The squealing hinges creaked, announcing his entrance.
Sneaking past the oxidized gate, Luigi slipped inside and walked slow, loosening his shoulders and shaking away his pent-up jitters. He braced for the encounter ahead. Even though the Poltergust canister was practically empty, it weighed heavy on his back, reminding him of what was at stake. He held tight to the machine, gripping the makeshift, duct-taped nozzle so hard his knuckles paled. Bits of rust, sloughed off from gripping the gate a little too hard, lodged in the crevices of his palms.
He curled up, covering his face best he could in his cloak. Dead foliage, leaves, and branches crunched beneath his boots as he crept closer to the viridescent outline of the gravekeeper.
Each crackling made Luigi flinch, but the ghost didn't stir. In fact, he seemed preoccupied. Since first making eye contact with Luigi, his stretched head had already returned to the grave he was tending to, paying little mind to Luigi's slow movements.
He hoped upon hope that the caretaker would remain busy with his personal chore list rather than tend to the potentially grieving graveyard visitor. He wondered if any living soul who visited received the same inhospitable welcome he had last night. Not asking questions, Luigi counted his blessings. After all, this meant he still grasped the element of surprise.
He squinted. With each step inching closer, he tried to get a better look at the ghost ahead. The ghoulish glow of mint-green reflected in his eyes. To his relief, the too-long limbs held up what he was searching for: the glowing lantern. The other sagging arm held a rake shuffling along the ground. The caretaker groaned, ambling as he tended to the soil.
Luigi inhaled and held his breath as best he could. Any noise might mean detrimental consequences. Polterpup, meanwhile, didn't quite get the gravity of the situation. He trotted along without a care in the world.
"Shhhhh," Luigi whispered. "Quiet, doggy."
Polterpup floated off the ground at his command.
He tried to keep track of what sounds the two were making, fearful another might join him. He stepped carefully around plots labelled as final resting places. He knew better than anyone that death was hardly an eternal label; he didn't want to stir anyone from their rest.
The further he went, and the closer he got to the caretaker, he realized he didn't have much of a plan. It was so simple in his head: capture the ghost, get a reward. That's how it always worked. In this case, it was just a little different. The plan right now was to capture the creepy bean ghost, recover the Beanstar piece, and then protect said piece with his life. Heck, that was usually E. Gadd's plan whenever he shoved Luigi into a ghost-infested manor. He left it up to him, he trusted him, so much so that Luigi always had to figure out what to do in the heat of the moment, all on his own. And thus far, he'd avoided potential heat at all costs.
Perhaps, if an entity of luck was looking down upon him, he might be able to snatch up the lantern without the caretaker noticing. Maybe even have a civil conversation with him! Based off the ghost capturing trip he'd done with Peasley, the bean ghosts seemed to have been adapting fine to the Beanbean Kingdom. They attacked when provoked or bothered; that was normal enough.
But that all happened before King Boo showed up.
Luigi cursed the villain's influence, punctuated with a swift kick to a nearby pebble. A glare tightened in his eyes as he thought back to Boo's horrible, sickly laughter. His blackened, rotting heart. His too-wide, too-cruel smile.
His frown only deepened the more he thought. If he could just explain that the Beanstar being patched back together was a good thing for everyone, then maybe this wouldn't be such a nightmarish quest. The Beanstar being restored meant Boo would be eradicated. The kingdom would be safe. Everything would go back to how it was.
If they could all just understand him, and listen—
He walked without thinking. Which was a bad decision, because when his head wandered off, so did his common sense. That meant no alarms went sounding as he stepped forward, left foot hovering over emptiness: a dug, unoccupied grave.
He put his weight forward. Immediately, he plummeted below, landing six feet under face-first. The resulting thud rang in his ears, making him lose vision for a blurry amount of seconds. Or maybe the ringing in his skull was a byproduct from the fall, resulting from tripping and landing a few feet into a human-sized hole.
"Nngh..."
