For some, lunchtime was a time for rest and recuperation, a single moment to de-stress and regain their strength as they prepared for the next battle. For others, lunchtime was a time for socialization, to catch up with old friends, perhaps meet with new friends, or simply to boast about a recent win to those who would listen.

For a certain boxer, lunchtime was decidedly a time to refresh oneself after a series of heated battles. He walked through the cafeteria, somehow holding a tray of food with his green boxing gloves on.

After searching for the right spot, Little Mac finally sat down on a bench, one that was far away from the likes of Wario and King K. Rool. He began to dig into his meal, a poultry pilaf with a side of lentil soup, and blueberry Greek yogurt for dessert.

"Mmm…" He had to hand it to Chef Kawasaki: for as silly and unassuming as he looked, he was a pretty good cook. The meat was surprisingly sweet for how savory it looked, which was certainly helped by the goat butter mixed into the rice. Little Mac smiled to himself as he imagined Doc Louis eating this instead of a chocolate bar for a change.

Woo-wee, Mac! If this is the stuff you eat as a fighter, then sign me up! Ha ha ha ha!

…Come to think of it, Little Mac had heard that Doc was trying to cut back on chocolate and add in protein. Maybe this would be good for him after all! In that case, he should—

"Oh, excuse me! Is this seat taken?"

Little Mac started. A little yellow-furred dog with her fur in a bun was standing there, with what looked like fish on her tray. She was staring at the boxer with big, inquisitive brown eyes.

"Oh! Uh, no, no one's sitting there," said Little Mac. "You can, if you want."

"Okay!" The dog sat down, took out her silverware, and began to take a bite from her fish. Little Mac followed suit, continuing to eat his chicken. The two of them ate in silence.

If he was being honest with himself, Little Mac didn't really mind this at all. He had friends around here, sure, but not all meetups had to involve talking. Sometimes, it was nice to simply sit down and enjoy each other's company. Doc Louis always said that a telltale sign of a good friendship is when people could just hang out together in a comfortable silence. And, wouldn't you know it, here he was, in a comfortable silence with…

With…

Ingrid? Irene?

Oh, no, don't tell me I forgot her name oh jeez come on man it's been almost a year if she tries to talk to me I won't be able to respond come on you idiot what was it what was it what was it

"Excuse me…" came the dog's voice.

oh noooooooo

Little Mac nearly choked on his pilaf, which he tried to disguise with a cough. "Ahem! Uh, um, yes?" asked the boxer, trying to keep his face as neutral as possible.

"If you don't mind me asking, what are you eating, Little Mac?" asked the dog.

Little Mac swallowed. Now he was in trouble. He didn't know this little dog's name, but she knew his name. "It's, um… poultry pilaf with… curry."

The dog smiled. "Ooh, fun!" She turned to her own meal. "I'm having lemon pepper salmon! Apparently, the fish that Chef Kawasaki serves is imported directly from the Animal Forest! Isn't that neat?"

Little Mac could only smile and nod as he racked his brain trying to remember his new companion's name. Was it Ingrid? Or perhaps it was Ivy? Maybe Iris? …Nah, who was he kidding? She didn't look like someone named Iris.

Then who does she look like?! Did her name even start with "I"?

Little Mac silently chastised himself. It wasn't for lack of trying that he forgot. During his boxing career, most of his opponents were so over the top, he could always match a name to a face. It was very much the same situation here in the World of Trophies. In such a bizarre world, the people he met always made a lasting impression. It was impossible for him to forget a face.

…

…Okay, he sometimes mixed up Marth and Chrom, but that was different.

…And, he supposed, he was currently stuck in this situation where he couldn't remember the dog's name.

Speaking of which! What was Little Mac to do about that? He had to do something, and quickly! Maybe… maybe he could text one of his friends and ask! Yeah, that would work!

Little Mac took out his phone and proceeded to fumble with it for a few moments, very much like someone would fumble with a large layer cake while slipping on a banana peel. This was because he had chosen to eat lunch with his boxing gloves on, a decision that he was beginning to regret. But there was no time to take them off now. Time was of the essence!

Why don't you just ask her what her name is? asked a smarter part of Little Mac's brain.

No way! said a different part of Little Mac's brain. If I asked, she would know that I forgot! Plus, it'd just be awkward either way. Now let's see who I can text… The boxer scrolled through his contacts. One of them had to know!

Barbara the Bat? No, she'd retired a long time ago. She wouldn't know.

Kururin? Same boat as Barbara.

Donkey Kong? Mac was ninety percent sure DK couldn't even type.

Mewtwo? He never answered his phone unless it was an emergency.

Waluigi? No way would he help. …Why was he even in his contacts?

At last, Little Mac came to the Wii Fit Trainer. Yes, that was it! She was nice and held yoga sessions on Saturdays. She'd definitely know! Little Mac poked at his phone's screen to type out a message:

Do you know the name of the little dog from the animal forest? Plz hurry

…Once again, Little Mac's decision to wear his boxing gloves came back to bite him.

Dk yuo knjow teh. name of fhe dlkittke doe fron fhe anime doesn't/?

…

…Stupid autocorrect. Okay, maybe if he typed slowly…

"Little Mac?"

The boxer yelped at the sound of his name, much louder than he expected to. Several lunch-goers turned to stare at him with looks of bafflement, irritation, or subdued amusement. To make matters worse, the dog was staring at him, eyes wide in surprise. In that moment, Little Mac wished dearly to sink into the floor.

"Um, are you all right?" asked the dog.

Little Mac stared dejectedly at her. Jeez, why couldn't he remember this one person? And now he looked like an idiot in front of her and all these people. It was times like these where Doc Louis would tell him to simply swallow his pride. Well, no use in letting this drag on. He sighed. "What was your name again?" he asked.

"Oh! My name is Isabelle!" replied the dog. "It's nice to meet you!"

Isabelle. Of course.

Now that the most stressful six or seven minutes of his life had passed, Little Mac could finally continue his meal in peace. He began to finish off his poultry pilaf, with Isabelle doing the same.

A thought suddenly came to Little Mac. "Hey, Isabelle… you were an Assist Trophy in the last tournament, right?"

Isabelle nodded. "Yes, I was!"

Little Mac nodded back. "Yeah, I remember that! You threw those fruits to heal people, right?"

Isabelle beamed up at the boxer. "Mhmm! I remember when the mayor first got that invitation. It was a little scary, seeing all these… interesting people in one place… but I got used to it!"

