out. (especially to you, Shadow –) I guess better time management's one thing I have to work on for now.
Of course, thank you all for reading (even if you accidentally clicked on the link, or were forced to read bad literature), please do leave a review! I appreciate all your reviews and criticism, even if I don't manage to reply to it as quickly as I wish to. Thank you all once again!
hawk
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Checkmate – Chapter Three
After a while, the Brawlers simply started to fall apart. Without Master Hand conducting their Brawls, the erratic schedules and odd locales determined by his less-sane counterpart only served to widen gaps between the Smashers. Performing publicly, the Smashers also spent much of their time away from the Mansion, so much so that it got to a point where they took up residence in other areas just to be around the locations that they usually Brawled at, although they usually returned to the Mansion.
One day, Lucario simply disappeared.
His absence was not noted for a while, as he had kept to himself and rarely interacted with the other Smashers. Often, what little interaction was a polite Good morning or Please do not step on my tail. Shaking his blue tail free from under the feet of the other Smasher, he would then continue on his way and disappear out of sight, presumably to train or meditate in some secluded corner of the Mansion.
The last Smasher to see him was Meta Knight, with his keen eyes and knowing stare. The little puffball stood in front of Lucario, forcing the Pokémon to come to a halt. "Good day," the puffball intoned, not unkindly, but eyeing the Aura Pokémon who stood taller than him. Good day, Meta Knight. "Where are you going?"
Out. I wish to go out. Meta Knight considered this for a moment, then stood aside. "See you then," he intoned in his deep voice. Lucario paused, then nodded. Thank you. Passing by Meta Knight, Lucario slowly padded around the corridor corner and disappeared.
That was the last anyone saw of Lucario for a time.
Meta Knight gathered as much, that he would like to be left alone. Perhaps a secluded corner of the Mansion wasn't enough, the Pokémon had taken to seeking an alternative venue for his peace and quiet; but never realized that Lucario would eventually turn out to be the first Smasher to leave the Mansion.
Following that, other Smashers started to move out from the Mansion as well. Unlike Lucario, they continually Brawled. They still turned up for their assigned matches at the assigned times, dutifully Brawling and laughing and hanging out with their opponents after the match, usually at the café near Animal Crossing's arena, listening to K. K. Slider, or – more often now – the little eatery in the Midair Stadium.
Mario, Kirby, and some of the older veterans had moved into residences near the Midair Stadium, a colossal stadium suspended in the air near the Sea of Clouds. The eatery there was constantly patronized by the Brawlers, and Kirby happily spent practically most of his prize money on food. No wonder they're never-a short-a business, mused Mario. Still, like many others, he longed to return to the Mansion and the old way of Brawls, but that didn't seem to be happening anytime soon.
With each passing day the Smashers' belief that Master Hand would return waned. Some even tried to forget, concentrating more on the next day's Brawls rather than reminiscing about "life back then". Of course, "life right now" involved Crazy Hand in charge of the Mansion, and perhaps they might have had a point.
Said appendage was now roaming the empty corridors of the Smash Mansion, with little else to do. As most of the Smashers had left by themselves, the only two which had stayed were the mechanical robot R.O.B. and the two-dimensional Mr. Game and Watch. They… amused the Hand, at least – it was better than staring at empty corridors all day – and it was rather satisfying to pit them in friendly Brawls against each other on one of the Mansion's arenas, just for the heck of it, and also for old time's sake.
The flat Smasher had suddenly disappeared, gone, without a goodbye. Crazy Hand had presumed – had finally made the connection – that perhaps Mr. Game and Watch had left the Mansion just like the other Smashers, and thought no more about it. When R.O.B. announced departure from the Mansion, the Hand froze into place and didn't move for quite a while, almost as if stunned.
R.O.B. waited for a few minutes, decided that Crazy Hand had comprehended the announcement, and hurriedly whirred out of the Smash Mansion.
A couple more minutes after R.O.B.'s exit, Crazy Hand buzzed back into life. After a week-long quest of discovering that now no more Smashers resided in the Mansion, Crazy Hand resigned himself to roaming the hallways, cackling and chuckling loudly, as well as replaying old tapes of Brawls on Mansion arenas and watching them intently, every once in a while slapping the holographic representations of the Brawlers, cackling and rooting for random Smashers in matches that he already knew the outcome of. It didn't make much sense, but it was entertaining, and that was all that mattered to the Hand.
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One must be strategic.
In the purple vastness of Subspace, Master Hand's gloved fingers reach over, picking up the R.O.B. and Mr. Game and Watch trophies, turning them over multiple times.
…and yet one must not be willing to sacrifice material so readily, or else all will be lost for very little gain.
In Master Hand's fingers, the trophies of R.O.B. and Mr. Game and Watch blurred, then slipped out of his grasp and clattered noisily to the ground. The armies against Master Hand seemed to have doubled in size, increasing and increasing until they stretched into the shadowed and blackened corners of the chessboard and could not be seen.
The colossal armies moved in one accord, swarming towards the corner of the board where a single, solitary piece lay. Against such incredible odds, the single piece seemed hopelessly outnumbered and outranked, a speck of white sand against a veritable ocean of darkness.
---
A few months later, on a rather windy day, Crazy Hand flew about the outside of the Mansion, relishing the feel of the wind through his fingers and the caressing of the warm light on the white glove. With all the Smashers gone, it seemed like then Hand had nothing better to do than to arrange Brawls by proxy, hoping that the Smashers would show up to their respective venues at the Midair Stadium or the like.
Still, even an insane disembodied hand would appreciate companionship, and so Crazy Hand again hoped for some Smashers to return, more often now than ever. Oddly enough, the crazy hand would never really bother about the Smashers, only until they disappeared from the Mansion altogether.
Suddenly, the Hand stopped in mid-flight, jerking backwards as if someone had suddenly grabbed him by the wrist and yanked hard. Silence followed for the next couple of seconds. Crazy Hand slowly swiveled in place, before suddenly snapping back. A distant, nearly-robotic wail echoed from a far distance, away from the Isle of the Ancients, on the opposite side of the Mansion.
Crazy Hand immediately recognized it as the cry of Mr. Game and Watch. As a veteran Smasher, the Hand was vaguely acquainted with the two-dimensional being, and recalled the Smasher as one who left the Mansion without a word. Nevertheless, although his sense of duty seemed as erratic and questionable as ever, at the moment all the Hand decided to do was to pursue the source of the sound, if only to find something to do.
Rocketing away from the Mansion in a small cloud of smoke, a hollow laugh left behind in his wake, Crazy Hand sped away from the Mansion. Through the emptiness, Crazy Hand rushed through it without any other aim.
The digital yell sounded once again, louder, clearer, nearer. This time, it was accompanied by a mechanical beep, which the Hand immediately recognized as R.O.B. Two Smashers! Accelerating, the glove flew at full speed towards a certain vector in space, towards golden glimmers that seemed to reflect light.
As the Hand caught up to the glimmering trophy of Mr. Game and Watch, lazily floating about in space, Crazy Hand came to a full stop right next to it. Nearby, the R.O.B. trophy was also suspended in space, moving along at a leisurely pace. Hesitantly, pausing, the Hand glanced around. No, nothing seemed out of the ordinary, except the giant horde of hostiles charging at him.
Crazy Hand froze.
All around him, suddenly materializing out of the air, were crowds and crowds of little humanoid creatures. Clad in green, they might have passed for Link if not for their short stature, black faces, dead eyes, and copious amount of purple snowflakes leaking out of their backs. Nevertheless, they raised their weapons and charged, screaming and yelping as they neared the Hand.
To rid himself of the burden of carrying the trophies back, Crazy Hand prodded the base of each trophy with a single gloved finger. To his considerable surprise and amazement, the glove simply passed through the base as if nothing was there, the trophies shimmering in and out of visibility like – a hologram. A trick, a trap, and the Hand had fallen in the middle of it, swallowing the bait hook, line, and sinker.
It was a circle surrounding Crazy Hand, with himself as the center and the circle rapidly closing in.
Yet Crazy Hand was no easy pushover. And with months of inactivity, he had long been yearning for something to satisfy his destructive tendencies. Finally. Crazy Hand cracked his knuckles, the pops resounding loudly and eerily in the face of the large army rushing straight for him, letting loose a crazed, high-pitched, and long laugh.
Spreading his hand, a beam of black-tinted light shot forth from each of his fingertips, which sped out and struck the frontline of the incoming horde. Spinning around, Crazy Hand sent a wave of destruction amongst the front ranks, an attack which would have easily decimated any incoming force. As if that wasn't enough, the Hand clenched and unclenched his fist, inexplicably doing a single-handed clap: the resulting shockwave reverberated throughout the battlefield and consumed the vicinity in a blaze of darkness, so much so that nothing could be seen for the smoke.
To top it all off, Crazy Hand lifted a single finger, the outline of a humongous golden sphere around him shimmering into existence, surely encompassing most of the enemy troops. Suddenly, and without warning, every single patch of space in that sphere exploded violently with unexpected energy, resulting in a long, reverberating cascade of explosions and so much black smoke filling up the sphere, threatening to split it apart at the seams and spill out.
Through all the chaos, confusion and destruction was heard Crazy Hand's maniacal cackle.
When the smoke cleared, Crazy Hand visibly started in surprise. Not only were the troops not lessened, but they seemed to be continually increasing. Sure, there appeared to be some damage dealt, but far less than what he would have expected. Swiveling around, he quickly saw that their numbers appeared to be increasing still, and these troops seemed to be pouring out from nowhere –
Enranged, Crazy Hand's hollow laugh turned even more hollow and more spiteful, firing off continual barrages of bombs from his fingers. Although each of them detonated with a satisfying boooom, the effect on the enemy seemed to be almost negligible. Alarmed, Crazy Hand twisted his fingers into the shape of a child's gun, charged up a shot, and blasting it towards the enemy troops – again, this seemed to have little effect. Again in this other direction – no effect – in this direction – no effect –
His stamina running low, and the army nearly upon him, Crazy Hand clenched his fist, raising it up slowly. White sparks gathered around the gloved knuckles, seemingly composed of pure energy. As Crazy Hand began to glow an odd tint of white and black, he emitted a single, deranged, howl, which broke down into a dark chuckle.
Vivid surges of black-tinted lightning exploded violently forth from all parts of the glove, surging through whole sections of the army. Crackling loudly, the lightning fizzled and branched out, electrifying and viciously frying any unfortunate unit standing in its way. It was a spectacular light show, reaching far wider than any of his previous attacks, illuminating the entire portion of space in an immense glow of white and black, followed by loud and persistent crackling.
Crazy Hand loosened his grip on his fist, his fingers relaxing and splaying out, exhausted. Various parts of the glove seemed slightly burnt, blackened parts showing through the otherwise pristine whiteness of the glove. Exhausted, the glove didn't even bother to laugh, but surveyed his surroundings. Not a single army unit was left. They had disappeared, as if they were never there.
Never there. Never there? Crazy Hand whipped around, staring straight at Tabuu, who had assumed a half-standing, half-crouching position, a hand placed on his chin to suggest an image deep in thought. More disturbingly, even for Crazy Hand, a chain of light could be seen emanating from Tabuu, stretching for a while before it ended at –
Crazy Hand jolted as he recognized the right-hand glove at the end of Tabuu's golden leash.
Charging up all his remaining power into his fist, Crazy Hand barreled straight at Tabuu without so much as a chuckle, leaving Tabuu with no time to even react. Even though sparks were created and flew off Crazy Hand's knuckles as the Hand soared past, Tabuu apparently didn't feel a thing. Wheeling around in the air, Crazy Hand saw that Tabuu had simultaneously reappeared elsewhere, still staring at Crazy Hand as if he were issuing a challenge.
The Hand wasn't going to back down from a challenge. Rushing full speed at Tabuu again, Crazy Hand once again found his effort thwarted by Tabuu simply not being at the right place at the right time. Abandoning that tactic, Crazy Hand once again held up a finger, the outline of a sphere glowing into existence. Bombs of his making materialized in different locations of the sphere, then simultaneously violently detonated, flooding the sphere with a dense smoke.
Through the smoke the Hand shot once again, aiming for where Tabuu was last. As he neared, Crazy Hand saw a glimpse of Tabuu's blue head, and made sure his fist was sure to connect with it.
Yet something somewhere went horribly wrong, as Crazy Hand once again shot past Tabuu, who had once again reappeared in front of Crazy Hand, with Master Hand still on the end of the macabre leash of golden light he held. This time, the leash jerked into action, Master Hand soaring upwards to meet Crazy Hand. Two fingers raised, golden circles started spinning on Master Hand's gloved digits. The exhausted Crazy Hand tried to block his attack, firing off a couple of bombs in his direction.
The bombs seemed to hit, but as the smoke cleared, Master Hand seemed to pass through it as if nothing had happened. Crazy Hand neatly avoided Master Hand's furious swipe, which resulted in the two Hands facing each other – Crazy on one, Master and Tabuu on the other.
Master Hand raised his fist, knuckles crackling with blue energy. The surrounding atmosphere seemed to tense and fill with the energy, pulsating a soft blue hue. Crazy Hand attempted to repeat his feat from just now, a sphere of dark energy ballooning into existence around him, white-and-black lightning flashing about his knuckles and wrists.
And as suddenly as it happened, it was over.
There was a massive explosion, and Crazy Hand was flung backwards, somersaulting over himself as he reached his limit and all his energy collapsed in upon itself. Tabuu and Master Hand paused, then faded from visibility. Crazy Hand, however, lay floating on his back, gloved fingers occasionally twitching, but definitely down and out for the count.
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Well played, I'm sure you'll agree. Tabuu mused, hand over chin. No matter what he did, he felt Master Hand's spell over his body, permanently encasing him in this position. As the two beings collided and attacked, Master Hand had cleverly managed to spin a web of spells about him, causing his body to freeze and lock into that position. An unexpected move from Master Hand.
No matter, Tabuu had brushed the thought aside. After all, look who came out the victor. At the end of his Chains of Light was Master Hand, one Chain to each of his fingers and thumb. All he had to do was think – and the Hand would jerkily respond and do anything he commanded.
Except removing the spell, Master Hand seemed to have autonomy over that. No matter, thought Tabuu, it is but a minor inconvenience.
But back to the issue at hand, Tabuu now had Master Hand pick up the little trophy which had toppled over and now lay spinning on their chessboard. The gloved fingers closed about the trophy base, bringing up the miniature representation of Crazy Hand and tossing it carelessly towards Tabuu's side of the board. Good.
It's amazing how to capture destruction – simple, unreal illusions, and a lot of time and planning. Tabuu inwardly congratulated himself on his skill, netting himself not one, but two Hands! The other Hand was attached to another set of Chains of Light, but being unconscious was now alternating between lying down peacefully in the corner, and fitfully fidgeting.
Ah, but this is just the opening game, Tabuu stared intently at the board – or as much as Master Hand's spell would allow him. And as expected, I'm winning. Under his command, Master Hand's fingers moved to another spot on the board, hovering over another group of golden-based pawns.
Time to make things more interesting.