(A/N) Thank you for the reviews- some of which actually did help me formulate an idea for this chapter. And since school ended for me today, I decided to get another chapter out there. So here you guys go!
Pit stirred slightly, turning from his back to his side. His mind drifted aimlessly, crossing over the line of unconscious into conscious, before immediately going back. A few minutes passed before the angel realized that the hushed voices he was hearing were not in his head, but were in fact surrounding him. His eyelids fluttered open, his vision blurry for a moment. He squeezed them shut again, opening to see everything come clearly into view.
He was shocked to find that he was in a decently-sized room, filled with the other smashers. Pit looked left and right, gasping inwardly as he made eye contact with an exhausted looking Lucas, his blonde hair unruly and sticking up in several directions. Pit resisted the urge to hit himself as he remembered what occurred a few hours ago- or at least what he believed to be a few hours ago. The lack of natural light in the dark room made it difficult to gauge what time of the day it was.
"And so he awakens," a voice to his left sneered. Pit turned to see his dark counterpart, Dark Pit, leaning against the gray wall, his arms crossed over his chest. Despite the appearances of many of the others, Dark Pit appeared as though he was barely even touched. The most noticeable disturbance to his ensemble was the tear in his black robe.
"You looked practically unharmed," Pit deadpanned. Dark Pit gritted his teeth at the comment.
"Damn thing caught me off guard. Knocked me out."
The brighter of the two angels scoffed. "I don't know whether to say you got off easy or were just plain unlucky."
"Doesn't matter." Dark Pit closed his eyes and crossed one of his legs over the other one. "There's no way out of here. We're all trapped."
Pit jumped up to his feet, looking wildly around the room. The other angel was right- the room they were all currently in was essentially a box. Each wall and the ceiling included were a gloomy shade of gray, so dark to the point that it could almost be considered black. No windows or doors were present anywhere he looked. It was dimly lit, making it difficult to see anyone who wasn't only a few feet around them. From what he could see, Pit saw a few of the smashers were awake, either conversing to each other or attending to another's injuries to the best of their abilities. Everyone else seemed to still be in a state of sleep.
The angel noticed Snake walking around the enclosed room, running his hands across the wall, occasionally placing his ear up to the wall and knocking on it with a fist.
Curiosity got the best of the winged boy. "Snake, what are you doing?"
The soldier moved a little to his left, repeating the same process from before. "Checking these walls to see if there's maybe a hidden door or a hollow part in the wall to bust through."
Pit merely made an 'ah' in response to the soldier, leaving him to continue his work. The boy made his way over to Princess Peach. The blonde was standing up, slightly leaning over Falco Lombardi, attempting to wrap some torn cloth over one of his wings. The stationary pilot glanced at the angel for a second before his eyes flickered down once again. Princess Peach on the other hand showed more emotion than the bird.
"Hello Pit." She gave him a tired smile, and he then noticed the bags under her eyes. Pit nodded at her as she returned her focus to the task at hand. "Tell me if it's too tight, Falco."
"Peh- I can handle some tight cloth, Princess."
"Glad to hear that." Peach then tugged tightly on the cloth, making the pilot yelp loudly. Falco whirled his head, glaring at her angrily. Peach smiled sweetly at him as she continued to wrap the cloth around his wing. "I thought you said you could handle it?"
"Well I wasn't expecting that."
Pit chuckled at the two's banter, gazing around the room again. He saw the Pokémon trainer, Red, sitting up by the fire on his Charizard's tail, his Squirtle and Ivysaur lying beside him asleep. was rummaging through his coat to see what supplies he had available; a few of the smashers including Olimar and Marth were sitting by him waiting for medical attention. Olimar was favoring his right leg, while Marth had a large gash across his cheek.
As Pit continued to inspect the room they were in, he noticed two things.
One- the conditions of the smashers seemed to get worse as he looked, making it difficult to stomach.
And two- not everyone was here.
"Princess Peach," Pit began, facing the blonde once again. She had finished her work on Falco's wing, and directed her attention to the angel speaking to her, wide blue eyes telling him to proceed. "Where's Mario?" Pit paused, surveying quickly one final time. "And Link? D.K.?"