Pain shot through him like a skewer. Landing on his belly meant his Poltergust and bag (including the fragile collection of Gooigi's remains) were safe. But that also meant the rest of his fleshy, human body had just been subjected to flattening on the ground like a hotcake. He groaned and lifted his head unsteadily, spittling, wiping muck from his lips. Particles of dirt dusted through the hairs of his mustache.
Once he lifted his head enough, delicate on his neck in case it was broken, he ran his tongue throughout his mouth out of instinct—a numb panic gripped him as he searched for all of his teeth. Eventually, with a sigh of relief, he got all of them accounted for. He wobbled as he sat up, placing his weight on the front of his arms.
He turned over on his side. A blur of white roamed in his peripherals, but the buzz in his mind blocked it out. Something chilly met his side; a few anxious licks and whimpers let Luigi know Polterpup had jumped in after him. After a few hearty barks, he realized perhaps Polterpup's loyal presence wasn't such a great idea for laying low. He seized the pup in his trembling arms, shushing him fervently and holding him to his chest. He wrapped up in his cloak, as though that might muffle Polterpup's rapid panting and his own ragged breathing.
The ringing in his ears slowed. He strained to listen. Through the muddled, whistling white noise, a faint crack sounded. Wind whistled above, rocking the leaves and sending a few breezing along in the air.
He registered the glowing first, as it appeared above his head, before he registered the gravekeeper's face. The ghost appeared above, leering, looking down with sunken eyes into the hole. His eyes, hollow as the first time they'd met, stretched, looking like they might drip right off his face. Despite his almost skull-like features being plastered rigid, his expression was anything but welcoming. A grisly, gargled exclamation of "you" left gooseflesh pricking on Luigi's skin.
The flowers in his chest pulsated wildly as he realized who the stranger lying in the grave was. Luigi scrambled to hide himself, but his telling features had already been seen. He watched the caretaker connect two and two in his head, and then more—he had his adversary right where he wanted him, in a marked grave with no way out. If the ghastly corpse could smile, Luigi was sure he would.
"W-Wait—"
The ghost floated back, disappearing from sight.
The moment of unresolved tension left Luigi a mess. He realized there was no use in trying to stay quiet. He whimpered, struggling to sit up further. His poor ankle had suffered enough abuse in the previous week, and he'd already injured it again in the fall. Harsh stinging rattled his spine, crawling its way up throughout his body. He gasped out air.
The glowing appeared again in his peripherals, but it wasn't Polterpup, who remained obediently in his hold. The caretaker had returned. Luigi's vision was blurry with pained tears, but he could make out a shovel in the ghost's withered hand. His vision faded in and out. He watched the ghost's face, then his tail as he turned away. Luigi gasped in terror as his ears picked up on the scraping of metal meeting dirt. That left a crystal-clear image for Luigi's imagination.
He sat up slowly, steadying his limbs as he did. He had some drive to get up and get away, but the pain hadn't yet numbed. His hands groped uselessly, trying to get to his bag and the Poltergust's nozzle.
The first sum of dirt was lifted into the hole. The ghost groaned wordlessly, like he had liquid in his throat, as he taunted Luigi. The shallow pit wouldn't take long to fill.
Polterpup barked. He didn't want to wait around for Luigi's full consciousness to return. He wriggled and threw himself out of his arms.
"Polterpup!" Luigi screamed. His throat burned.
In a flash, his dog was out of the pit and tackling the caretaker. The taller ghost stumbled, losing his grip. Luigi recognized the distinct sound of the shovel hitting the ground. The danger was gone for as long as Polterpup could distract him... but who knew how long that would be?!
Luigi trembled in pain as he stood up. In the dim lighting, he couldn't see his wounds, but he knew he'd have some pretty nasty bruises to marvel at come tomorrow morning. Standing at full height, he was only a few inches below the surface.
