Little Mac accidentally destroyed a punching bag after five thousand consecutive strikes.
The term "five thousand" was no exaggeration, for there were techniques in such excessively long training sessions that allowed him to continuously train himself without taking a break. He did not know just what the punching bag was made of, but it lasted several hundred more strikes than the thick sandbags he used.
The boxer sighed. He needed to get better. He needed to get a target that would not break at all.
He stared at the punching bag lying down on the ground, knocked straight off of the stand. Some weird gel oozed out of the bag. The lightweight champion remembered a time where he and Doc Louis once pulled off chains of pranks against each other. One of the pranks involved Little Mac replacing Doc Louis's chocolate bar with a tiny and somewhat sturdy water balloon. Mac still remembered the completely daunted look that washed over his mentor's face.
"This ain't chocolate," Doc said with a wonderfully confused expression. "Who stole my chocolate?"
That day, Doc Louis gave Mac an unusually hardcore running session. The session was practically the only time where Mac got chased by a bicycle instead of being told to follow one.
Little Mac grunted as he pulled the broken punching bag across the gym.
The gym was far larger than the lightweight champion had expected. Perhaps the massive size of the gym made Little Mac feel even smaller than he already was. Then again, for someone nicknamed "Little Mac," Mac himself was not that small. The competition he fought in simply made his name fitting.
Now that he thought about it, other boxers who were not all that tall had begun to jump into the boxing battlegrounds with great motivations after he retired. Most of their inspirations had been Little Mac, who now remained as a legend of the WVBA. Mac felt happy to find that there were others who were willing to overcome their own weaknesses and strive to become number one. The question was "who would become the victor," for there could only be one number one in the world of boxing.
The lightweight boxer heaved the bag to what appeared to be an equipment disposal dumpster. Apparently, equipment was actually expected to break at some point, which meant that the lightweight champion had probably used a very old punching bag. After all, the strange gel that filled the punching bag seemed like it could withstand more than a mere five-thousand punches during a single punch-out session.
After he gathered the weird gel and threw it in the disposal dumpster, he proceeded to enter a restroom installed within the gym.
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Suddenly, a square tile was removed from the ceiling, revealing a speck of black in the fairly bright gym. After a few seconds of silence, a figure slowly came down from the ceiling with a wire connected to his back. Donning a stealth suit and the pose of an experienced infiltrator, the man in the gray suit slowly let the wire move him closer to the ground.
The man, who was directly above the equipment disposal dumpster, opened the lid of the large container, quickly taking out a magazine he left inside of it. As stealthy as a trained infiltrator could be, the man pulled himself back up, happy with the fact that he successfully reclaimed his copy of a Victoria's Secret issue.
Unbeknownst to the stealthy man, Little Mac had gotten out of the restroom quite quickly. The boxer watched the man, whose back and legs were facing Mac, as the spy's wire pulled the man back up. After the unnamed man's entire body vanished, the tile slowly closed itself.
Little Mac stared at the tile for a few good seconds before turning away from the ceiling.
He pretended that he did not just see a turtle in a bikini on the front cover of that magazine.
Mac's pink hoodie allowed made jogging around the gym comfortable. Due to the immense size of the entire gym, he decided that running around the place for one hundred laps sounded like a good idea.
Train. Train harder. Train harder and harder and harder. Train until his heart pounded without beating twice in a second.
The lightweight champion had a talent in rigorously doing a training lesson without taking a break. This particular trait of his made up for the lack of other things he just could not improve upon, as he was able to stabilize his overall fighting style. Since Mac's boxing involved a fair amount of footwork and flexible punches, the champion concluded that leg exercises were just as important as exercises that involved his fists.
He continued to jog, not noticing a yellow creature that slowly crawled its way into the gym.
As Little Mac continued to keep running with his eyes on the floor, another figure entered. The man in red took a seat at a bench, watching the boxer jog his way around the gym for his eighty-ninth time.
Uninterrupted training allowed Mac to finish his jog. A single drop of sweat rolling down his neck, Little Mac took several breaths before catching his breathing pace. The times he spent running with Doc Louis made the jog around the gym feel like nothing. The boxer had to admit that he felt a little tired in general, however. He had not gotten any sleep since he arrived at the mansion.
Much to his surprise, however, a man with a red cap sat on a bench, waving at him with an optimistic mood and an impressed smile. The wearer of the red cap had a particularly interesting anatomy, as his nose seemed quite large. There was also the cartoony mustache right between his nose and his mouth. Crawled up next to the fairly round man was a yellow, mouse-like creature that looked like it was... clapping.
The sight was still better to indulge upon than to watch the sandbag with googly eyes blink.
"Hello!" The man in blue overalls stated, walking up to Little Mac with an outstretched hand. "You must-a be Mister Mac, correct?"
Though he did not know how this Italian plumber knew about him, Little Mac nodded. It may have been likely that the planning of his arrival had been discussed much earlier between the Master Hand and Doc Louis, and the discussion somehow fell into the ears of the current fighters in the tournament. Or maybe he was just overthinking things and the news of his arrival was simply delivered to everybody.
That would apply for Ms. Toadstool as well, whom he thought of as a nice person.
"Mac," the lightweight boxer said as he lightly pat his chest with a glove before moving it towards the Italian's direction. "You?"
"Well; it's-a-me, Mario!"
For once, Little Mac appreciated such a friendly, cheesy line after a whole career of ignoring trash talk from his opponents.
The boxing champion smiled and nodded, appreciating Mario for the greeting. Seeing the smile on Mac's face, Mario brightened as well. The Italian man, who was actually the hero of the same Mushroom Kingdom Princess Peach hailed from, honestly did feel intimidated after witnessing a small bit of Little Mac's training. The boxer had relentlessly destroyed a punching bag that not even Ganondorf could obliterate that easily. A spree of regular punches somehow dented and, eventually, destroyed the sturdy bag.
While Mario did not know about much of Little Mac's actual personality, so far, he liked what he saw within the lightweight champion. For a boxer who had fought within an environment filled with cheaters, the New York boxer did not seem to be annoyed with having conversations.
Though, the plumber had to admit that the boxer was a man of few words. For after the two exchanged greetings, Little Mac simply pointed at a yellow Pokemon, curiosity filling his emotions to the brim.
"Aha! This fella right here is a Pokemon!" Mario explained, watching the mouse-like Pokemon stare at Little Mac with a scrutinizing look on his face. "Pokemon are strange species that lived variously different lifestyles! This Pokemon here is-a Pikachu."
Mac nodded, staring at the mouse creature in awe. It looked... cute. The look Pikachu gave him seemed a little unsteady; almost as if it were about to tackle him like a bowling pin.
The lightweight champion concluded that some fighters might need some time to get used to him. Some fighters just might not get along with him at all, if he applied knowledge from his boxing career into the Smash Bros. Tourneys.
Nevertheless, Little Mac exchanged more friendly chit-chats with the Italian man known as Mario, along with keeping an eye on the timid Pikachu.
Thirty minutes after Mario left to deal with other businesses, Little Mac ran around the gym some more before calling it a day. Walking out of the gym, the boxer headed straight out of the large hallway. He entered the lobby at the first floor.
He noticed two figures sitting across each other. Both of them leaned away from the backs of their chairs, as they were focused on staring down at a small table sitting between them. The white-haired man had a calm and collected expression on his face, while the blue-haired woman, while somewhat calm, had a slightly ticked off expression.
Uh oh.
According to Doc Louis, angry women were like angry Doc Louises that were grounded from eating chocolate. And a Doc Louis that could not eat chocolate was not a dull one, but rather, an extremely angry and hyperactive coach who would surpass anything just to get some chocolate.
Little Mac, with his hoodie still over his head, walked over to the pair.
They were playing Chess.
Chess. Looking at the chess board made Mac realize that much of what he learned from boxing tended to apply for many other things. While Mac did boast a massive amount of power and speed he earned from training, he was unable to reach the level of power Mr. Sandman, the previous champion of the WVBA, carried with great pride. Piston Hondo, one of the more honorable boxers, was faster than a bullet train, and Soda Popinski, a supremely muscular and passionate Russian boxer, had a durability that rivaled that of a zombie's.
So how did Little Mac surpass those who already surpassed him in different ways?
The boxer watched the white-haired man place a black chess piece next to the white King piece.
The Queen sent to trap the King sealed the fate of the match.
"Checkmate," the white-haired man stated with a small smile. The blue-haired woman sighed and shook her head.
Little Mac won by strategy.
No boxer other than Doc Louis had actually specialized in using the opponents' overall fighting styles against themselves. It was a tricky way of defeating the colossal titans of the WVBA, and not only did Little Mac succeed with it, but he also learned a lot from it. Before his path to glory, Mac was far more aggressive and had great impatience with practically everything about his experience in boxing. Intelligence supported the great amount of strength he found within himself, thus empowering him with a standardized arsenal that could completely catch his opponents off-guard.
