Smash Brothers Odyssey Book 5: Ultimate

by SmashBrosOdyssey

The fifth tournament is underway! Behind the scenes however, Conker the Squirrel has acquired the missing Smash Core and is assembling an inter-dimensional army of villains in a decade-overdue power play to dominate the universe. What havoc will the villains reek? How will Mario, who is now tasked with leading the Smashers, respond?

95. Round 2: Day One

Round 2: Day 1

Smash Mansion

Quinn, Sans, and Altair's suite

Quinn's room.

1000

Quinn's eyes fluttered open to the soft, yet persistent beep of his Smash communicator. He sighed, taking in how he felt. It always felt strange to wake up from a round in a Smash arena feeling none the worse for wear. He rolled to his side, checking his texts. He had several from acquaintances, but three stood out. The first three in the barrage of texts since his win, Master Hart, Riddle, and surprisingly, Sally, Riddle's current squeeze. He opened that first, wondering what a woman he'd never met had to say to him.

Quinn, the text message began, We have not met yet, but my name is Sally. I am a rookie in Master Hart's academy, on Blue Team. Riddle and I are quite fond of each other, and I thought it best to break the ice before we met. Congratulations, and I look forward to meeting you!
He mulled over the text message in his head. How was he supposed to take that? Robotic? Formal? This is why he hated text.

And probably why I have so many unanswered ones, he mused.

Next, he opened Riddle's.

BRO! YOU FUCKIN' DID! OH MY FUUJKIHUJING GOD! DRINKS ON ME 3EVAH HOMIE! HIT ME UP SOMETIME BRAH!

Quinn smiled. He knew a drunk text from his slacker roommate when he saw one.

At least this one isn't him begging me to let him in at 5 AM because he forgot his keys, chuckled the Mii Brawler.

This one he felt obligated to respond to.

Yeah man. Drinks after second round? Also tell Sally I got her text and appreciate

Casting that one into the back of his brain as he hit 'send', knowing Riddle wouldn't be up until the afternoon at the earliest, he opened up the last important one, Master Hart.

You did good kid, Maybe Greninja ought to enroll in my school LMAO. Anyway, you've always been able to switch up between item play and regular ole martial arts, something I even struggled in doing. And that Bomber armor move at the end was incredible work bro! Just keep trainin'. I know Smash can be an all-encompassing social circle, so I don't expect that you have a ton of time on your hands just…don't forget about the little people, aight?

It briefly flashed in Quinn's mind to simply respond with an 'aight' in turn, but the brunette shook his head at the thought. This deserved more, preferably something created via the fuel from a healthy breakfast.

Finally rising out of bed, he slipped on an old pair of pajama pants. Heading out into the main suite, he saw Altair flipping through the TV channels.

"As usual, some of the new governments involved in this Smash season are resistant to the lax tariffs on importing medicine from Hyrule and The Mushroom Kingdom."

BZZT!

"You'd better hold on tight spider monkey."

BZZT

"Red Canyon had played hosts to some of the greatest F-Zero Grand Prix races in history such as..."
BZZT

"I CAN SEE YOU, EV-A-RAY NI-HITE! REOOOOOOWN!"
BZZT

"Here's to you, Nicola and Bart…"

"Up next on the History Channel, a four-part series of Big Boss dismantling the Peace Walker project…"

Altair clicked the TV off, his eyes darting to Quinn. The assassin sighed, "Literal thousands of television programs and not an interesting one among them."

"Yep," Quinn nodded, "Welcome to the modern world. That said I never took you as a guy who'd even figure out how to use the TV, let alone actually, ya know, use it."

"I've known about the invention of the television since acquiring the Apple of Eden and was looking forward to using one, in private of course. I wouldn't want Sans to make fun of what I found interesting."

Again, Quinn nodded.

"Speaking of, where is our resident skeleton?"

"Out to breakfast with the friends we met yesterday. He outright told me to tell you he wouldn't be training. He is helping set up the talk show with the squids."

"Off the Hook? Cool, I guess I'm not training either."

Altair's eyes widened in affirmation, "I was wondering if you noticed…"

"The little digs at me yesterday?"

Quinn's mind wandered, the smell of Grillby's filling his olfactory senses as Sans' voice danced in his head.

"Don't get too attached to him because I'm eliminating him next round,"

His friends had giggled, albeit nervously.

Undyne had badgered him with questions about his fighting style, only for Sans to snap, "Not as effective as mine, you'll see."

And the last, amidst signing autographs for those in Grillby's, "Train hard kid, else I'm gonna whoop ya out there."

Quinn had visibly scowled at this one,

"Just kidding! Have fun, it'll be fun!"

Quinn's fury at the past snapped his mind back to the present, "He thinks I'll wear myself out training today, but the head games won't work."

Altair nodded, "I'm proud of you boy. To see past the idiot's deceit with such immediate resolve is an improvement from where you were when we first met."

"Thanks but uh," Quinn stammered, the attention overwhelming him, "Do you have any plans today?"

"Terry and Corrin requested my assistance training, as the other members of DLC have chosen to train in the manner which they are accustomed, but they did not abstain from alcohol at last night's Askr function," Altair replied, annoyed.

"Ah. I'm gonna grab some breakfast, can't do a thing without some food in me."

"Food is quite important. Although I suggest you'd abstain from anything called 'breakfast cereal,'

"You know I'm like…an adult right?" questioned Quinn.

"I had some out of curiosity and felt like the aggressive sweetness would choke me to death."

"It's not the cereal trust me," Quinn offered a sympathetic smile over his shoulder as he began to walk to the door, "I had to build up a tolerance to spicy food when I was a kid, you just have to do the same thing except with every flavor that isn't salt."

Altair stroked his chin in thought, "You may be on to something."

Casting a thumbs up behind him, Quinn closed the door. Walking happily down the hall, he pivoted to the side to avoid a Luma zooming in the opposite direction with a breakfast tray in its nubs. Resolving to text Rosalina later, he walked passed Captain Falcon's room just as he opened it.

"Livin' the dream eh young man?" he smiled as they walked down the hall together.

"Yep. Takin' it easy today."

The racer seemed to ponder this as they walked, "You've got Sans right?"

Quinn nodded, "I'm pretty sure he's expecting me to exhaust myself training, so I'm just not gonna."

Falcon grinned warmly as they began to descend the spiral staircase, "Don't blame ya in all honesty. One day to train doesn't give ya much to do except burn out your muscles."

Once again, Quinn nodded, this time, much more eagerly. The two combatants headed to the kitchen, where the Street Fighter Trio and Mario sat, Mario, looking intently at a hologram of statistics projected from his Smash Communicator, while the other trio talked tiredly amongst each other. As soon as they were as Quinn and Falcon were within arms reach of the stocked pantry, Ryu's gaze snapped to them.

"Marmaduke-san, Falcon-san, good morning," Ryu greeted flatly, a curt nod in their direction.

"Ey kid, how was watching the Karate Kid with the space goddess," Ken teased.

"Now now, let's not harass," Mario grunted, not looking away from the hologram.

"How the hell could you have known about that?" balked Quinn, Falcon quickly picking what he wanted from the pantry and exiting with haste.

"Hubert told us."

A shiver went up his spine simply thinking about Edelgard's right hand.

"Why's he in my business?" protested Quinn.

"He and Altair looked into all of DLC's activities last night," Chun-Li spoke up, "He was…quite perturbed you guys weren't having your usual training sessions."

Quinn wheeled around, a box of Wild Berry Pop-tarts in hand.

Ken's easy-going grin morphed into a gritted, pained expression.

"Ryu I swear to God if you..."

"Ah, I once fought a gang of Pop-tarts. They were great warriors," Ryu proclaimed.

"Whoop there it is," Ken and Chun-Li said together, simultaneously taking flasks out of their pajama pants pockets and taking an exaggerated gulp from them.

"Wh-ha-hat?" the sounds tumbled out of Quinn's perplexed mouth

"Oh, we like to tease Ryu about how many people he's fought in the multiverse," Chun-Li explained, "I mean, Ken and I are there for most of them, but Ryu likes to wear it like a badge of honor."

"I've also fought someone who subscribed to Miyagi's teachings. Jonesy is also a great warrior."

"Fuck," Ken cursed, the exclamation sizzling with vitriol, "That stupid island you two and Chief were on is a half swig right?"

"Yep," Chun-Li nodded.

And so, they drank.

Mario looked up just as Quinn unwrapped the Pop-Tart, "Ah, Marmaduke. Just the man I'm looking for."

"Hmm?" Quinn mumbled, mouth already full of the delicious breakfast treat.

"I was a-just lookin' at the merch sales for everyone. You're right in the middle at number 50, but I think you've got the potential to really get over once people get a hang of your 'every man' persona like they did with Master Hart. Off the Hook, the taping I mean-a, starts at 1800, but Sans wants to do something with you, something so secret he's not even tellin' me, so your spot'll be in the main event slot, 1900."

Quinn rolled his eyes, "And here I was thinking I was gonna get scot-free today. Who else is on?"

"Luigi, Pichu, Toon Link, Incineroar, Jak, and Daxter. Real killer's row of dogged tenaciousness I think.'

Quinn nodded, before suddenly stiffening as a thought came to him.

"Hey boss, am I the only one, not training?"

Mario laughed. The expression was kind and warm.

"Far from it. Mac is just watchin' footage cause he and Doc are workin' with-a Daisy. Trust me, Master Hand tried to sculpt us all into a unit in Melee. You can imagine with all the different personalities at play why that failed."

Finishing off the first of two Pop-Tarts, Quinn spoke, "Master Hart told me about that vaguely, yes."

Mario nodded, "Then you'll know…everyone has their own ways, let's just say."

Quinn swallowed, a Cheshire Cat smile on his face, "How so? Give me details!"

Another laugh from Mario, "Want to know all the scoops about our-a heroes do we?"

"If indulging my nerd shit isn't too much trouble."

"Not at all! In Melee, Bowser never trained and squared up to Master Hand whenever he was asked, whereas Marth and Roy were sparring near constantly, with everyone else falling in the middle of those extremes. These kinds of things live in the modern era. For example, Isabelle went into the Boxing Ring stage with Isabelle around 0500 this morning and they haven't been seen since."

"Creator on an elevator," Quinn gasped the sacrilegious saying.

"And Travis likes to galavant around town apparently, as-a he's the only one who hasn't re-"

The doors to the Mansion opened with an enormous thud. All five remaining kitchen occupants ran to the main foyer to observe the carnage. Travis stood in the doorway wheezing, visibly dripping with sweat.

"Are you…alright son?" Mario inquired, a concerned eyebrow raised.

A single sob escaped Travis. Then another. He sank to his knees.

"That woman," he huffed, "She's a maniac. We went all night."

"That's my boy!" shouted Dante from the top of the steps.

"I can't…I can't feel my body," Travis sobbed again.

In an instant, Dante was down the grand staircase, through the crowd, and kneeled at Travis' side.

"How does anime and pizza sound buddy?"

Travis sniffled, "Y-yeah,"

Throwing an arm over his shoulder, Dante helped Travis to his feet, easing him through the crowd. Then, as though nothing had happened, the crowd dispersed, all but the completely expressionless Mario and the slackjawed Quinn. The plumber clasped a hand on the Mii's shoulder, snapping him out of his shock.

"Like I said maschio, we all have our ways."

And with that, Mario unclasped Quinn's shoulder spun on his heel, and walked away.

Luigi

Smash Mansion

Stage Floor

1000

Luigi didn't even have to open the door to the massive Stage Floor to hear the bustle of Smashers training. Beyond the Kongo Jungle stage, he could hear the blast of the Super Scope, connecting with something metallic.

"AGAIN DIDDY!" came the frighteningly clear roar of Donkey Kong from beyond the door, "I NEED TO BE ABLE TO TANK HER WEAPONS!"

Tiptoeing past that mayhem, past the Hyrule Castle 64 stage, and the sounds of swords clashing that came from within, likely the Links, he found his destination, the Super Happy Tree stage. Tapping the code to unlock the vault door, he stepped inside the blank white room, with the computer console in its center. Luigi tabbed down the interface, selecting 8 Captain Falcon bots, all against him. Bots were seldom used in Smash training arenas, considered to be a cheap one-up on the competition as opposed to training against sentient opponents. The mustachioed man felt a lump in his chest at the imagined chastising from his peers, but he shook it away. It was the only way he could think to train against the deadly combination of power and speed that was Captain Falcon.

Clicking the final button, the terminal fizzled out of existence, and the white room morphed into a tropical afternoon. The odd combination of the scent of a freshly printed book and tropical fruit wafted at Luigi's nose as the seven Falcon bots all appeared before him. As the timer counted down, Daisy's voice rang in his head.

Mario is out, the Year of Luigi is now.

Luigi exhaled just as the Falcon bots all charged him. A Yoshi Island folk song played, but in his mind, the thumping base of Paranoia Survivor Max played. The clicks of the DDR machine in his mind influenced his footwork. Ducking and dodging a barrage of punches he kept his mind on his rhythm. Even taking an onslaught of kicks couldn't stop him.

Missed a step, don't look back-a, recover, move forward, gruffly demanded Luigi's inner voice.

His patented flailing fists into a Luigi Tornado walloped three of the seven. Concentrating even harder, Luigi waited for just the right moment, a fire-laden Super Jump Punch erupted, sending the three flying. A fourth Falcon bot foolishly jumped, attempting to assault him from underneath, allowing the ghost hunter to jump off of his head, waylaying the three Falcon bots with another critical Super Jump Punch, knocking the three Falcon bots into the upper blast zone.

Player 4 Defeated

Player 5 Defeated

Player 6 Defeated

So over the moon was Luigi at his prowess, he didn't see another Falcon flying out of his peripheral, hitting him with a pinpoint Falcon Knee, Luigi clipped the ground, flying into the air again, skidding to a halt. Scrambling up, Luigi moved his jaw, smiling. Nothing was broken, everything was intact.

"And the beat goes on," Luigi shouted to no one, still entranced with his inner groove.

The four remaining Falcons charged towards him, one of them crouching into a runner's stance, a very obvious tell for the Falcon Kick. Luigi stood unphased as the fire careened towards him.

"AND NOW!" Luigi declared.

Pulling out his Poultergust, a plunger on a thick wire snapped the bot out of his move, snaring him close. Luigi tossed the Falcon off stage, slamming him into the Blast Zone.

Player 7 Defeated

Luigi squatted in midair as he fell, feeling the power within build-up. With a squealing burst, Luigi rocketed through the air, the overcharged Green Missile colliding with one of the Falcon bots. Jumping to avoid a Falcon Punch, Luigi skipped over the heads of the remaining Falcon bots like a skipping rock. Now was the true test. In secret, he'd been training to control the overcharge of his Green Missile. Mastery of this technique would push him even further beyond.

Luigi squinted, the freshly attacked Falcon was in his sights.

He squatted, built up the power, and…

SQUEEEEE!

Luigi cried out in victory as yet another overcharged carried him into the stunned Falcon, cementing the left blast zone as the faux Falcon's new home

Player 2 defeated.

Luigi landed upon the stage again, Player 3 charging up a Falcon Punch, running into the line of fire, he tensed.

Parry.

Another suction sound rang out in the arena as yet another plunger met with the rubber latex of yet another Falcon's jumpsuit. Another toss, and another spike.

Player 3 defeated

Luigi turned just in time to see a Falcon Kick careening towards him.

Parry.

Another plunger, another toss, another spike

Player 7 defeated.

THIS GAME'S WINNER IS LUIGI

As the tropical fresh book smells and sights faded back into the white room, along with the DDR beat dancing in his head, Luigi smiled wide.

"I've done it, I've perfected the Green Missile," wheezed an exhausted Luigi.

This is going to be your weapon. How deep can you take it? Are you prepared to dine with danger, and snack on death? Seductively purred his inner voice.

Luigi nodded, brow furrowed with determination, running the simulation back.

Samus and Bayonetta

Smash Mansion

Samus and Bayonetta's suite.

1000

The footage looped again. Clad in her helmet and a set of royal blue pajamas, Samus Aran watched Donkey Kong's first-round match with Mario. Everyone had speculated that the ape was more motivated with King K. Rool among them, but if that were the case, why was he so ferocious?. The rest of the Smashers were overlooking the usually aloof King of the Jungle. The fact was, Kong was stronger and had motivations beyond King K. Rool. And if he was as smart as Samus figured, he'd have some sort of counter to her projectiles. Would she have to use close-range combat as Mario had? Would it turn out the same way?

Samus felt someone poke her belly. Rolling her eyes, she pressed a button on her helmet, the footage playing on her visor disappearing, and the visor itself opening up. Bayonetta lay beside her, seductively rested on her side.

"Sam, you've been watching that footage ever since we got up this morning," she playfully whined.

'Haven't you been watching the footage as well" deadpanned Aran.

Bayonetta huffed, clicking her tongue impudently, "Well, yes, but I need your opinion on something,"

Bayonetta rapidly clicked something on the TV remote, and the on-screen graphic indicated the video she was about to play played at .5 speed. Bayonetta hit 'play' and Cloud unleashed his Triple Slash technique on Corrin in the previous round.

"I always thought he waved his sword around willy nilly when he did that, but in truth, he's just as precise and artful as when he draws that symbol. I was thinking of using my Bats within the technique to dispel that shit."

Samus shook her head. Bayonetta frowned.

"Remember last tournament? Fox thought he could play the long game, and then…boom, Blade Beam."

"Oh poo," Bayonetta snapped her fingers, "You're right. So I'd better stick to my projectile game if I hope to win right?"

The flirtatious, purring manner in which she concluded her sentiment did not go unnoticed by Samus Aran, who reflexively bit her lip.

"Oh ho ho, I've struck a nerve haven't I?" her roommate teased.

"The thing with the…um…with the whip, from last night. Can we do that again?"

Bayonetta crawled closer, resting her head on Samus' stomach.

"When have I ever denied you anything?"

Dark Samus and Sephiroth

Smash Mansion roof

1000

"You have but one destiny. Take this tournament in my steed," hoarsely crowed Ridley.

Dark Samus stood still as a statue, watching Ridley circle it as the dragon hovered above, wings flapping in the air.

"The fox, your light half. All of them," hissed Ridley, "Are too lassiez-faire., too coddled, too cocky. But you? No, you are raw animal instinct. You will cut through McCloud's poultry defenses and you will win!"

The clicking of leather boots against brick drew both their attention. Sephiroth was walking towards them.

"Big talk, for someone who lost. And all that talk for nothing to say as well."

"That bastard Belmont,' squawked Ridley, "You will not bring him up in my presence again."

Sephiroth smiled. Even Dark Samus, as much of an animal as it was, felt its Phazon blood run cold at the sight.

"No," Sephiroth growled, "You will get off my roof. I don't know whether showing yourself here after your big lecture a week ago is audacity or sheer stupidity, either way, it will not be allowed."

Ridley huffed.

"We will go to the canal to practice our shooting form. We have no need for blowhards like you."

Ridley flew off, Dark Samus charging after him.

Train hard devil boy. These fools are starting to bore me, Sephiroth pleaded inwardly as he watched the two villains bolt into the horizon.

Fox

Stage Room

Break the Targets Room
1100

Beyond the hundreds of doors leading to the stages of combat sits a dusty vault door, the numbers on its keypad weathered away from age. This is the Break the Targets simulator, decommissioned several tournaments ago, but still, a place veterans know well.

In its center, his fur matted with sweat stands Fox McCloud. Of the 26 courses, only one is designed specifically for him. But that doesn't matter, The more challenging it is, the more his quickdraw game will improve.

Suddenly, the room morphs into a trapezoid-like, darkened catacomb, its targets flying hither and thither, its walls lined with spikes.

A target floats into him at the word "GO", a simple shine solves that problem. Fox fires two laser bolts, knocking out two moving targets. He jumps, knocking out the target above him, pivoting and firing at one on the upper left without thought, blasting a target on the very right askew in the same motion, and booting a target that flew towards him upon his landing. Flying into the second-to-last target via a Fox Illusion and a split second activating of his reflector ends the game.

COMPLETE!
Fox smiles, thinking of Dark Samus.

"Yeah, this is the ticket," he announces through labored breath to no one in particular.

He presses a single button. The targets reset. Fox smiles. He can do this all day.

Captain Falcon

Smash Mansion

Stage Room

Crosstown Skyscraper Stage

1230

Falcon stood across the stage from the River City Girls. Despite being a hell of a team, they couldn't be any different. Misako stood, ready to go, while Kyoko texted feverishly on her phone, giggling the whole way.

"Is she…ready to go?" Falcon prodded, shifting from side to side.

"She'll join us when she's done texting Riki," flatly declared Misako

"Where I come from, you can have stuff like that uploaded into your brain, and even we aren't as media addicted as you kids," Falcon huffed.

"You gonna crab, or are you gonna fight?"

Falcon shrugged, "Yeah, that's my bad."

The two charged each other, each cocking their fists back as the gap closed.

"Raptor Boost!" cried Falcon.

"Stone Hands!" growled Misako.

Two punches collided, but a second rocked Falcon, a third melting his legs out from under him. On instinct the racer rolled backward, dismounting in a standing position. Again, the two charged each combatant's flying knee connecting with the other's cheek. Falling into a genuflect position, Misako chuckled.

"What's so funny?"

Misako shot a glance at Kyoko, who had stopped texting. Their judgment was swift and cruel.

"God, you're so old,"

"Come again?" Falcon seethed.

"In the space of time, it takes one of you old-timers to hit one move, we can hit three."

"Yeah, it doesn't take a statstronaught to see why your tournament placements keep getting worse and worse."

"Statistician," groaned Misako.

"Oooooh," Kyoko's voice was full of understanding, "Always get those two confused."

"Anyway," Misako began, "Luigi is hungry, and if you don't make serious changes, he'll run you over. However, unlike him, you're actually cool and we want you to succeed."

"Alright. I'm here as long as you'll allow."

"Chun-Li canceled our appointment, and we can't find Isabelle, so…" Kyoko mused.

"Yes!" Falcon cheered, "Let's run it back,"

Peach

Smash Mansion

Stage Room

Suzaku Castle Stage (Omega Form)

1200

Ryu was an intimidating man, or at least that's what those who stood across him in combat said. Princess Peach was feeling it now, the nearly-always silent man standing across from her, arms crossed, the Japanese summer heat whistling in the wind.

"Before we get things underway, I must first thank you for attending to me on such short notice, but Daisy is working with Little Mac, so I thought you'd be the best training partner, having fought him under tournament parameters before."

"So Daisy is training with Mac hm?" Ryu pondered, his expression unchanged, "If that's the case, then we must counter-attack with projectiles and grapples."

"I agree. We'll begin on three," Peach nodded.

The two counted down simultaneously, and the skirmish began. Peach immediately picked a turnip, throwing it as she ran. Ryu channeled his chi, parrying the loaded vegetable easily, Peach picked and through another turnip mid-stride. Another parry and she was in a rage. Ryu snapped a fully charged Focus Punch at her, but she parried that. The toes of her right heel landed on Ryu's neck from an expertly thrown kick, and in that same instant, Ryu found himself thrown to the floor, Peach lightly tapping his chest.

"Yame," Peach declared, extending a hand.

Ryu took it, smiling the biggest Peach had ever seen him smile. The princess hoisted the Street Fighter to his feet.

"I had heard you spent some time in Tokyo for the Olympic Games, but it appears karate comes naturally to you."

"I've always been talented darling. But Daisy has always been better."

Ryu's eyes betrayed an unusual mischievousness, "Which is why you asked for my assistance correct?"

"Yes," Peach said.

"Very well then," Ryu nodded, getting back into his fighting stance, "Let's begin again then shall we?"

Daisy

Smash Mansion

Boxing Ring

1200

"So um…thanks for this," Daisy rubbed the back of her head, "Peach is working with Ryu so I thought-"
"No problem at all." Mac nodded.

"I especially don't want to take time away from you watchin' footage of Megaman…" Daisy began again.

Little Mac's expression darkened, "I've watched more footage of that ass than I'll ever need."

"Alright, so let's get started with some basic counterplay," hastily interrupted the voice of Doc Lewis, watching from the auditorium, "Fist bump 'an keep it clean!"

Frilly white-glove pounded leather boxing gloves, the two snapping into their combat stances.

"Duck this!" Mac proclaimed.

A straight right met only air, Daisy smugly crouched down. The brunette answered back with a body shot, which Mac answered by lowering his guard, wincing as a dainty glove connected with the flesh on his arm.

"Agh, you princesses can hit," Mac laughed through gritted teeth.

Shuffling his feet, Mac prepped for his next blow, "Duck this!"

Again, she did, jumping up, and bringing down both fists upon Mac's unsuspecting head. Mac's knees crumpled, missing a body shot from Daisy by gravity's grace as he fell to a sitting position.

"Criminy, what was that?" moaned Mac.

"Something I learned from a homie in the Olympics."

Mac's eyes narrowed as he shook the cobwebs, "One of Sonic's people?"

"His ex-girlfriend actually!" Daisy smiled, "Once you get past the stalker vibes she's actually a really fun hang."

"Groovy move," rang the voice of Doc, "But she'll expect it."

"Huh?" was the only response she could muster.

"Mac knows this. I taught him everything he knows, but not everything I know. Ya, dig?"

Everything became clear when she saw the boxer's enthusiastic, happy nod.

"Ohhhhh," she realized, "She's probably got counters for all my moves, bein' she's the one she trained me."

"Mm-hm!" Doc's voice echoed through the stage, "That's why you gotta go full steam ahead, rely on the basic fundamentals."

"Then can we work on parrying? I'd like to be able to tank anything she throws at me," Daisy asked.

"What's so fundamental about that young lady?" boomed Doc Lewis, Daisy wincing as if she'd incurred the wrath of the Seven Stars themselves.

"Nah Doc," Little Mac shook his head, "It'll help 'er if she throws them turnips. It's what I need to start doin' against Megaman too."

Doc sighed, "Aight kid if you say so."

"You ready?" Mac smirked, putting up his fists.

Daisy mirrored the gesture, "Always,"

Ice Climbers

Smash Mountain: Base

0500

Popo slurped the last of Nana's famous stew as the sun began to rise, illuminating the pink and blue picnic blanket the couple sat upon. The Climber clad in blue let the flavors dance in his mouth. Mushrooms and pumpkin provided the protein, while unusually zesty tomatoes brought the flavor to the proceedings. Nana was the finest cook Popo knew, but something about the water in this place, which provided the energy equivalent to coffee or the atrocious soda their kid Smasher peers drank, made it all the more delicious. Popo slurped down the remaining broth, catching Nana looking at him, a sarcastic wryness plaguing her grinning lips.

"So, you ready to go?" she asked eagerly.

Popo nodded, "Yeah, and you said this tree you wanted to train on was where?"

"A level below the peak,"

Popo nodded, springing to his feet. In a maneuver they'd done the thousands of times, they wrapped the picnic blanket tight, encasing all the bowls and utensils inside, Popo hoisting the bag over his shoulder. Nana took point.

"Ready?" she asked.

"Yuh," grunted Popo.

Much as they had in the first week, the two jumped expertly up the mountain, neither climber missing a beat, their bounds light and in sync. In no time at all, the two had reached the tree. The blackened tree stood intimidatingly, its hundred or so branches jutting from all possible angles, each stick sporting the roughness of an ancient snapping turtle. At that moment Popo hesitated, Nana jumped onto a branch, beginning to pull up. Popo jumped into action as soon as this registered, hooking a thorny branch with his legs, doing situps suspended in midair. The thorns nipped at the limbs of both Climbers. Popo glanced at Nana, whose focused, gritted expression betrayed nothing. Popo let his mind wander, the rhythm of his workout established. Could she be thinking of what lie ahead, the barbing pain of Zelda's magic, or Sheik's needles? If she wasn't betraying fear, he couldn't either.
Murasat's many lectures echoed in his head. Their emotions, their movements, must be in sync. If Popo deviated from his part in the greater good, all that was left was an icy tomb. Though the Ultimate Tournament bore no such stakes, to not treat it as such would be a slap in the face of everyone in their village and abroad who believed in them.

The two worked out in silence for six hours. Not even the act of swapping exercises required a word between them. An hour had passed, Popo noticing Nana had finally dropped to remove the thorns from her gloves and ankles of her parka. Popo did the same.

"Itah," balked Nana, "I've been at this for an hour, amazed you didn't notice."

"I can't notice things you don't communicate Nana," Popo said, completely deadpan, "Or did you forget your climbing commands?"

"Climbing co-" Nana's face twisted in confusion, the thought befuddling her mid-word, "What does that have to do with anything? You sound like The Chief."

Again, Nana's face morphed. This time it was a disappointment, "You've been thinking about his lessons the whole time haven't you?"

"To not take this 100 percent seriously would be an insult to everyone in the village, you know that," Popo argued.

"It's not about that!" snapped Nana.

Nana breathed deeply for a few seconds. A final sigh led to her posture strengthening.

"It's not that we aren't taking this seriously," Nana began, "But you know how I feel about the old ways."

"You let Chief know it when we were younger, at every opportunity," Popo grumbled.

"Right, but I think I figured out why I never liked it. Think about the match with Saki. You won that through sheer strength, on your own in the end."

Popo nodded.

"All of the old teachings are based on the greater whole, but we're just as great individually as we are together, just like Zelda is as herself and Sheik."

"Individual training sessions against Zelda and Sheik AIs on the agenda then?" Popo offered.

"Now you're getting it," Nana enthusiastically clapped her gloved hands, "It's a skill that might be bad for climbing, but you'll need it here and when you eventually inherit the Chief title."

Popo nodded, "Just keep reminding me, old habits die hard."

"I will," Nana nodded back, "But only if you remind me of the Chief's commandments if I get too reckless."

"I've been doing that since we could talk," Popo smiled wide.

Nana muttered angrily to herself, grinding her climbing cleats into the snow. In two skips, she was rooting around in an improvised picnic blanket knapsack on Popo's back. From it, she pulled a pink sweater.

"I'm gonna go give Mewtwo this," Nana grumbled, jumping up the final level to the peak.

"What if he's not…" Popo protested, leaping after her.

Sure enough, on the peak stood a shivering Mewtwo.

"The idiots kicked me out to break rocks again." Mewtwo's shivering, almost sad voice entered their minds.

"TA-DA1' Nana shouted, presenting the sweater, "Your days of being cold are over!"

Mewtwo teleported, reappearing in a squatting position underneath the sweater, sticking his head and arms through the appropriate holes in one motion.

"My word," his disembodied voice crowed, "It's as if the sweater is generating its own warmth."

"Old hometown trick," Nana boasted, "The inside is lined with Topi feathers, which do exactly that."

"I can't imagine the Topis were happy to part with their feathers."

"Oh, they are," growled Popo, " Seems like every Topi and their mother hens set up some crappy bootleg clothing shop, buncha bastards."

"Popo, we aren't here to be racist, we're here so that Mewtwo can focus on more important things, like training!" Nana yelled.

Mewtwo shook his head, "My opponent is Ganondorf. I needn't train."

The Ice Climbers briefly made eye contact, immediately snapping their gazes to Mewtwo, knowing full well that if they did, they'd burst into laughter.

"Really?" they squeaked simultaneously.

"Ganondorf is a louse," Mewtwo began to rant, "I am better on my worst day than he would be on his best. Ganondorf cannot do anything right, much less win a fight. He very nearly doomed this entire universe because all he can do is latch on to other much more competent schemers and be duped."

The pebbles beneath them began to levitate, snow droplets suspended eerily in mid-air, the white slush contrasted against the telltale sign of Mewtwo's psychic power, a purple hue.

The couple gulped, breaking Mewtwo out of his trance. Like the beginnings of a pipe bursting, the water flopped down in one swift, unsettling plop.

"Thank you.,"

Even Mewtwo's inner voice breathed heavy.

"Thank you," he reiterated again, "For the sweater.."

"No problem Mewtwo. I love knitting, and if it keeps you warm when the idiots kick you out…" Nana began.

"Hey, we've gotta go find a room to train in," Popo interrupted, "Have a good day Mewtwo!"

Popo leaped down the mountain, Nana following after him.

"What was that?" Nana demanded above the howling winds.

"If you had had your way, Mewtwo would've gotten so angry he split the mountain in half."

"Says you!" declared Nana in a childish whine as biting as the wind.

"Tactical retreats are beneficial in situations like these. You'll see what I mean when we hit the ring."

"Says you again,"

"Will you grow up?"

Popo didn't even have to look behind him to see Nana smile.

"Nope,"

"You're lucky you're cute you know that?"

The mountaineers went down the rest of the mountain, giggling.

Zelda

Smash Mansion

Stage Room

1230

Zelda strode down the Stage Room, doing as best as she could to ignore the sounds of physical contact on the other side of the many doors. Her focus was just ahead.

Arms crossed, leaning against the "Spiral Mountain" door stood Erdrick.

"Good afternoon Your Highness," greeted Erdrick.

Zelda nodded, "Good afternoon to you as well. Shall we?"

Hero nodded, a rare grin etching at his face, "We shall."

Erdrick opened the door, gesturing Zelda inside.

"After you," he coaxed her in a near whisper.

Nodding curtly, Zelda stepped inside. She sighed as Erdrick closed the door.

"Something the matter Your Highness?"

"Blank rooms cause me…" Zelda tapped her chin, looking for the word, "Not fear, but dread. Dread of isolation, like I once sentenced Ganondorf to."

Erdrick curtly nodded, "Aye. I often feel such dread around volcanos, as my father, the great hero Ortega was swallowed by one."

"I'm sorry to hear that Erdrick."

"Thank you, but that isn't the reason why you called me here," was Erdrick's sudden, stern reply.

Zelda shook her head, "True. The reason why I've been…erm…what I want to know is…how did you learn to cast magic?"

"Everyone, where I'm from, has the ability to, it's just a matter of how many monsters one slays, and in turn, how many blessings of the goddess one receives."

"Oh..." Zelda frowned, "Much like my own magical abilities then, without the monster-slaying of course."

"You were expecting differently?" Erdrick asked.

"Admittedly yes. I am always looking to bolster my magic repertoire."

"Even if you cannot learn magic the way I have, perhaps you can test your own magic against my own."

Zelda's expression became joyful, almost childlike in realization, "You set this up?"

"Perceptive as ever Your Highness."

Erdrick confidently strode over to the controls, pressing a few buttons. When he did, the sunny spring of Spiral Mountain became their environment. A triumphant, spooky choir could be heard along with a single piano key being pressed

3

2

1

GO!

Both stood still, concentrating. For Zelda, a ghostly suit of armor clunked together. For Erdrick, the ancient runes of a language long dead enveloped him, fire encroached in his hand.

"SHADOW-" Zelda called

As her dutiful pawn launched forward, Erdrick cast his mighty fireball, the magic piercing the knight and scorching Zelda. Erdrick's eyes widened as Zelda immediately rebounded from the blow, jumping back to the stage as the mountain spun underneath them.

"Okay," Zelda breathed, nodding.

Minutes later

ZELDA WINS!

Erdrick could only blink as the duo appeared in the now blank Spiral Mountain room.

"Now," Zelda authoritatively commanded, "Let us review."

With measured hunting and pecking that still contained an elegance that only a royal could manage, Zelda had queued up the footage of their match.

"You were correct in saying that Smash is half luck and half skill, but such is the same in the wars in which we train."

Erdrick watched the footage silently. He held his own against Zelda, much as he had against Banjo-Kazooie, but never in his fighting life had he experienced an onslaught of nonsense as he had here.

"When we fought Tabbu," Zelda continued, "Things fell from the skies amidst the chaos. Blessing of Hylia, curses of Demise, it was up to us."

Erdrick simply nodded, and Zelda raised an eyebrow.

"Your expression indicates you've been reading up on Hylian religion."

"Yes, and I'd like to discuss it over dinner."

"Religion is hardly a dinner discussion. Perhaps your world's bestiary would be, however?"

Erdrick felt a lump in his throat at the princess' half-joking half-scolding tone, the lump flaring up at her punctuation choice, a playful wink.

"Yes, I'd like that," stammered Erdrick.

With a confirming giggle, Zelda strode out of the room without a word, Erdrick following.

Ganondorf, King Dedede

Brawl Cave

1300

…" And then to dat dere Kirbeh did I declare, I love cake and…and violence!" Dedede's chortle boomed across the cave.

Ganondorf gritted his teeth. The cake and violence story was a tired old hat for anyone who had been side-by-side on the battlefield with Dedede. The Gerudo King read the room. Bowser didn't break from his task of heating rocks for crushing. Ganondorf himself made sure to shoot a look at the lounging penguin with the most stink-eye he could muster. Unfortunately, the other occupant of the cave, King K. Rool, smiled. Ganondorf sighed. The pain would continue.

"Your magnitude for clobbering Kirby is admirable King Dedede," King K. Rool approvingly nodded.

"See, ya get it!" Dedede victoriously slapped a stalagmite.

"Oh no, I do," the crocodile purred, "Navigating the world with do-gooders in it is difficult."

"It is!" Dedede whined, "Kirbeh is borderline immortal, but Gawd fuhbid ya steal his cake."

"Gifted magic bananas by God. Banana Bird another nation once a slice of the pie."

"Preachin' to the choir Rool," sneered Dedede.

"Don't you cook meals with the thing occasionally?" snapped Ganondorf.

"He killed a god because someone stole his cake. If he really wanted to he could make veal outta me."

"You fools," hissed Ganondorf, "I've never understood your insistence on being cohorts with your enemies."

"You're just a square," shrugged Bowser, still unbroken from heating up rocks.

Dedede laughed, King K. Rool hissed, good eye narrowed in childish mischief.

"I try to invite you to stuff you know," continued Bowser, "Dad's club especially and you turn me down."

"I will not become Mewtwo," growled Ganondorf.

The Triforce of Power seethed, and King Dice appeared before him.

"Remember mooks, you're mine." the specter of the casino owner warned.

"Perhaps Mewtwo's claims that you're an anti-social asshole who can't do anything right hurt cause they're true?" Bowser asked.

With that, Ganondorf unfurled his cape, marching out of the cave.

"Dad's club is at 1930 correct?" asked King K. Rool.

"Yeah. And you're already ignoring Ganondorf," Bowser boomed, "You'll get along great!"

"It's either get along or be imprisoned, I learned that early," mumbled K. Rool.

Ganondorf exited the cave to their laughter, the Triforce of Power pulsating once again.

"Remember mooks, you're mine," King Dice's ghostly visage warned again.

Pit

Smash Mansion

Residency Hall

Pit and Palutena's suite

1200

His Smash Communicator pinged.

"Woo hoo!" cheered Pit, scrambling over to the watch strung on the unmade bed.

He flopped onto the bed, waking up the idle communicator. Dark Pit's frowning face appeared, "Game and Watch hasn't left his room all day. No training it looks like," announced his pre-recorded voice.

Pit's eyes lit up, keying Palutena's communicator number.

"LADY PALUTENA!" came Pit's excited greeting.

Palutena snickered at the visage of the Mansion library behind her, "WHAT?"

"RENT THE VIDEO GAMES!"

Palutena snorted, full-on giggling now. The communicator's image disappeared. Seconds later, Palutena warped into the room, two armfuls of weathered handheld video games cradled against her chest. Palutena immediately saw the state of the bed and frowned.

"Now Pit, what have I told you about making your bed."

Pit's heart jackrabbited. On one hand, he hated to let his goddess down. But on the other, her stern voice carried a certain call to it, like a siren's song. Pit saw Palutena's frown tug into a grin for a split second. Simultaneously the two saw the recognition in the other that they liked all of what they heard.

"Just…make the bed," Palutena coughed, "You need to be able to lay all these out."
"Aye aye!" Pit saluted.

Eyes squinted in concentration, Pit examined the scene. Luckily, Pit had remade his messy bed enough times back home to have Palutena's strict standards down to a science. In one swift movement, all four corners were tucked as tightly as physically possible. For good measure, Pit repeated the process of laying the top sheet over the bed, as well as Palutena's favorite blanket, one green as her hair knitted by the Moirai as a birthday present. Smoothing out the blanket, Pit triumphantly placed his hands on his hips.

"Ta-da!" proclaimed Pit.

Palutena laid a loving hand on Pit's shoulder. Before Pit could even process what was happening, he could feel Palutena's baby-soft fingers dance in place on his neck.

"Good," she whispered.

On the other side of the room, on the shared kitchenette, a bottle of champagne mysteriously popped open.

"Woah! Sorry, telekinesis!" shouted Palutena, cheeks as red as a fire engine.

"Yeah!" agreed Pit, just as ablaze, "Hate it when that happens!"

The two laughed forcefully, awkwardly together, hoping someone would stop.

"So anyway, the video games," Paultena announced.

The goddess' form was messy, tossing the handhelds onto the bed in one massive cast outward. Yet, the handhelds lined themselves up neatly along the surface of the bed.

"There it is, Pit," Palutena spoke with reverence, "Every Game and Watch title ever released."

Pit nodded, an ear-to-ear smile on his face, "Great! The more of these games I play, the better I'll be prepared against Mister Game and Watch. I'll even understand how he moves if I'm the one moving him, ya know?"

Palutena nodded, "An unorthodox strategy to be sure, but well thought out."

"Where do I even begin?" Pit wondered aloud, "There's like, ten years of gaming history all on this bed."

"Think Pit, what was the move that gave Chrom the most trouble?"

Pit didn't even have to ponder his answer, "Ball!"

"Very good Pit," Palutena smiled.

His entire body spasmed. Most noticeably, his wings flapped violently forward before resting in neutral.

"Aye aye…Lady Palutena," Pit stammered.

Palutena watched with an admiring eye as he played the Game and Watch Ball handheld. The angel lay on his belly. Deep stints of concentration came intermittently with bursts of joy as he eclipsed his high score, happily kicking his feet the whole way.

To think how the Ball maneuver affected Chrom, pondered the goddess, And yet, despite this, Pit remains steadfast, unafraid.

A million intrusive thoughts of varying forms of affection bubbled to the surface of her mind.

"I…uh…can go grab us food," Palutena announced.

"Sure," Pit mumbled, not taking his eyes off the game, "Tacos?"

"Tacos sound delicious," Palutena agreed.

She spun on her heel to leave, which prompted Pit to flop to his back.

"Lady Palutena?"

"Yes, Pit?"

Pit's smiled warmly, "Thank you… for everything."

If she didn't leave the room, she'd have her way with him right this very second.

She turned back around, venturing into the long hallway, Krystal was walking in the opposite direction.

Thinking about Vergil are we teased the goddess.

Says the perverted goddess thinking of her servant snapped Krystal telepathically

Listen, I won't speak of your perversions if you won't speak of mine,

Deal,

As the two passed one another, the ideal version of each of their nights flooded the mind of the opposing party

I have to try that, both women declared.

Smash Mansion

Stage Room

Battlefield

1400

A bead of sweat slithered down Red's neck as he watched the battlefield before them. On one side of Battlefield, he silently signed to Squirtle, who, using Withdraw, capped four Cruel Brawl level Alloys at the ankles, knocking them aloft like bowling pins. His only pause was to wince at the barrage of explosions going off on the other side. Finally switching to Charizard and ending his opponents with Flare Blitz, he used the brief reprieve to glance at the hovering platform across from his. Green signed to her Pokemon in much the same way, but she made the art of switching and combining moves into an art form. Pulling away to allow Inteleon and Cinderace to fire off with projectiles, only for Rillaboom to be called in to lay on the pain at close range when everyone was stunned, Green had racked up an impossible 21 points, whereas Red trailed behind at 12.