He stood on his tippy-toes, wobbling unsteadily to grasp the edge of the pit. His fingers slipped, calluses filling with dirt. If he was in better shape, both physically and mentally, this might have been a breeze. Jump off one side of the pit, leap to the top, stick the landing, easy! Or maybe he could just grip the edge and pull himself up. It should have all come so simply. He wanted to get the weight off his back, but he couldn't risk leaving his things behind. He needed that ghost, and he needed the piece. It was so simple in his head.
Frustration brought tears to his eyes. So simple… so, so simple.
Why can't I do it.
He wiped at his face. He bent down, knees shaking with sustained pressure. He inhaled and exhaled a good number of times before he jumped. Leaping up, the Poltergust rattled on his back. It was like he could feel the ghost inside moving around. He supposed his shoddy attempt at constructing a Poltergust out of scrap metal would leave some less than desirable elements.
Despite his best efforts, his fingers caught the edge but didn't go further than that. He slipped, sliding back down into the grave. He fumbled to stay on his feet. He apologized partially to himself and partially to an unseen: perhaps the ghost and Gooigi remains on his back. Loneliness hit him hard.
It didn't stop him from trying again. He steadied, jumping. He tried to imagine the weight on his back was gone. He cried out, shuffling against the dirt, writhing against the edge. He managed to paw away at some of the rim, leaving more leverage with each jump. He jumped, trying again and again, until his hands were entirely stained with grass and mud.
Polterpup's fierce, distant barking returned his focus. He couldn't stand the noise since he'd last heard it up against Polterkitty's yowling. Coupled with intermingled whining, Luigi scrambled into standing. He needed to ensure his pet's safety.
He breathed, crouching, mustering what little determination he had left. He vaulted against one side of the pit, leaping up to the edge with hands outstretched. And like waking from a nightmare, he cleared the edge, landing with one forearm planted firmly, his free hand soundly gripping the rim. He exclaimed in feverish relief as he crawled up onto solid ground, staining his pants with blotches of green and brown.
He lifted his head. His attention went back to the world around him. Polterpup was engaged in a heated battle with the other ghost, the corpse-like caretaker running in circles as the dog chased him around, barking madly. The caretaker spied Luigi in the commotion, gasping out.
Luigi moved to help Polterpup, but stumbled over something solid on the ground. Just like he'd heard before, the ghost's shovel had been dropped in the manic chase. Luigi bent down and grabbed it by the handle, wielding it gratefully. After a moment of thought however, he supposed it wasn't much in the grand scheme of things. Not like it would do much good against gh—
His thoughts interrupted. The earth beneath him cracked and rumbled, more intensely than he'd ever seen the thicket grow. The earthquake sensation was akin to Dr. Potter's castle-destroying catastrophe. The vines, creeping as steadily as they were, suddenly wrapped up around the graves. Shooting out from the ground—like a floor of spikes—came a barrage of vines, sprouting into the air. And from these vines grew branches, their lengths reaching throughout the garden.
Some of them appeared out of graves, some behind tombstones, but all grew the same blossoming horrors on the ends: wooden, flowers-for-hearts skeletons made of twigs and leaves. They moved clunkily, but they were fully formed. Alive, sentient. They ripped themselves down from their branching perches like early, unripe flora. Stalking closer to Luigi with outstretched, skeletal hands, their zombielike movement made him shudder in place.
Luigi looked back at the caretaker, who had both wispy hands on the ground. He was channeling whatever environmental powers the Beanbean ghosts possessed, in order to grow these crude imitations of people.
But that left both of his hands preoccupied, which meant...
"The lantern!" Luigi cried.
Polterpup (who was closer) followed Luigi's pointing. He ran to the lantern, scooping it up in his mouth and dashing across the cemetery. The caretaker stopped once he realized; the skeletons stopped growing in turn. The corpse ghost growled, groaning angrily and keeping up in hot pursuit. Luigi watched the two glowing spectres zip past him, heading toward the far end of the cemetery.
So that left him with—
A cacophony of groaning swarmed his ears. He flinched, entire body buzzing with fear. He turned, cowering at the sight of the wooden, tree-like puppets stumbling toward him. They were slow (which Luigi supposed was normal, for having just been birthed from the earth). He lifted his shovel, trembling. Some of the roots wrapped around his ankles, which he squirmed away from, flailing.
"I-I'm-a not afraid to use this!" he whimpered to the approaching wooden skeletons.
They didn't seem keen on listening. One brought a rotting, swampish hand up, outstretched toward Luigi. It opened its crooked jaws, hacking up chlorophyll.
Luigi winced. He lifted and brought the shovel down. It landed on the skeleton's head with a firm, sound clunk . The wood skeleton dropped fast, branches shattering upon impact. In an instant, the flower blooming in the wooden ribcage wilted, dissolving into dust.
Luigi stopped and huffed, eyes wide and roving. The skeletons were considering their next moves. Some of them stopped. The rustling, creeping sound of crawling roots slowed, all the way to stillness. He held up the shovel defensively, pointing it out to the others. He thought, for a blissful moment at least, that being able to talk the creatures down would be enough. But his 'plant-necromanced-skeleton'-to-human communication skills seemed lacking. They groaned, descending upon him once more.
Trying to ignore the hammering in his chest and the sweat beading down his face, he turned on a pivot, spinning dizzily as he stumbled backwards. He scanned the area. More plant skeletons approached, though thankfully no more were still growing. The gravekeeper and Polterpup were back to fighting: a light show in his peripherals, colliding with each other in brief, bright flashes of light. The caretaker moaned in despair as Polterpup grabbed hold of his wispy tail, stretching him out more than he already was. Polterpup still had the lantern in his jaws, the green, glimmering light pulsating violently.
Luigi's vision drifted.
And curiously, a different glowing visage caught his gaze. He froze.
Two entirely yellow eyes peered at him from the wood. Their height stood at about halfway up a tree trunk, figure almost assuredly human. He thought of calling out to them, but they disappeared as quickly as they came. His body told him to follow but his attention wasn't stolen for long.
A group of skeletons rattled up behind him, clanking twig-like bones together. He whirled around, smacking the undead on the head. With a heavy crack, the wooden skeleton fell into pieces. He gently brushed the woodchips aside, hoping they'd someday grow into something peacefully pretty instead of terrifyingly deadly. Whenever a bony, scratchy set of twig fingers would wrap around him, he would throw them off fast before rapidly sending the shovel into their malformed figures.
He spent the next few minutes dealing with the rest, taking out his frustrations on the onslaught of enemies. Since he'd lost the Slam function on his Poltergust G-00, handling his emotions thus far had been mostly internal: bottled up and left to explode. Any new—especially physical—coping strategies were welcomed. He couldn't stop his brain from fixating on Boo and Hellen, and on what they did to Peasley and Polterpup, and on what they were now doing to the Beanbean Kingdom. It made his insides boil with rage, with sadness, with guilt, with vengeance. He wished he could fix things faster.
He'd suffered enough, hadn't he? Hadn't he earned a single happy, simple ending?
The thought made him tense. He glared at the last few adversaries, shouting as he brought the shovel down from the side, smashing the last of the attacking wooden skeletons into splinters. They flung back, dissipating against a tombstone, pieces carried by the whistling wind. He doubled over with a groan of discomfort, dropping the shovel, back arched over his knees. He spit on the ground. Copper lingered in his mouth.
A sudden, injured howling and whine made his heart sink.
He straightened his back and turned. Worryingly, the lantern was back in the caretaker's withered hands and the howling had stopped. He tried to find the familiar shade of illuminated white. Even the ringing of his collar would have made him feel better. But Polterpup was nowhere to be seen.
His worry morphed to anger.
He ran toward the ghost, adrenaline coursing. He snatched up the nozzle of his Poltergust with both hands. The machine rumbled on his back, rattling to life. He took off his backpack, tossing it aside and withdrawing his flashlight.
The caretaker had his back turned to Luigi. Translucent reflections of glowing mint-green caressed the lantern like it was the most precious jewel. Luigi glowered; it was never his to begin with. As he stomped toward the ghost, all he could think about was how much work the entire royal family had put into ensuring the Beanstar's safety, and how Boo could have convinced these ghosts to do something so heinous. A boiling hatred burst within. He felt like he might explode.
Even if he couldn't fix everything now, he would take this first step.
"Hey!" His commanding, too-loud voice almost startled him.
The caretaker turned slowly, releasing a groan, hollow mouth agape in confusion. He looked like he was melting. Not even the gruesome sight could deter Luigi in his pursuit. He picked up speed and ran to the ghost, lifting up his flashlight. And with a skin-peeled, messy, weary, callused thumb, Luigi flicked on the flashlight.
Instantly, the caretaker froze: stunned. His distorted features were unmoving, hollow and sunken.
Luigi moved mechanically. He planted his feet, readied the nozzle, and pressed down on the suction feature. A sputtering gust of wind started up, whirling into a stronger, powerful vacuum of air. The ghost's face stretched like putty as Luigi drew him in. Even when he pulled away and his ectoplasmic skin pulled with him, Luigi's stance refused to falter. His glare remained as he sucked the ghost into the nozzle, wispy form slowly inching and joining him in the seconds that followed.
One withered hand remained outside of the nozzle, gripping white-knuckled to the glowing lantern. Luigi grunted and threw his weight to one side, knocking the balance out of the determined, half-captured ghost. The lantern fell to the ground, landing on a soft patch of grass.
Finally, the mint-colored, flailing arm went into the machine, popping into the nozzle. A ghoulish, echoing groan emanated from the machine but soon faded into the night. The canister released a satisfying clunk. The caretaker, the grave-keeping ghost, had been captured. Luigi dropped the nozzle to his side.
He rushed to the lantern, picking it up. He fumbled, momentary adrenaline subsiding. He unlatched the outside hook, opening the lantern's side facet with two fingers. Inside, just as he'd thought, was his first piece of the Beanstar. It glowed comfortably in his hands, pulsing at a normal, pleased rate. He remembered (even before this trip) Peasley had shown Luigi the Beanstar many a time when he visited. He knew what it should look like from first-hand experience: without agitation, without noise, without any chaos. The color was right. All it needed was the rest of itself.
A pure, joyful smile reached his lips. Tears of joy might have formed had he not dried up his tear ducts from the previous night. Still, the sounds of happiness that left his throat were warbling, choked with a bittersweet sadness. He brought the shimmering Beanstar piece up to his face, feeling the warmth of the earthy glow against his cheeks. His bottom lip quivered. A shaky, relieved breath left him.
He could do this.
His momentary relief spoiled. Reality hit him, reminding him quickly of Polterpup's disappearance. Quickly, he pocketed the Beanstar piece in his cloak. He curled up in the garment again, as if to blend into the darkness. He knew the confrontation had been loud. Any ghosts might have heard, and they'd come investigating soon enough.
"Polterpup!" Luigi called desperately. He patted his legs, whistling. "Puppy!"
He spun around his foot, looking out for any signs of Polterpup. He used his flashlight, sending the illumination in various directions, as though that would produce his pet's appearance any sooner. A faint rustling sounded, usually indicative of the ghastly pooch, but no substantial evidence of him being alright manifested. He scanned the entire graveyard, but there was still no sign of afterlife. He looked back at his discarded backpack, as though Polterpup might pop his little head out any minute.
"Polterpuppy!"
He turned again, back toward the woods.
His core chilled.
The same pair of yellow eyes looked at him through the trees. They blinked, then tilted, as though curious at the sight of Luigi. He gulped, reaching behind his back for the Poltergust nozzle. He didn't grab it, offering the figure the benefit of the doubt.
"H-Hey, uhm...!" This time, he spoke to the stranger. He swallowed his nervousness. At the very least, if they were mortal or human, they might be able to help. "H-Have you seen—"
"Borf!"
Luigi whirled around. Loyal Polterpup sat behind him, tongue lolling from his mouth. He seemed chipper as ever, maybe just a little ruffled from the fight. Luigi smiled and crouched down, giving Polterpup many a grateful pet.