Swarming... out-boxing... slugging... and even boxer-punching. Mac had to switch around his fighting styles for every opponent, ultimately making him the champion not through a physical talent, but through the gift of intellectual genius. He may not have been known as a very smart man, but he was, for sure, a man who knew how to face odds of many kinds even outside of boxing.
The lightweight boxing champion moved past the two, presuming that they were having enough fun on their own. He took a seat near them, turning the chair so that he could watch the two people playing Chess with each other.
Thankfully enough, they seemed so indulged by the games that they did not notice Mac at all.
"Blast it," the blue-haired woman muttered, shaking her head as she lost yet another bishop. The white-haired man decided to give her some advice.
"Remain calm and think about the possibilities both you and your opponents can fulfill. What could deter me? What could assist me? What could deter you, and what could assist you? You need to keep asking yourself those questions and consistently answer them."
"R-Right," the woman said, looking up at the man before looking down at the chessboard again.
Little Mac felt a little sorry for the woman. Judging by how the man set up his pieces, the man planned on going for an extremely swift attack that could end the game within seconds. He was in a clear position to move his bishop before moving it again and instantly kill the king due to the fact that every piece that was supposed to protect it had already been disposed of. If the king moved, then the rook that remained still would kill it anyway.
Although he knew how to completely turn the tides, the boxer remained silent. He did not want to show off his own knowledge and make others feel bad. Then there was also the fact that Little Mac himself could have been wrong about the white-haired man's strategies.
After a crushing defeat, the blue-haired woman sighed again.
"Robin," she began, though she was quickly interrupted by the man known as Robin.
"Look, Lucina. You're definitely improving. I mean, sure, you may not excel at certain things like I do, but you're still reaching a level that can be respected by others."
Lucina rolled her eyes, briefly looking away from Robin.
Sitting right next to her was a man wearing a pink jumpsuit.
"W-Whoa!" Robin let out, startled by how silently Mac appeared right next to them. "And... who might you be?"
Mac felt tempted to yell out "I'm the Batman" with an extremely raspy and loud voice.
The boxer decided to answer the question he heard two times during his first day at the mansion. It was understandable, considering that Little Mac himself did not even enter the tryouts yet, thus creating the possibility that not everyone would actually remember about a newcomer arriving early. He pat his chest with a boxing glove before uttering out "Mac" once more.
"Well, Mac, my name is Robin," the white-haired man said with a somewhat awkward smile. "The woman beside you is Lucina. She is one of my best friends."
"It is a pleasure to meet you."
"..."
The boxer nodded. He then stared at the chessboard.
"...?" Lucina looked at Mac, then at the chessboard, then at Mac again, before she hesitantly asked, "Do you not know what Chess is?"
"Lucina, you look like you're insulting him right now. He's from Earth, a world that does, indeed, have Chess."
The blue-haired woman stiffened before she mumbled, "My apologies for jumping into conclusions."
Robin chuckled before he turned his attention to Little Mac. The man gave the boxer a calculating look, as if to analyze Mac's identity in general. Thankfully, the pink jumpsuit only seemed to confuse him. Mac felt awkward whenever someone looked at him like that. Then, with a smile, Robin asked the boxer,
"I know it has not been much since we first met, but would you like to play a game of Chess?"
Mac nodded.
He did, indeed, want a good Chess battle.
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A few seconds later...
When Little Mac's white Bishop piece cornered Robin's King, everyone froze.
Wait, Little Mac thought calmly, did I just beat him this quickly?
It seemed far too late for that now, as Lucina raised a trembling hand at Mac.
Uh oh.
"Y-Y-You beat ROBIN IN A GAME OF CHESS?!" Lucina exclaimed with clear shock written over her face. "And only in THREE MOVES?! What on Ylisse is- Robin? Robin, why are you looking at the Bishop piece like that? Wait- NO, ROBIN! Please restrain yourself from destroying the chess piece, Robin! It's just a chess piece, I tell you! Just! A! Chess piece! Robin? Robin?! ROBIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIN!"
Little Mac ran the heck out like there was no tomorrow. Had he known that the strategist known as Robin would have flipped his sh-t, he would have gotten his King sent right up to get killed by a Pawn. It was, after all, sheer coincidence that Robin just happened to get the only piece capable of protecting the king to move completely out of the way.
Needless to say, the sound of electricity and fire being cast behind him absolutely terrified him. From what he remembered, Magic Chess only existed in Hogwarts.
Even then, Magic Chess did not involve the generation of electricity, fire, and the sounds of small-sized explosions.
You're a wizard, Mac baby, the boxer thought to himself in Doc Louis's voice. A wizard at p-ssing people off, that is.