The Princess' lower lip wobbled slightly. "I don't know." Her voice cracked, and she lifted a hand to wipe the few tears she shed.
"They must have gotten away," Falco spoke up. "Fox too. He isn't here either."
Pit nodded. "A few of them aren't here now that I think about it."
Princess Peach heaved a sigh of relief. "They must have escaped then. There is hope after all."
"Of course there is!" Falco exclaimed, throwing his arms out to his sides. "My boy Fox won't let us down. I'm sure he's out there, with the rest of them, making a plan to come and rescue us from here."
Another thought dawned upon the angel.
"Where exactly is here anyway?"
A large white glove floated over to a glass window. He shook violently for a moment, and then stopped, reducing the tremors down to an occasional twitch here and there. He did not have a set of eyes, but appeared to be staring into the room on the opposite side of the glass. He let out a cackle of laughter, its sound alone enough to send chills down ones back.
"The collection is missing a few trophies," his voice shook with each word he uttered, ending with a crazed giggle.
A low growl was heard in response to the statement. Crazy Hand continued shaking, flexing his fingers wildly. He tapped on the glass a few times, and then stopped, as though waiting for a response from the other side of the transparent wall.
"Stop that," a voice growled. "The monsters we sent out didn't get the job done. No worries however." The being spoke in a low, raspy voice. An intake of air was heard, followed by a release. It continued.
"You have my permission to send out more hunters to retrieve the rest of my collection." The voice shook the entire room, earning a squeak from Crazy Hand. The glove whirled around and began to type on the keys of a large computer quickly without any sign of slowing down. He was about to press the 'enter' key before looking through the glass again.
On the other side of the glass stood a large bookcase with several shelves. On each of the shelves sat figures resembling the different smashers-from Bowser to Palutena to a figure that was clearly Pit himself. The trophies of the fighters were tied down to the shelf they sat on as though they were in danger of falling to the ground below.
Crazy Hand floated without making a sound, admiring the bookcase. He froze as his gaze landed on a larger trophy positioned at the bottom of the bookcase, sitting alone. The trophy was that of a large white glove.
"Brother…." Crazy Hand whimpered. He remained silent, and then suddenly spun around, his fingers positioned into the form of a gun, pointing at the darkness in the back of the control room. His pointed finger glowed red briefly, prepared to fire a bullet, when a dark beam was shot from the dark corner of the room. It struck straight through Crazy Hand, and he fell to the ground with a loud thud, convulsing violently. He made incoherent noises, attempting to form a sentence but failing miserably.
"Fool," the deep voice snarled. "You are under my control. You will follow my orders, or you will perish, along with those miserable smashers and your brother."
Crazy Hand let out a weak sob for a moment. He remained on the floor, making no movement to try and get up.
"Now rise. I command you to summon the hunters and retrieve the few remaining smashers for me."
The glove floated up, albeit slowly. His once white appearance was now faded to a shade of gray, like dry cement. His drifted over to the control panel, hitting the enter key with his pointed finger and turned to face the corner of the room again.
The voice hummed in approval. "Excellent. Once we have all of these monstrosities, I will be able to drain them of their powers and claim this world as mine once more." He paused for a moment. "And you and your brother will be no more. But these are minor details." He laughed maniacally, the room shaking. The sound of fingers snapping resonated throughout the room, and Crazy Hand fell to the ground, groaning. "This world will soon know of and fear the reign of Master Core once again."
(A/N) So now we know who is behind all of this- Master Core from the SSB4 games. Hoo hah.
He has several forms so I am going to try and make use of them, but please have patience with me as I do this.
Anyway, he has the smashers in their trophy forms on the 'bookshelf,' but the room they are in is actually within the bookshelf itself. (Hard to explain so bear with me.) Their consciouses/spirits you could say are alive and well, but are trapped in the bookshelf. If their trophy was to be removed from it, then they would get taken out of the room. So as long as they stay in that bookshelf, they are trapped.
Hope you liked it- a bit of a different take from what the past few chapters have been.
And no- Crazy Hand is not evil. He is under Master Core's control because of his dark magic or whatever you want to call it.
Reviews as always are loved and appreciated! thanks guys(: