Guilty Ones

TW: Violence, disturbing imagery, gore and an unhappy ending

October 10, 2016

10:45 p.m.

"Are—are you serious?" spluttered Abate. "That wasn't us, L!"

"L, please," Eddy said shakily.

"It was not us," reiterated Abate. "I promise you, L, it wasn't us!"

"When you were fighting that match, I was eating breakfast with Mr. C," explained Eddy. "I was giving him a pep talk after that nerf. There was no way I could've seen that fight or recorded it! I was still in that diner with Mr. C when I heard the news!"

You know, it takes a while for a video to upload to YouTube. It could've been uploading while you were in the diner.

"When did the match end?" asked Eddy.

Oh, about 8:30 or so.

"I met Mr. C in the diner at 8:00. I drove there straight from my house. I wasn't in the audience that day, and I sure didn't record you being beaten up by those heathens! When I got the call, I wanted to rip their freaking heads off! I sped over there like a demon to comfort you. Don't you remember?"

"Yeah, and—and—I was getting ready for another Melee bracket!" Abate put in. "I was over at Armada's place, practicing! And when Eddy called me with the news, I tore out of there, hopped on the commuter and met him and Mr. C to pick up Isai and Blayd. Then, we went straight to your place! It was physically impossible for us to record and upload that video given the time frame of these events. We both have alibis!"

Luigi ignored them and began to count down.

"Please, Luigi—it wasn't us!" interjected Abate.

Luigi responded by messaging Abate via Facebook: I know you wouldn't do this, Steve.

You—do?

Yeah, my friend, that's just not your type. So—why are you protecting him?

He's just as innocent as me!

Or because you're best buddies and doubles partners. Let me ask you something—do you know anything about Eddy personally, outside of the tournament universe?

Well, he just met someone, and—

That's not what I mean. What makes you think he's always the affable person he presents himself as?

Look, he told me a bit about his personal life, and I don't see him bullying people!

Steve, don't you want this to be over?

Throughout this conversation, the timer continued to count down.

Yes.

Good. Then man up, stop trying to paint Eddy as a white-robed saint and tell the truth. You know what they say—the truth will set you free!

"Eddy," choked out Abate. "Are you sure you don't hate me? Can you truly forgive my sins? I'm sorry for what I've done…"

"Shh—shh—it's over now," Eddy said softly. "It was just the situation and the danger making me act like that. I could never ask for a better teammate than you, Steve."

"That's good, Eddy. That's very good," said Abate as the timer reached 5. "Then I hope you'll forgive me for what I'm about to do."

"Do what?" asked Eddy. "Abate, what are you talking about? What are you…?"

With three seconds remaining, it was now or never for Steve Abate. Swallowing back the lump in his throat, he typed the three words which would seal Eddy's fate: It was him.

Abate sent the message and held his breath.

He then saw Eddy, standing there like a statue, his eyes downcast. He was sopping with sweat.

"Eddy? Eddy, look at me. Look at me!" shouted Abate. "EDDIE!"

The camera swung down to reveal a kitchen knife, which swung upward in a vicious arc and plunged into Eddy's chin. His mouth open, revealing the glistening point which had penetrated his lower jaw. He released a gurgling scream as the knife pulled out before driving deep into his cheekbone, and then his other cheekbone. Blood and chunks of gums and teeth tumbled out of his mouth. Next, the knife stabbed Eddy through his left eye, through his right eye and finally into the center of his chest, dragging down past his navel as blood spritzed all over the camera lens. The blade remained buried inside his abdomen as he slowly fell backwards, hitting the ground with a sickening thud.

"Eddie! Oh, God, no! Eddie!" Abate screamed in horror.

And then the connection went dead.

Steve Abate was alone.

He began to sob hysterically, uncontrollably, as "The Way We Were" came on over his media player. "I'm so sorry!" he hiccupped. "Why did it have to end this way?"

Thank you, Steve, typed Luigi. That must have been very difficult for you…

"No, please…"

So, just one more thing…

"What—what…?"

Luigi initiated yet another countdown, from 45 seconds.