The question remained, though, of who was watching him. He stood up and turned back to the trees, but once again, the figure was gone.
"Arf?" The ghost dog tilted his head.
Luigi's skeptical gaze drifted from watching the woods. He'd peered deep within, but nary a ghost nor human appeared. He fixed the straps on his Poltergust, turning away. It was heavier now.
"It's nothing..." he said, unsure.
Leaves crunched beneath his feet as he went back toward the spot he'd thrown his backpack, aiming to retrieve it. He'd completed his first task; it was onto the next. He checked on the Beanstar as he went, eying the brilliant, gleaming piece in his pocket. It remained snug.
"Now..." he said, patting Polterpup on the head. "I guess we head toward town. Right?"
Polterpup yipped.
With relief on his face, he walked forward. He turned to the spot he'd dropped his bag. But the sight before him made his blood run cold.
His smile dropped.
The backpack was gone.
He'd spied it moments earlier—it couldn't have been less than a minute—and now it was nowhere in sight.
He gasped in alarm, Polterpup immediately picking up on Luigi's sudden anxiety. He started sniffing around. Luigi looked behind the tombstones and kicked away leaves, using his flashlight to coat the dreary graveyard in searchlight. Nothing revealed the backpack's location. Panicked breathing picked up in his lungs; he needed that bag. It had too many important things. There's no way he could have, or WOULD have lost it, he, he—
Polterpup barked. Luigi's scrambled, blue gaze lifted.
The dog's head was pointed toward the woods, snout lifted into the air. He began growling. Luigi turned, inching in the direction Polterpup pointed. His panicked breathing only increased as he realized what and who was there.
The yellow-eyed figure was back, and they were the one holding tight to his bag. Eyes cast downward, they seemed to be perusing their catch.
"Hey!"
The thief jumped. Their eyes went wide. Slinking back into the shadows, they bolted in the other direction. Luigi watched the leaves and branches rustling in their wake. He tripped over himself to follow, keeping close behind.
"Stop!"
He leapt past the line of trees, snagging his cloak on one of the overgrown thorns. He yelped and wriggled until the cloak tore, ripping Harhall's once-perfect seams, a patch of silky fabric left behind. After checking in on the piece of the Beanstar in his pocket, he picked up the pace, sprinting after the criminal ahead. He kept at a steady speed, darting past the trees and bushes.
He did his best to keep up with the thief, who was a few yards in front of him. He tried his flashlight, but it flickered off. He slapped the barrel against his hand. His thief kept to the shadows, darting from one edge of the forest to the next. Thankfully, the sprawling thicket kept it so that they both had to remain on one pathway. It was only a matter of catching up to them. Polterpup barked at his side, hot on the criminal's tail.
"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon..." He sucked air in through his teeth, continuing to smack the flashlight into his palm. No matter what, he couldn't lose sight of them. "P-Please, wait... hang on for a second!" he shouted, holding out an open hand. His lungs seethed.
The figure most assuredly did not hang on. Instead, they rushed underneath small openings, sliding and slipping easily underneath branches and vines. It seemed like second nature.
If it wasn't for his one-thought brain, Luigi knew he might have lost them in the musty fog already, or might have lost them after tumbling and tripping over gigantic roots. But the determination of getting back his things kept him going. He needed the memories and people attached to it most of all: Gooigi, Gadd, Peasley. He needed it back. Much to his relief, Polterpup guided him through the smaller openings, helping him through the most treacherous parts of the thicket.
Steadily, the gap closed between them. He could hear the rapid breathing of the thief, a mere few feet away.
Once he was close enough, he whistled, siccing Polterpup on the thief. The pup lunged forward, tackling their adversary to the ground with a growl and immediate chomp to the arm. They tumbled over each other, the stranger shouting obscenities into the night. Luigi approached slowly, opting to be careful. Each curse made him flinch.
"Ey, ey, ey! Uncle! Uncle, I say!" the thief cried. "Get back!"