Little Mac took a spoonful of soup. "I hear that. Back in the WVBA, I met a lot of people. Some of them more… eccentric than others. But when I got picked as an Assist Trophy, hoo boy, lemme tell ya, the people here in Smash would send the guys back home packing."

Isabelle looked surprised. "You were an Assist Trophy, too?"

"Oh yeah, definitely." Little Mac swallowed his soup. "I was picked way back, back when the program first got started in the Brawl tournament."

"The Brawl tournament…" Isabelle repeated. She was staring at Little Mac, her eyes sparkling with admiration.

Little Mac puffed out his chest, partially out of pride and partially to hide his unmitigated glee that Isabelle was looking at him like that. As cute as she was, he had to maintain at least some professionality. "Yeah, I—ahem! I'm pretty sure that was what got the WVBA back in gear."

"Wow…!" Isabelle was gazing at Little Mac, resting her head in her hands in a manner that forced him to swallow a squeal of delight. "I guess you must have—" The shih tzu paused. Something in the distance caught her eye. Her eyes widened in recognition, and she began to wave frantically. "Hey! Hello! Over here! Excuse me!"

"Huh?" Little Mac glanced over at where Isabelle was looking. There didn't seem to be anyone there… Oh, wait, no, there was someone. From this distance, it looked like…

…

Little Mac froze.

…!

Oh, no.

No no no no no NO NO—

"Dark Samus!" called Isabelle. "Come sit with us!"

Little Mac forced Isabelle's arm down. "What! Are! You! Doing?!" he hissed, his eyes wide with fear. "You're inviting Dark Samus?!"

"Of course I am!" chirped Isabelle in reply. "What's wrong?"

"What— ghhh—buh—Are you serious?!" sputtered Little Mac. "It's Dark Samus! 'The Great Poison Given Form'? The cosmic corruption? An intergalactic threat to all we hold dear? Her?"

"Yes!" replied Isabelle, as if nothing was wrong. "She was an Assist Trophy, like us!"

"Guh—?!" Jeez, was she even listening to him? Little Mac pinched the bridge of his nose. "No, look, she— she's dangerous, Isabelle. She tried to corrupt the universe. Samus hates her guts. Even Ridley steers clear of her. Ridley! How bad do you have to be to get Ridley to avoid you?!"

Isabelle seemed to ruminate on the boxer's words. "That may be so," she began, "but look at Ganondorf! He's a cruel, ruthless and unscrupulous warlock with an unspeakable lust for power, and look! He's been here longer than either of us, and he gets along with the others just fine!" She gestured to the man in question, who quietly sat down next to Yoshi.

"Yeah, but Ganondorf isn't made out of space poison," Little Mac retorted. She probably wouldn't last long in the Bronx, he thought to himself. "At any rate," he said, wincing as Ganondorf casually backhanded Yoshi through a wall, "Dark Samus kinda… she gives me the willies."

"Oh, don't worry," replied Isabelle with a wave of her paw. "I know for a fact the Hands dilute her Phazon when she comes here."

"But still, she—" Little Mac quickly shut his mouth. Disaster was about to strike. Dark Samus was approaching their table. "Oh no, oh jeez, oh noooooo—"

"Dark Samus!" said Isabelle, as though meeting an old friend from years gone by. "Come sit with us!"

Dark Samus made no audible response, instead simply sitting down across from Little Mac, who looked like he would rather be anywhere else. In her hands, she held a tray of an unsavory-looking substance, gathered in a large, glowing pile.

Little Mac scooted away from Dark Samus. "Hey, Dark Samus," he said, hoping that a friendly greeting would deter her from shooting him at point-blank range.

Dark Samus simply stared at Little Mac, who was unsure whether or not he should break eye contact. She made a low hissing sound in response.

"So!" said Isabelle, breaking the tense silence. "How have you been, Dark Samus? What're you having?"

Dark Samus growled softly, keeping her gaze on her meal. Slowly, she dipped her arm cannon into the glowing mass on her tray. The moment it touched the goop, the cannon split apart, absorbing the sludge and making a bizarre sound as she did so. The visor on her helmet (or was that her head?) glowed just a bit brighter.

Little Mac tossed away his cup of yogurt. "Well, I've lost my appetite for the next decade."

Beside him, Isabelle quietly put aside what remained of her fish. "Anyways… I've certainly been busy as of late! Mr. Nook has been talking about a new business venture, and he wants me to help him!"

"Izzat so?" said Little Mac, eager to steer the conversation away from the topic of Dark Samus. "What kinda venture is it?"

Isabelle began to explain to a very attentive Little Mac (and a decidedly less fascinated Dark Samus). Off to the side, Waluigi glowered at the three of them with all the malice he could muster. "Waaaah…" he spoke in an undertone.

Starfy, who was sitting right next to him, looked curiously at the man. "Hey, mister, are you okay?" he asked.

"Of course not," Waluigi growled over his shoulder. "Who do they think they are?"

"Who's they?" asked the star creature with a tilt of his head.

Lyn, who was sitting next to Starfy, rolled her eyes. "He's talking about those three over there," she clarified. "You remember Little Mac, right?"

"Oh, yeah!" said Starfy, eyes widening in recognition. "He's one of our friends!"

"Bah!" said Waluigi, glowering into his meal, a whole raw eggplant that, for some reason, had a mustache growing out of it. "Little Mac is no friend of mine."

Starfy looked confused, while Lyn simply rolled her eyes again. "I can't believe that after all this time, you're still jealous of him," she sighed.

"You're darn right I am!" responded the purple-clad man. "I had way more requests than that two-bit Joe Yabuki! But look where he ended up, with a shiny new gig and a spot on the roster, while I'm stuck here in the reject pile with the starfish!"

Lyn gave Waluigi a dirty look, while the star in question simply glanced dejectedly down at his food. "Hey, leave Starfy alone!" she snapped. "It's not his fault you didn't get invited! And who said you could sit here, anyway?"

"…Phosphora kicked me off her table," admitted Waluigi. "And Daisy threw a plastic knife at me." He picked up his eggplant and took a bite out of it, skin and all. "So how's the gacha life going for you?" he asked through a mouthful of the vegetable.

Lyn bristled. "It's going fine," she said through gritted teeth. "It's a hard life, but we manage. And what about your Mario Kart Tour? Isn't that a gacha as well?"

Waluigi sneered. "It's a living, I suppose," he remarked.

Starfy looked even more confused as he glanced between the two. "What's a gacha?" he asked.

Lyn's face darkened, while Waluigi's scowl deepened. She took a deep breath. "Can I give you some advice, Starfy?" said the green-haired woman. "If someone comes to you with an offer to star in a gacha game, turn and run away. Don't make the same mistake I did."

Starfy nodded slowly. "Okay…"

On the other side of the cafeteria, Isabelle was finishing her exposition on Tom Nook's latest business venture. "You see, Mr. Nook only seems like a cold, ruthless businessman. He's just very insistent about his finances!"

"And he doesn't even charge interest?" said Little Mac. "Where has this guy been all my life?" The three of them sat in silence.

Little Mac coughed. "So, uh…"

Isabelle paused to look at him. "Hmm?"

"I was wondering if you… wanted to… hang out after this? 'Cause, y'know, we're all promoted Assist Trophies here…?"

"Oh!" said Isabelle, realization dawning on her as a blue-and-white exclamation point materialized above her head. "I'd love to!" she replied, her smile as bright as the sun.

Oh my god, thought Little Mac, biting back a high-pitched squeal.

A small growl caught the boxer's attention. He looked up to see Dark Samus, her plate empty, staring straight at him. She seemed to be waiting for something.

Little Mac shivered unconsciously. "Umm—"

"Oh, Dark Samus!" cut in Isabelle. "Would you like to join us, too?"

"I'm sorry, what—"

But to Mac's dismay, Dark Samus made a low, almost agreeable rumble, as if she had simply been waiting for a proper invite. Isabelle clapped her paws in delight. "Then it's settled," she declared. "The three of us are going to have an exciting day out!"

Dark Samus merely drummed her fingers on the table, while Little Mac gave an exuberant cheer… at least, as exuberant he could manage with an alien made of poison right beside him.

This was clearly going to be a very long day.

The three assistants sauntered through the halls, Isabelle taking the lead, Little Mac right behind her, and Dark Samus bringing up the rear. As they passed the kitchen, Chef Kawasaki trudged out the door, mopping his brow. "Jeez…" he sighed, stretching his back and slumping into a chair. "Two meals down, one to go. After that, the day is done, and I'll have no one to cook for but me!" He noticed the trio of fighters standing in front of him. "Oh, hey, Isabelle," he greeted with a wave of his stubby hand.

"Hello, Mr. Kawasaki!" greeted Isabelle, waving her paw in return. "How are you today?"

"Exhausted as usual, but what else is new?" shrugged the cook. "We've got seventy-six of you guys, plus the other assistants, plus more fighters getting invited. Those hands are working me down the bone! …I mean, I don't actually have any bones, but you get what I mean."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," said Isabelle sympathetically. "If you ever feel like you need any, I'd be glad to help you in the kitchen! After all, I've been in charge of a whole town before, so managing a kitchen won't be any problem for me!"

Behind her, Little Mac nodded. "And if it means anything, I can make a mean cup of ramen! Oh, and by the way," he added, "I really liked today's poultry pilaf!"

Chef Kawasaki smiled wearily. "Thanks, Mac. I worked really hard on that one." He slowly got up from his chair. "And hey, if you ever decide to stop in and help me out—and I'd really prefer if you did— I'd be happy to… to…"

The cook's face had gone from a tired but still healthy orange to a sickly pale apricot as his eyes fell on Dark Samus, who was watching him intently. To an outside observer, it looked like the doppelganger was simply observing him as an entomologist would observe a ladybug crawling on a blade of grass, but to Kawasaki's tired brain and wildly-running imagination, it looked very much like Dark Samus was gazing at him as a hungry lioness would stare at a newborn gazelle. That is, if the lioness was made of a radioactive mutagen and was bent on turning everything else into said mutagen. Basically, the chef was scared spitless.

"Uhh… Wow, look at the time," said Kawasaki, slowly backing away. "I better get going! I need to go… peel some… milk!" And with that lame excuse, the chef sped away as fast as his feet could carry him.

Isabelle turned to Dark Samus. "Okay, one thing we'll need to work on is being more approachable. Like, more friendliness and less… intimidation."

Dark Samus simply peered at the shih tzu but otherwise made no comment.

"Hey, guys, come look," said Little Mac, glancing out the window. "There's a news crew outside."

Isabelle and Dark Samus peered out the window. Just as the boxer said, a blue-and-white satellite truck was parked outside, just in front of the fountain. Two mushroom-headed creatures were standing around it, one of them holding a camera to snap photos, the other talking with Mario and Princess Peach. Above them, a bespectacled turtle-like creature riding a cloud with a face on it was holding a broadcasting camera, taking in the sights of the mansion. From what the assistants could see, both the camera and the truck had the same symbol printed on them: a stylized pair of glasses and microphone above a cloud, with the letters MKTV to the side.

"Oh, Mario Kart TV?" said Isabelle, immediately recognizing them. "I didn't expect to see them all the way out here…"

"Well, I guess it's to be expected," shrugged Little Mac. "I got here on some interdimensional subway train, so it's prolly that—wait, how do you know these guys?"

"Oh, I went racing with Mario a couple years ago," answered Isabelle with a wave of her paw.

"Oh. Well, I guess that's—" Little Mac blinked as he did a double take. "Wait, you went racing with Mario?!"

Isabelle looked up at him. "Hmm? Oh— oh, yeah! I guess I never told you about that, huh… See, look!" She took out a small photo from her pocket and showed it to Mac.

"Huh…" Sure enough, it was a photo of Isabelle, riding a motor scooter with a light green body, racing alongside Princess Peach and Yoshi. "I never took you as the racing type, Isabelle."

"Well, what can I say?" said Isabelle with an impish shrug. "I do love my town, but even I need a break sometimes! …Actually, let me show you something! Follow me!"

The shih tzu took off, with the boxer and the alien trailing behind her, leading them down several flights of stairs, out the door and into the garden. Once there, Isabelle reached into her pocket and took out what looked like a perfectly normal green leaf with a hole at its edge. She let it go, and the moment it hit the ground, there was a puff of smoke, and in its place was the same scooter from Isabelle's photo, with a light green and white body, and images of leaves and fruit printed on the white segments.

Little Mac's eyes bugged out of his head. "Holy—! What is that?!"

"It's my City Tripper!" chirped Isabelle. "Mario gave it to me as a welcome gift when I first arrived in the Mushroom Kingdom. Back home, there's not really a lot of room to drive. But out here…!"

Without another word, Isabelle hopped on the scooter, turned the ignition, and was off like a rocket! "Woo-hoo! Go, Isabelle, go!" called Little Mac as she sped away.

Isabelle turned a corner and pushed lightly on the gas. She shifted her weight so that she was crouching over the handlebars and leaned back, letting the front wheel lift up off the ground. And to complete the scene, Isabelle outstretched her arms, letting them catch the breeze as she drove.

It was the sickest thing Little Mac had ever seen.

To Isabelle's right, there was a pile of spare parts and plywood, arranged to form a primitive ramp. She smiled to herself. Perfect.

The shih tzu slammed her foot on the gas as she turned towards the ramp. The wind roared in her ears, drowning out the sound of Little Mac cheering. She went up the ramp, sailing into the air…! As she flew, she leapt off the seat of the City Tripper and posed, pumping a fist into the air as musical notes spawned around her, the sun glinting off her vehicle.

Little Mac whooped and hollered as she landed. Even Dark Samus was observing her with some interest. Isabelle turned back around, went back up the ramp, and went flying off again, spinning her scooter around as she waved to no one in particular. "Do more! Do some more!" cheered Little Mac.

Isabelle was happy to oblige. She performed every trick she knew, both on the ground and in midair. High chair wheelie! Switchback head stand! Shrunk Funk Shuffle! The world-famous Akira slide! Mac had only really seen such motorcycle tricks on television, so it was quite a thrill to see them live, and performed by a cute little dog, no less!

In the air, she mixed things up a bit, performing tricks that didn't even originate from her world. The Brick-Buster Jump! The Twinkle Star! The Cobra pose! The creatively named but still legendary Show-Me-Ya-Moves!

At last, Isabelle came to a stop in front of Little Mac and Dark Samus, doing a sick donut as she did. The boxer clapped his gloved hands in almost childlike delight. Even Dark Samus was applauding, albeit in a slower, more deliberate manner. "That! Was! Siiiick!" yelled Mac.

The shih tzu looked bashful under Little Mac's praise. "Oh, that was nothing special, just some stunts I learned in my downtime… But you, Mac, you're a professional! You must have done plenty of cool stuff during your career! And at only seventeen, too!"

Mac scratched the back of his head. "Aw, c'mon, I haven't done that much cool stuff… at least, not as cool as racing in space with Mario. I mean, all I did was fight a bunch a guys, working my way up to the top of the WVBA… then fought 'em again, up to and including an eight-hundred-pound gorilla…"

…

"...Actually," said Little Mac, "lemme show you something."

"To look sharp, every time you shave!" hummed Little Mac as he walked."To feel sharp, and be on the ball. Just be sharp…"

"That's a nice song," said Isabelle as she followed the boxer. "Where'd you hear it?"

"Oh, I heard it on—" Little Mac paused. "I… don't remember, actually. It just… sounds familiar, I guess. But, hey, we're here! Lemme get the door."

The trio had arrived at Little Mac's dorm, the door to which the boxer had opened. It was modestly decorated, with the necessary bed, desk, chair, dresser, and mini-fridge, with moderate sea-green wallpaper. A pair of boxing gloves were hung around the doorknob, and a championship belt was displayed in a glass case, just across from his bed.

"Oh!" said Isabelle. "Is that the belt from when you beat Mr. Sandman?"

"Actually," replied Mac, "it's from when I beat Mr. Dream."

"Mr. Dream?" asked Isabelle, tilting her head. "I can't say I've heard of him. Who is that?"

"Aw, he was one of the older champions from waaay back." explained the boxer. "He's retired now. Look, it's still got the old logo on it, see?"

"Ooooh…" Isabelle observed the belt a bit more closely. Sure enough, the year 1990 was engraved in tiny lettering at the bottom. "What was that fight like?" she asked.

Little Mac grinned. "Oh, man, that's a story and a half. Alright, so, picture this. It's a chilly day in September. I'd just made Super Macho Man kiss the canvas, and from what I hear, the next guy's a real juggernaut. So I hop into the ring, Doc is cheering me on, cameras flashing, when suddenly…"

And so, Mac went on, delighting Isabelle with tales of his toughest trials in the WVBA, from his first match with King Hippo, to many, many matches with Bald Bull, to his final showdown with Mr. Sandman.

"…And to this day, he's still more memorable as Soda Popinski!" concluded the boxer as Isabelle applauded. "So then I—hey, what're you doing?"

While Mac was telling his stories, Dark Samus had been busying herself by rooting through Mac's mini-fridge. She plucked out a bottle of ice water and gazed at it, tilting the bottle to watch the liquid move inside.

Isabelle looked nervous. "Are you… are you thirsty?" she asked.

Dark Samus gave no reply, but continued to stare at the bottle.

"Uhhhh…" Little Mac hesitated. "You can have it, if… if you want."

The doppelganger was still. Then, without warning, her arm cannon split apart as it had earlier, sucking in the water, bottle and all. The bottle made a crunching sound as it was absorbed into the alien. As a coda, the cannon spat out the plastic cap, which landed on the ground and promptly melted.

"...Okay."

Some distance away from that sordid scene, Dillon sat on the roof of the mansion, gazing up at the sky. The sun was no longer as high up as it once was, and the sky was beginning to turn orange.

A noise behind the armadillo alerted him to a new presence approaching. He glanced over his shoulder to see Samurai Goroh trudging up the stairs to the roof. He made eye contact with Dillon and sneered. "So, you're up here, too?" asked the samurai.

Dillon puffed air out of his nose, but made no further comment.

Samurai Goroh frowned. "What's with the silent treatment, huh? I asked you a question!"

Dillon said nothing. Of course he was up here. It seemed, he noted, that Goroh was not the sharpest knife in the drawer.

"Ohh, I see how it is," grumbled Goroh. "You think you're better than me, eh? Think you're too good to talk to the others 'cause you're new and in vogue, huh? Well, lemme tell ya something, getting one gig a couple years ago doesn't make you better than anyone else!"

Dillon refused to dignify that with a response.

The samurai huffed. "Y'know, you might seem popular right now, but believe me, that won't last long. I've seen your type before. Yet another colorful talking animal. Not like that Sonic guy, the mascot-type that appeals to youth culture. Your type is different. You guys don't get a lot of exposure, so you end up forgotten. Now, people like me, on the other hand, we're built to last. We might not get consistent gigs, but people still remember us. Guile, Lyn, Shovel Knight… hell, even that Isaac kid— and, of course, me—we're the ones this company is built on. So don't go getting a swelled head just 'cause you're all relevant and stuff."

The armadillo had long tuned him out, pulling his hat over his eyes.

"I'm telling you this because—wait a sec." He paused. "Maybe… maybe you're not being all high-and-mighty, after all. Maybe…" A grin crept up Goroh's face. "Maybe you're just shy because you're meeting a real all-star such as me! Yeah, that must be it!" exclaimed the man, adjusting his pince-nez glasses. "Well if that's the case—"

A tugging feeling in his back stopped the man's rambling. Samurai Goroh's eyes widened as his body began to glow. He floated up, up, up for a few seconds, and disappeared in a brilliant burst of light. There was no sound except for the wind.

Finally, thought Dillon. Some peace and quiet.

When Samurai Goroh opened his eyes, he wasn't sure what he was expecting. After all, he was currently residing in the World of Trophies, a mysterious, extraordinary realm at the center of the multiverse, known for being a world where anyone could appear and anything could happen!

But it was still a mild surprise for the man when he found himself standing on a large green platform with a red-and-white ball depicted in the center.

"Hey! Over here!"

Samurai Goroh turned to the source of his rather rude awakening. A turtle-like creature riding a vehicle with a clown's face was looking up at him in a scrutinizing manner. Samurai Goroh immediately recognized him as Bowser Jr.

"You're that samurai geezer, right? Help me beat that dolt, Wolf!" demanded the turtle as he pointed behind the samurai.

Bowser Jr. was pointing at a wolf with an eyepatch over his left eye and a purple jacket, wielding a futuristic blaster with a nasty-looking claw at the end. From the glare on his face, it seemed that this "dolt" with a creative name did not take too kindly to being referred to as such. He stretched out his claws and brandished his weapon.

Samurai Goroh grinned as he took out his katana. "Hmmm… I suppose I can lend some of my services this time." He slashed his weapon in a threatening gesture. "Time to cut you down to size, doggie!"

Bowser Jr. hopped excitedly in his vehicle. "Yeah! Go get 'em, Takamaru!"

Samurai Goroh halted dead in his tracks. "...What?"

The Koopa prince glared at him impatiently. "I said, go get 'em. That means attack, ya dope."

"No, but like, what'd you call me after?"

Bowser Jr. stared blankly at him. "I called you Takamaru. That's your name, right?"

Samurai Goroh frowned as he faced his summoner. "Uh, no. I'm Samurai Goroh of Red Canyon, the greatest racer in the galaxy and beyond!"

"…Never heard of you."

"Wh-What?!" Goroh looked flabbergasted. "Aw, come on, you must have at least heard of me! The pilot of the Fire Stingray? Champion of the F-Zero Grand Prix for two straight years? I got mentioned in Ms. Nintendique's Hottest Men Alive! Granted, three of the four votes I got there were jokes, but—oof!"

The world would never hear the rest of Goroh's sentence, for Wolf, tired of his rambling had jumped and slashed him in the back with his claws. He stumbled and fell on his side, forcing Bowser Jr. to leap back.

Wolf smirked as he watched Samurai Goroh struggle to get up. "So, is this nobody gonna keep bragging, or are we gonna have an actual match?" he asked no one in particular.

Samurai Goroh angrily got up, adjusted his glasses, and pointed his sword at the canine. "Alright, bucko! You want a fight?! Well, now I'll really slice you into ribbons! Here I come!"

The battle raged on, with neither side showing any mercy. Bowser Jr. used plenty of tools in his Junior Clown Car, with Samurai Goroh cutting away at the canine mercenary. But Wolf refused to cave, choosing to go all out in his attacks and picking up any item he could to defend himself. He even managed to get a fair share of solid hits on Goroh.

Samurai Goroh staggered to his feet as he stared down Wolf. The stage might have been moving, but he could still win! He wasn't going to give up that easily!

Suddenly, the crowd gasped as a dazzling light filled the arena, forcing the competitors to shut their eyes. When the light dimmed, there was now a rainbow-colored ball split by two perpendicular lines floating above the stage. It seemed to overflow with cosmic energy as it passed over their heads.

"A Smash Ball!" shouted Samurai Goroh. "You're done for now!"

He leapt up to slash at the orb. He may have the reputation of a bumbling oaf, but he was going to prove them all wrong today! Very soon, he would prove himself to be the greatest racer, and in fact, the greatest warrior in all the worlds! Just stand back and let him handle this! …Ah, look! It seemed like both Bowser Jr. and Wolf were standing back to give him the spotlight! Perfect! Now he could win the day!

As he brought down his katana on the artifact, he noticed something a little… off about it. It certainly looked like an ordinary Smash Ball, but something didn't seem quite right. Hmmm…

…Ah! That's it! The lines were switched around! This was not a true Smash Ball, but the new Fake Smash Ball introduced this tournament!

…

…

Time seemed to slow down as sudden comprehension dropped on him like a stone.

"Oh, cr—"

Samurai Goroh felt an abrupt, searing pain spread over him before his vision cut to black.

The dull thud of Samurai Goroh hitting the rooftop floor woke Dillon from his slumber. He turned and saw the man, his vest and pants burnt and tattered, lying on his back.

"So how'd that go, Mr. Company Mainstay?" drawled the armadillo.

"Shut up."

"So, whaddya wanna do now?"

Little Mac, Isabelle, and Dark Samus were meandering down the hall, not going anywhere in particular. The sun was beginning to dip towards the horizon, and the sky was slowly darkening. Some of their fellow fighters passed them by, chatting amongst themselves about their previous matches.

As they walked, they encountered Knuckle Joe, a fresh limp in his stride. He glanced up at the trio and gave a weary smile. "Well, look who it is. The champion of the WVBA himself," he panted.

Little Mac beamed as he knelt down to bump Joe's fist. "Oh, 'sup, Joe! You still here?" he asked.

"Sure am!" replied Knuckle Joe. "I'm one of the essentials, after all!" He stood up a little straighter, but suddenly winced as he clutched at his side.

"Oh, goodness! Are you all right?" said Isabelle worriedly. Upon closer inspection, Knuckle Joe was in worse shape than at first glance. There were a few singed threads in his bodysuit, his normally spiky blond hair was matted and stained with dirt, his bandana was tattered at the ends, and several burn marks on his face. But in spite of his injuries, he still gave a fatigued grin, as though this was just another day on the job for him. Which it was, when they stopped to think about it.

"It's alright, I'll be fine," said Knuckle Joe. "Just had a rough couple of matches with Ridley 'n DK. I'll just have Dr. Mario patch me up! ...So, you're a fighter now, huh?"

"Yup!" said Little Mac proudly. "All three of us are now. Me, Isabelle, and Dark Samus."

"Mm." Knuckle Joe edged away from Samus' doppelganger. "That must be nice, getting to tussle with all of those superstars…"

"Yeah, but what about you, Knuckle Joe?" asked Isabelle. "How are you holding down the fort? The others are treating you okay? Everyone's still as upbeat as I remember them, right?"

For a brief moment, Knuckle Joe looked even more spent and worn than he had previously. "I… I should go. Don't wanna risk making these injuries worse, after all." He hobbled off, scratching at his headband along the way.

Little Mac crossed his arms and sighed wistfully. "Yeah, I remember those days. Me and him, we used to be super close. He sure seemed in a hurry, though…"

"Well, it does make sense. He was pretty badly hurt," put in Isabelle.

"Pretty badly hurt…" repeated Little Mac. "Y'know, back when I— oh, hey! Hey! Goroh!"

The boxer was waving at Samurai Goroh, who was plodding along across their path some distance away, his clothes torn and burnt. Upon noticing the trio, his face contorted with anger as he shot them a rude gesture. He then stomped away, grumbling under his breath.

"…Wow. Okay then," said a stunned Little Mac. Isabelle seemed taken aback, while Dark Samus simply gazed after the man, as though contemplating if he would make a decent meal. Based on the irritated-sounding hiss she gave off, she evidently determined otherwise.

"Hmmm…" Isabelle put a paw to her chin in thought. "Can I ask you a question, Little Mac? …When you were an Assist Trophy, were they able to get hurt at all?"

"I… huh. No. No, they weren't, actually," answered the boxer. "Back then, most of us were invincible… except Starfy and that guy riding a cloud, for some reason."

"Aha!" said Isabelle. "Earlier we saw Knuckle Joe looking beat up. You saw how tired he looked, right? And now Samurai Goroh is in a bad mood because he got beat up!" She invited the two of them closer for a huddle. "What we have here is a classic case of low morale!"

"Low morale…" repeated Little Mac. A gloved hand rose to stroke his chin. "Whaddya think we should do?"

Isabelle gave a sly wink. "I've got just the idea. But I'll need your help…!"

The sun had at long last ended its journey across the sky, the darkness of night beginning to take over. The Assist Trophies had just finished off their dinner, and were now relaxing in the lounge now that matches were done for the day. In particular, Lyn was relaxing and making idle chit-chat with Phosphora, Isaac, and Krystal over some snacks: some Sinnohan Old Gateau that Phosphora had "borrowed" from Chef Kawasaki's kitchen.

"And they told me, with a straight face, 'Oh, you can't be in this one, but don't worry, we'd love to have you on board for a sequel if we get to make one!'" Krystal rolled her eyes. "I mean, honestly! 'If'?!"

"Oh, tell me about it," agreed Phosphora. "At least they left the door open for a sequel."

"At least you're getting the consideration at all," added Isaac. "Some of us haven't been on a real adventure in a while."

Lyn gazed sympathetically at the boy. "Oh, don't feel too bad, Isaac. If it's anything, your appearance here made plenty of noise among your fans."

"Honestly, Lyn," sighed Phosphora as she took another slice of Gateau, "you're so lucky. You're one of the super-popular ones, so you get to appear in everything."

"Oh, come on, Phosphora, I'm not that popular," responded Lyn, her ears turning pink. "And I certainly don't appear in everything."

"Now wait a moment," cut in Krystal. "If I recall correctly, you placed quite highly on that poll some years ago, right?"

"Well, yeah, but that was—" Lyn pulled a face as though someone had shoved a dead rat into her face. "That was for a gacha game."

Phosphora shrugged. "Hey, popularity is popularity. The fans still like you, don't they? Heck, if I could…" She paused, thinking about the implications of her words. "Nah, who am I kidding. I wouldn't be caught dead in a gacha."

Isaac shot her a teasing look. "Nice save," he smirked.

Phosphora lightly smacked him on the back of his head in response. "Oh, be quiet, flat-earther."

"Waaah!"

"Oh, hell, no."

Waluigi, with his mustache as crooked as ever, stomped into the lounge. He sneered down at the quartet as he approached. "Heard you losers were talking about who's the most popular."

Krystal recoiled at the lanky man's sudden intrusion, while Phosphora, Isaac, and Lyn wore identical faces of revulsion. "Yes, we were," said Lyn, knowing full well where this was going to go. "What about it?"

"Ha!" smirked Waluigi. "What would you D-listers know about popularity? After all, we all know that I've got the rest of you beat in that regard."

Lyn was unimpressed. "Uh-huh." She turned back to the others. "So, like I was saying, Isaac, your inclusion as an Assist Trophy here made quite an impact here. It's not a stretch to say that you'd be first in line for the next one."

Isaac looked hopefully up at Lyn. "Do you really think so?" he asked.

"Oh, puh-leeze," interrupted Waluigi, using Isaac's head as an armrest. "You're seriously advocating for this loser?"

"Yes," said Lyn purposefully, "I am. And who knows? Maybe he could end up with plenty of new adventures under his belt, just like Little Mac."

Waluigi's scowl deepened at mention of the boxer's name. "Hmph! You mean one new adventure. After that, he went straight back to obscurity like those space animals! But of course, he's the one that gets the invite…"

Krystal glowered at the lanky man. "Excuse you! I am not obscure!"

Waluigi sneered down his nose at the vixen. "Oh, really? Well, then, Miss Fan Favorite, why didn't you show up for Fox's newest mission, eh? The big return of Team Star Fox after so long. All that fanfare, pageantry, and ceremony, but where were you?"

Krystal could only respond with a flare of her nostrils and bitter, fuming silence. Waluigi smirked triumphantly as he snatched a slice of Gateau out of Isaac's hand. "See what I mean? And you weren't even important enough to be in that Starlink Initiative thing. D-Lister. Unlike me."

Phosphora had had enough. "Oh my gods, would you buzz off already?" she growled. Electricity danced dangerously around her fingertips. "You can't sit with us."

Isaac glared up at the lanky man. "And get your arm off me," he added, swiping at Waluigi as though he were a mosquito buzzing around his head in the dead of night. That is, if the mosquito was particularly conceited and disgruntled and was just really greasy.

"Hey, I'm just telling the truth," shrugged Waluigi, taking a bite of Gateau. "Facts are, most of you are one-and-done. Well, maybe not her," he added, glancing at Lyn. "She's one of those—ugh—swordfighters, so she'll probably get a free pass. But the rest of you are all second-rate washouts! Unlike me, of course. I—"

Waluigi's boasting was cut short by a knock at the door. For a brief moment, he thought he saw relief wash over the faces of the four assistants he was disparaging. "I'll get it," said Isaac, eager to get away from the purple-clad man's taunts. He got up and jogged towards the door to open it. "Hey, how can we assist y—" The words stopped dead in their tracks as he laid eyes on who had knocked.

Little Mac stood in the doorway, wearing a huge grin. "'Sup, ya big dope," said the boxer.

"Mac!" cried Isaac, embracing him like he would a brother. He turned back to the others. "Guys, it's Little Mac! Mac is here!"

"Little Mac? Is that him?" The other assistants rose to get a better view, rushing towards the door once they confirmed that it was indeed Little Mac. In doing so, they pushed past Waluigi, leaving him alone by the couch with the leftover Old Gateau.

"Little Mac!" exclaimed Lyn, who had also moved in for a hug. "It's been too long! You look so good! Getting that promotion must've done wonders for you!"

"Hell yeah, they did!" nodded Little Mac. "Don't know if you noticed, but I grew almost a foot!" He looked around at the lounge's decor. "Man, this place has changed since I was gone…"

"Yeah, a lot's changed since you got promoted," said Isaac. "Oh, yeah! Lemme introduce you! This is Phosphora, and Krystal!"

Little Mac stepped forward to shake their hands, a less difficult task than he imagined with his boxing gloves on. "It's nice to meet you, Little Mac," said Krystal with a smile. "We've heard many things about you." Behind her, Waluigi crossed his arms and flopped down on the couch.

The boxer scratched the side of his head. "Ah, but I bet—" He stopped, suddenly remembering something. "Oh, yeah! Isabelle, get in here!"

At mention of her name, Isabelle hopped into the doorway. "Hello, everyone!" she announced with a wave of her paw.

"Isabelle!" This time, everyone went in for a hug, save for Krystal, who wasn't quite familiar with the dog yet, and Waluigi, who continued to crossly sit on the couch.

"It hasn't been the same around here without you, Isabelle," said Lyn as she broke away from the hug. "You really kept us afloat when you were here. Especially during the second year… Gods, that was a nightmare."

Isabelle held her arms behind her back, shifting her weight from side to side. "Aw, really? I'm really glad you miss me that much… Oh! Speaking of which… Dark Samus!"

"Wait, wh—"

On cue, Dark Samus drifted into view, preferring to float in the hallway rather than walk right in as Little Mac and Isabelle had. The mood of a joyful, gladsome reunion promptly faded as everyone tried to creep away from the doppelganger. Dark Samus simply floated there, quietly observing everyone in the room.

"You can come in if you want," said Isabelle, who ignored the uneasy faces behind her. "Don't worry, she's almost harmless!"

Receiving the invitation, Dark Samus hovered into the lounge. True to Isabelle's word, she simply sat in a chair and kept her gaze fixed on a bird just outside the window.

"I… see," said Lyn, who made sure to give the creature a wide berth. She wasted no time steering the subject back to happier matters. "So, what brings you three here?" she asked.

"Waah! Probably came to gloat," scoffed Waluigi.

"Whuh? Oh, hey, Waluigi," said Little Mac, awkwardly waving at him. "Didn't see ya there at first. How's life been treatin' you?"

Waluigi simply huffed and turned away, munching on what was left of the dessert. Phosphora simply rolled her eyes, while Isaac exasperatedly crossed his arms. "Aw, c'mon, Waluigi, don't be like that. They're our friends, remember?"

"Hmph!" snorted the purple-clad man, resting his chin on his hand. "That little shrimp is no friend of mine! Stupid cheap Rocky knockoff…" As he reached for the last of the Old Gateau, a beam of electricity shot out and snatched the treat right out of his gloved hand. "Waaah?! What the—?!"

The beam retracted back towards its owner, Dark Samus, who picked up the Gateau and peered at it. Her arm cannon split apart for the third time that day, absorbing the goodie like a vacuum. She lowered her head at Waluigi and made a low rumbling sound, as though daring him to do something about it.

Much to Waluigi's dismay, everyone laughed. Even Dark Samus let out a series of short, coughing… sounds that somewhat resembled laughter. "Oh, ha ha. Very funny. So I guess you did come to rub it in after all, didn't you?" he asked.

"Actually, yeah. What's the occasion?" asked Phosphora. "Most of the fighters don't really come here unless it's to either complain or ask for a favor."

"Weeell…" began Isabelle, a gleeful grin creeping up her face. "Little Mac, Dark Samus and I all pooled our resources to get you guys a little something!"

That definitely took everyone by surprise. Even Waluigi's scowl disappeared, replaced by a skeptical raise of his eyebrow. "Wait, seriously?" asked Isaac.

Little Mac nodded. "It was mostly Isabelle's idea, but we all pitched in some! Go on, show 'em!"

Isabelle reached into her pocket and pulled out what looked like an everyday leaf with a hole at the edge. She dropped it on the ground, there was a puff of smoke, and in the leaf's place was an enormous gift basket filled with various goodies, treats, and other such beneficial items. The entire presentation was wrapped in cellophane, with a lovely green satin bow at the top.

The assistants' jaws dropped as they stared. They were all rendered speechless. "Wh-wh—what is this?" asked Krystal.

"It's a gift basket!" replied Isabelle. "I figured you might need a little pick-me-up, so I worked with my two little helpers—" she gestured at Mac and Dark Samus— "to find out what you might need!"

"Most of this was Isabelle's handiwork, but I managed to get some of the little details in," said Little Mac. To his side, Dark Samus' visor glowed just a bit brighter.

"Just think of it as a morale booster!" explained Isabelle, beaming brightly. "Because I know some of the others might not show it, but we really do appreciate what you do."

For a moment, the assistants were silent, staring at the basket with awe. Nobody knew quite what to say. At last, Lyn broke the silence. "Isabelle, this is…" She paused for a moment, and it was noted among everyone present that her eyes were shining. "This is… this is beautiful, Isabelle. Thank you. Thank you all so much!"