"Why are you counting down?" demanded Abate in a high, shrieking voice. "What do you want from me?!" He sobbed profusely. "Don't you remember? All of the fun times and the moments we shared together? The tournaments we won and lost, the different Nintendo consoles and games through the years and how Melee survived after that? Remember every EVO? Every Smash Con? Every quarter final, semifinal and final? Remember how we beat Mango and Leffen and ZeRo and Westballz—and Hungrybox? Remember Project M? Remember how you had those nightmares after those people turned you into a bad guy? Remember the encouragement I gave when you told me you had to rescue Mario? Every combo video and montage featuring us? You were my main, Luigi! In my hands, you took on the world! I would never hurt you—I knew from the beginning that out of everyone on the Melee roster, you would stand out; you, Luigi Mario, would take me to a whole new world! And so you have. Luigi, you are my best friend, for better or worse! I'm sorry I wasn't there for you, but I will be in the next life! Please…"

Abate clicked on Luigi's profile link and selected the "See Friendship" command, scrolling through the old photos as he delivered his mea culpa. "What do you think I did, Luigi?" he moaned, swiping at his eyes with his sleeve. "Look at us! Look at how happy we were!"

How could I forget? Luigi asked.

"I know we drifted apart after Smash 4, and I'm sorry for that!" sniffled Abate.

"Drifted apart"? Is that how you remember it? I think there's more to the story…

3—2—1—

A Facebook notification announced that Luigi tagged Abate in a video.

Steve clicked on the notification, which took him to the "Kill Urself Luigi" video.

"No…" he squeaked out.

In the video, Luigi was curled up on the stage, covered in blood and bruises, sobbing quietly in humiliation. His swollen, blackened eyes shot the camera a look that could kill right on the spot.

"Why?" he sobbed. "Why?"

Blood and snot pooled from a broken nose, the camera zooming in on every last one of the plumber's injuries and panning across his body. Off the camera, soft chuckling sounded. "You okay, buddy?" asked a voice.

"I thought you cared about me," Luigi choked out as the voice chuckled again.

The camera then zoomed out, offering the viewer one last full profile shot of Luigi, before the lens swiveled around.

Revealing Abate as the culprit.

The gamer wanted to be ill as he watched himself stifle a full-blown laugh. His eyes smiling directly into the shot as he proclaimed, "I got him!" He doubled up then, succumbing to a fit of laughter.

Steve's hands shot to his mouth. "I'm sorry," he croaked. "I'm sorry."

What you've done, typed Luigi, will live here forever and ever, even after you leave this earth to face the Eternal Flame!

Steve gripped the edges of his desktop, waiting in suspense.

Then, it was open season for him on Facebook.

Steve, you killed him! That was from Peach.

U freaking monster! That was from Little Mac.

Kill urself! That was from Samus.

You're going to the Ninth Circle of the Inferno for this! That was from Mario.

I'll never speak to you again, vowed Rosalina.

Ur not serious, OMFG. That was from Daisy.

This is disgusting! That was from Toad.

Even I wouldn't do something like that! That was from King Koopa.

Me neither! That was from Ganondorf.

Or even me! That was from King Boo.

U have no respect for society! Wario charged.

As the Smashers, Assist Trophies, residents of the Mushroom Kingdom and friends and relatives from Brooklyn raked Abate over the coals, Luigi sent out one final, haunting message:

I wish I could forgive you, Steve.

With those parting words, Luigi signed off.

Everything was quiet.

Abate sat there, hugging himself, shivering as chill bumps speckled his skin. His face was still streaked with tears. He said nothing, save for the occasional weep or whimper. His friends were dead. Everyone turned his back on him. He was alone.

Alone.

Or was he?

Creeeeaaaaak…

Abate whipped his head around. "H-hello?"

Small tremors wracked his body, increasing to jerky heaves as he sensed another presence in the room.

SLAM! A pair of gloved hands slammed Abate's laptop screen shut.

Abate's blood ran cold as he found himself face-to-face with the ghost of his main. Pale skin, disheveled hair, rumpled hat and clothes and shadowy, sunken eyes of azure venom.

"L—Luigi?" he stuttered, unable to move.

"You're next," the ghost stated in a low, sinister tone.

Steve Abate screamed in abject terror as Luigi's ghost pounced on him.

Isai.

Steve Abate.

Eddy México.

Blayd.

Mr. ConCon.

Boss.

These six men had one thing in common.

They were Smash players.

And their blood, sweat and tears were poured into one Smasher.

Luigi.

The man in green thought that they were the only people who could truly understand him. He thought he could truly understand them. He thought he could trust him.

Because they clicked so easily.

Luigi loved the men who mained him, and he thought they loved him, too. They could've spent the rest of their lives taking on the world of Smash together.

But on October 4, 2015, everything went horribly wrong when Steve Abate stabbed Luigi in the back.

Six days following Abate's stunning act of treachery, Luigi ended the lives of eight of his tormentors before ending his own.

One year after his death, he returned to complete his revenge.

What can we learn from this?

Well—

Online, your memories last forever.

But so do your mistakes.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN! :D

Thank you pichuplayer and Steel Magic for your reviews!