Another snarl from Polterpup left them reeling in pain. Luigi pat his leg. Polterpup let up, but still growled.
"I don't mean any trouble... just please, give me back my bag. Please." He pointed. He made sure to be polite, despite... everything.
"Get your dog offa me!"
"I will, I-I promise."
"Now!"
Luigi's hopeful expression faded. He glared and frowned. He'd had just about enough of being ordered around by everyone. He was alone now; he'd call the shots all he liked. His face, having finally returned some color from his ghoulish encounter earlier, turned red, partially from anger and partially from fluster.
"Bag, first." Luigi folded his hands together, inhaling. His mustache rustled. "Listen. I-I have had a very, very long week. I-a can't take much more excitement. Please… please, just give me back my things," he pleaded.
"Fine. Fine!"
The thief submitted to the rampant request. He threw the bag off his back. Luigi collected it quick. He called off Polterpup as well, who relaxed and trotted back, sitting at Luigi's side.
"I get it, I get it, no bag. But what's your deal, wise guy? What kind of bozo game are you trying to play?" The thief asked. He rubbed at the stinging bite mark on his arm.
"H-Huh."
"I'm tryna pull off a perfectly good heist here, and all you got in that backpack of yours is some jar of expired jelly, half-eaten bars, and some crumpled papers! Where's the treasure, ya' ol' palooka?"
Luigi frowned upon realizing what the thief was talking about. He feigned ignorance.
"Treasure?"
"The Beanstar, ya dolt!"
"I-I don't know what—"
"Sure you do, I saw you. I saw everything, see? I was watching!" The stranger spoke with a toothy grin. Luigi frowned: what a weird thing to admit. "I know you've got that piece. Now... what am I gonna hafta do to get it from you?"
Luigi gulped, but kept to his story. "I-I had to stop the ghost in the graveyard. That's all. W-What, uh, what were you doing there, anyway?" He tried to pivot the conversation best he could.
"Me? Ah. Very moral, ethical things." The thief stopped mid-speech, expression changing. "Oh... ohoho, I see how it is now. You tryna rat me out, is that it, punk? Tryna catch me in the act, eh? I see right through you, copper! I'll take you down with me, pal, don't even try the great shadow thief—"
"N-No!" Luigi threw his hands up. "No. I don't want to do that..."
Maybe he would have, had this been any other scenario. But the clock was ticking and he was running out of options. He couldn't afford any other distractions. He moved, stepping back but keeping his front half trained on the thief. Turning his back for even a second made him an easy pickpocket target.
The yellow eyes squinted at him again. They went from skepticism but changed quick, gaze shifting slightly.
Recognition. "Heeeey. Wait a second... I know your green mug!"
"You... you do?"
"And that mustache too... yeah... yeah! It's all comin' back to me." The thief chuckled. "Sure I do, green. You and that annoying red guy were a reeeeal thorn in my side, ya'know. Where is that palooka anyway?"
Luigi didn't like being recognized when he couldn't even get a good look at the guy. But the light of his flickering, unreliable flashlight revealed the figure's skin color: beanish. Their yellow eyes were obscured by a mask. He went through his memories, sifting. They'd fought a lot of baddies the first time they were in the Beanbean Kingdom.
One of them emerged from the clamor of kingdom denizens in his head: a thief— they'd only had a few encounters with him, but... Peasley dealt with petty thievery all the time! So many people were willing to cause a stir. Wracking his head, he knew this one had a reputation. The name escaped him. That being said, it probably wasn't such a great idea to stick around.
He stepped back.
"What does a goody-two-shoes like you even want with that Beanstar piece, huh?" The thief tried to close the distance, but Polterpup didn't let him, growling and leaping out in front of Luigi. He flung himself back, knocking back against a tree. "Eeh! Down, mutt."
Luigi took Polterpup's distraction to hide his piece of the Beanstar in a hand, shuffling in his cloak pocket.
"I-I..." he paused, not wanting to mention King Boo or Peasley at a high-stakes encounter like this. "I'm trying to fix it."