Isabelle looked delighted while Little Mac's face turned pink. "Aw, I'm happy you like it! We worked really hard on it!"

"Yeah, I can tell!" said Phosphora, admiring the basket. "Is it okay if we open it now?"

"Sure!" said Isabelle. "Go right ahead!"

Isaac went first, breaking through the cellophane and pulling out something wrapped in shiny gold paper. He gently removed the wrapping, as if whatever was inside would shatter if he so much as touched it the wrong way. He lifted up a set of shining, yellow stones shaped like stars.

"Psy Crystals?!" asked a stunned Isaac. "Wh—where—how did you even find these?!"

"What can I say?" replied Isabelle coyly. "I've got plenty of connections around here."

There were many other gifts in the basket. A set of five winged bottles filled with a celestial pink liquid, a bag of certified-fresh New York bagels, bottles of milk, apple pie, pecan pie, cherry pie, and even a special voltfruit pie! There was also a strange looking seed that shot out massive vines when touched, a tea set decorated with light pink dots, a set of red and green cushions, and a bottle of unpleasant-looking bright blue liquid. "It was Dark Samus' contribution!" claimed Isabelle.

"Wow," breathed Krystal, having finally found her words. "This is— well, what can I say? This is so thoughtful of you!"

"This is amaaazing!" squealed Phosphora, holding up a necklace with a lightning bolt-shaped necklace. "You guys are angels, you know that?" she said, throwing a wink at Little Mac.

"Yeah, seriously, you guys," said Isaac with a tired smile. "This really means a lot. Thanks."

"Bah!" said Waluigi, turning away. "I don't need your charity!"

Many disapproving looks were directed at the lanky man, mostly from Krystal and Lyn. Just then, Isaac pulled out another box from the basket, long, heavy, and wrapped in shiny purple paper. "Wait! This one's for you, Waluigi!"

"Waah?" Waluigi looked surprised. He squinted at it doubtfully, as though he wasn't sure if it was a prank or not. Deciding that it probably wasn't, he recklessly tore away the paper and opened the box, throwing the lid over his shoulder.

"Waaah…"

Lying in the box was a tennis racket, identical to his own, right down to his inverted L symbol stenciled on the strings. The only noticeable difference was that the yellow accents around the beam were painted just a little brighter, making it appear golden when the light hit it just right. It was a dead ringer for Charlotte, back in her heyday. He looked back at Little Mac and Isabelle, mouth agape.

"Well? Do you like it?" said the dog, staring at him with expectant eyes.

"We made it ourselves," said Little Mac, reclining on the couch.

Dark Samus said nothing, but continued to stare fixedly at the man.

Waluigi's mouth opened, closed, opened, and closed again. For once, he was at a loss for words. This was probably the first time anyone had been kind to him since the tournament started. At last, he found his tongue.

"Weeeh… this handiwork is… passable," murmured Waluigi. "Respectable, even. Not bad… for a novice," he added with a dismissive wave of his hand.

Little Mac blinked. "Y'know what, I'm gonna take that as a compliment."

As everyone present talked amongst themselves, Isabelle glanced up at the moon taking hold of the night sky. "Oh, goodness, look how late it is! I should get going!" She got up from the couch. "Well, it was lovely catching up with you all! I'll be seeing you soon!"

"Yeah, I'm gonna hit the hay, too," said Little Mac. "Man, I miss this place! It's been real, you guys."

"Aw, you're leaving already?" One by one, even Assist Trophies went in for another group hug, save for Waluigi, who still refused to take part, and Dark Samus, who simply floated there as she, too, got up to leave.

After the last "goodbye"s and "We miss you"s were said and the fighters had left, Lyn sat back down on the couch. "Well, that was nice, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, it was," said Isaac, sitting down and putting his arms behind his head. "Nice to know that Mac's keeping up alright."

"If I'd known that Isabelle was here last tournament," cut in Krystal, "I would have applied for an Assist Trophy position earlier!"

To her left, Phosphora nodded. "You should've seen her last time, she was amazing! She made Dr. Wright look disorganized!"

Lyn smiled as she thought back to those times. "And Dark Samus was…she was…"

Everyone paused as they thought back to Dark Samus' tenure as an Assist Trophy. They remembered her creepy staring as she "introduced" herself to the others. They remembered her sudden, frequent intense cravings for Phazon. They remembered the incident in the second year that resulted in a third of the fighters being admitted to the infirmary.

Everyone's eyes fell on Dark Samus' vial of liquid that had been left in the basket, still untouched.

"...Yeah, I don't really miss her at all," said Lyn quickly.

"Oh, yeah."

"Definitely."

"But another thing," said Isaac, turning to face Waluigi. "What you said back there, Waluigi… that was probably the nicest thing I've heard you say since… ever. What was that about?"

Waluigi started, obviously not expecting to be asked such a question. He folded his arms and turned his head. "I don't know what you're talking about." he mumbled.

"You were all, 'Oh, I don't need your charity', but then you turned right around and complimented them… kind of," said Phosphora. "What gives?"

Waluigi's mouth worked as he struggled to find a proper explanation. "Waah. I'm just making them drop their guard," he answered. "Then, when they least expect it, I'll defeat them and all the rest of those losers so that I can become the biggest superstar of the world! What they don't know is that this tennis racket will be the key to their defeat! Waaa ha ha ha!"

Krystal stared at Waluigi, unimpressed. "That's an odd way of saying 'I really liked the tennis racket they gave me'."

Waluigi looked shocked. "W-waaah?!"

Lyn chuckled as she watched Waluigi's face fall. "Maybe this might be a reason for you to be nicer to them in the future? Return the favor, perhaps?"

Waluigi irritably crossed his arms. "In your dreams! Although when I take over, I might consider taking them on as my lackeys… then you'd all better watch out!"

The four other Assist Trophies exchanged sardonic glances. Phosphora burst into shrill, juvenile laughter, while Krystal, Isaac, and Lyn all rolled their eyes. "Sure, man. Whatever you say," said Isaac with a grin.

And so they sat, chatting and digging into the voltfruit pie. It was the best night they'd had in a long while.

Author's Notes: You all knew something like this had to come up sooner or later. The promoted Assist Trophies make their debut!

Although this story is primarily about the Assist Trophies, there is a small chance I might write a chapter about the Final Smash helpers! Be on the lookout for that.