"Fix it?" The thief shook his head, befuddled. "That's- well, now that you mention it... I mean. I guess it would sell better if it were all in one piece..." he schemed out loud. Luigi didn't want to hear it. He spied a glance behind him, ensuring his getaway path was clear. "Hey, hey, hey, wait! We gonna make a fair trade for this thing or what?"
"What? I-I said, I don't—"
"Not yours, idiot. Mine!"
At that, the thief dug into his pockets. He withdrew a glowing artifact, similarly sized to Luigi's own. It was shaped more hexagonally, the brilliant sparkling glow reflecting in Luigi's wide-eyed face. It was a Beanstar piece, no doubt. Granted, it was a little grimy, but it was a piece all the same.
"You like that, huh?"
"How did you—"
"I found it, see. Fair and square." He stuffed the piece back in his pockets. At Luigi's skeptical expression, he continued. "Ya'see, some of the ghosts in the valley were playing with it. Tossing it back and forth... they didn't even know how much it was worth! The suckers were just begging the great shadow thief to take it off their hands! Not like they'll miss it anyway. Right, green?"
Luigi's gaze was fixed. Against his better judgement, he took a few steps forward, back toward the thieving trader. He snickered, rubbing his fingers over the Beanstar piece in hand.
"Yeah, yeah, that'll do just fine. If you're not willing to part with those pieces, which I know you have," he added indignantly, "then we'll make a trade. I hand over this, you hand over..." He thought for a moment, rubbing his chin. "You think I could train that guard dog of yours, green?"
"I'm—" Luigi shook his head, befuddled. "I'm not selling you my dog."
"Darn. He would have made for a great Rookie with that bite..."
He thought for a moment longer before snapping his fingers, eyes widening. An idea popped into his head. The toothy grin returned.
"A-ha! Here we go, here's my deal. Hear me out, green, you're gonna like this one. It'll be easy, even for you."
Luigi leaned back. He was almost afraid to ask. "What is it...?"
"See, it's just a little favor I need. A small thing. I have a rendezvous over at Hoohoo Mountain. I do most my business"—he deliberately stressed the word as though it would give him more legitimacy—"there. I've wanted to get out there for a bit, but the ghosts ain't too kind to the Hoohooligans. So I need an escort. And you fit the bill perfectly, green! I saw how you handled that creep at the graveyard."
Luigi glanced back at his Poltergust. "So... I escort you, catch the ghosts in your way, and you give me the next piece?"
"Bingo! You'll be my personal Rookie for a day. If things go to plan, after we're done, I'm outta here. I'll have everything I could ever need for bunkering down."
Luigi frowned.
"I'm going to have to steal some stuff... aren't I?" he asked.
"Steal?" He shrugged. "We're living in the midst of an all-out onslaught, green. Stealing is like... a drop of water in a massive sea of trouble, see? That's just how it works."
Luigi shook his head. "But I'm not—"
"Not a criminal? Cripes. Well I know you're no shadow thief, but I saw you out there! You have enough strength and stupid, passionate heroism for the both of us. I have the cunning, see? You're the muscle... from your use of that machine, that is. You protect me, and I give you the Beanstar piece, easy. We part ways, nothing more, nothing less. This is a very good offer, if I do say so myself. You might want to take it."
"But…"
"So do we have a deal or not? We're losing nightlight, green!"
Luigi squeezed his eyes shut. Without going along with his wishes, greedy as they might be, he'd never get the next piece. Unless Luigi stole it himself, which seemed like great irony. He knew he couldn't pull it off though. His clumsy, good-hearted nature didn't lend well to heists.
He looked to the horizon blocked out by the ravaging thicket. The moon dropped slowly in the distance, steadily tucking into the faraway hills. Honeyed gradients of reds and oranges awakened chirping critters. The vines around them rustled, punctuating the pause between the two as Luigi contemplated his choices. Only one was obvious.
He mustered up the courage to find his voice.
"Deal."