Much as she had several other times, a swift command from Rillaboom sent all those trapped in the Leaf Storm flying, and now she was glancing at him. An annoyed glint, like an older sister, might give a tagalong older brother. Red frowned, his indignance turning to horror as he heard Charizard wheeze out in pain, roaring again as a Captain Falcon Alloy made contact with him. The winged Pokemon attempted to fly back, but a Kirby Alloy cut himself off at the pass.

GAME! NEW RECORD

The room around them dissipated, and now all six Pokemon stood side by side with their trainers. A scoff from Green broke the silence.

"You aren't listening," she grunted.

"What, and you're a Pokemon Professor now?" Red snapped.

Green rolled her eyes, "You don't have to be a Professor to be annoyed when advice is ignored," Green snapped back, "We talked about this. We have a tool that will allow us to keep our opponents on our toes like no other. Yet, you still battle the old way."

"Who was champion, huh?" retorted Red.

"Joey's Rattata was in the top percentage, yet he couldn't battle his way out of a paper bag."

"What does that have to do with literally anything we're talking about right now."

"It means," interrupted the buttery smooth voice of Inteleon, "That your Kantonian ways of battling are old and trite. Boss Green is just trying to teach you a better way."

"My Pokemon aren't built to be the most well-oiled machine, but my Pokemon more than make up for it with guts!" Red yelled.

"Yeah!" agreed Charizard

"AYE!" roared Rillaboom, "SEE INTEL, T'AINT WORTH TEACHIN' EM NOTHIN' THEY'RE SO DAFT!"

"Who the Darkrai are you calling d-"

Charizard's hissed threat had caused himself and Rillaboom to instinctively square up to one another.

"HEY!" Ivysaur barked.

Although Ivysaur shouted, it was a Water Gun jet to Charizards back that drew their attention. Squirtle stood, water dripping from his mouth, seething.

"WHY ARE WE FIGHTING, THIS IS NONSENSE! GREEN, WE'RE A FAMILY!"

"Yeah," came Ivysaur's throaty old growl, "You'd best get your team in line."

Green shook her head, "No. All I'm saying Red, is that if we meet in Round 3, you'll lose, and if you remain so stubborn, I can't help you. Guys, let's go."

The Galar contingent about-faced, walking to the exit of the room. A single whimper from Squirtle caused Green to look back ever so briefly. But, the Trainer and her Pokemon remained steadfast, exiting the room with a mighty slam of the blast door.

Red sighed, pivoting on his heel to address his team, "Alright, so we know Lucas is practicing Mu with the other spiritualists at Miss Trainer's brother's zen garden. The only way we'll compete with that is brute strength. We're going to run Cruel Brawl with intermittent breaks for the rest of the day. Got it, everyone?"

Squirtle gulped, but Charizard and Ivysaur nodded.

"Alright," Red said, typing in the terminal, "Let's begin."

Wolf

Smash Mansion

Stage Room

Smashville Stage

1230

3

Wolf bared all his teeth in a sinister smile. The little bastard had actually shown up.

2

The Villager shuffled aimlessly. Wolf licked his lips.
1

GO!

Wolf fell to all four mid-run, bolting at Villager, who had barely left the ground. Snatching Villager by the throat, he slammed him down, extending his claws just enough to lightly poke the skin

"End simulation, code ABZR," Wolf announced to the room

"No contest," declared Mills' Frames canned voice announced as the sunny day faded to the all-white, sterile room.

"That's my lesson boy," Wolf looked down at horrified Villager, "Strike to kill, every time."

With that, Wolf unhanded Villager, turning his back to leave.

"B-but Wolf," stammered Villager, "Shouldn't we train for ranged attacks if your opponent is Toon Link? I can help you."

Wolf removed a cigar from his pocket, lighting it, "Nah, I fought alongside him in the Subspace War. He's been futzing around with the other elf boys all day."

He took a puff of the cigar

" He needs to learn too," Wolf muttered to himself.

Villager sat in silence as Wolf closed the door behind him, taking more puffs of his trusty cigar.

Snake and Cloud

Smash Mansion

Snake and Isabelle's suite

0700

Cloud Strife awoke to the incredibly bit crushed sound of dragon's fire. Then another clip of the same sound, then another.

He couldn't help but chuckle, he knew what was happening. Six more ejections of fire played over his communicator speaker confirmed his thoughts. Tifa had gone jogging, the kids, notorious early risers Marlene and Denzel, had pulled at Tifa's heartstrings into taking them with her, and they'd already made new friends and seen new things.

Rolling over, Strife clutched the communicator in his hand, clicking the notification and scrolling through the messages. The first ten photos or so were of varying architecture throughout Smash City. A Toad House, a Kong treehouse. Tifa had gone through the sections of Smash City to look at houses. Two enormous skyscrapers followed next, likely from any of the worlds which had seen the edges of space.
The architecture jamboree, broken by a selfie with a group of Snowmads, all wearing handmade, "Marry me Nana," shirts, continued with pictures of the monolithic Smash crafts, enormous spaceships bought by the uber-rich.

One, which looked like an honest-to-Gaia bronzed Midgar in the sky, featured the text "What is that?"

That was the last picture. At least it was for half a second more, as the next picture was Tifa, Marlene, and Denzel riding a teacup ride.

Cloud's face twisted in confusion. He zoomed in on the image, and sure enough, the teacups bore the Nintendo Land logo.

He highlighted Tifa's picture, the one of the metropolis above the metropolis. A "quote" option appeared and Cloud selected it. Immediately, he began to type.

"Smashcraft R. Ryu's friends. A couple of people who've worked with Megaman and him both can leave freely, dual citizens, but of us, the only two people who have clearance are Ryu and Mario. "

Cloud sent that text, immediately followed up by, "How the hell did you get into Nintendo Land this early?"

Cloud suddenly shivered, remembering all the times Ness had demanded he and Lucas have fun, dragging them to the theme park.

"Well, when you make a public appearance with an ex-Smash champion you get into stuff for free."

"Using the clout huh?" Cloud texted, "You and Aerith are definitely back together."

An emoji of the devil appeared in response. The next picture soon appeared, Marlene and Denzel posed happily next to a Chocobo, the riding bird itself looking content.

"They miss Bobson" was Tifa's follow-up caption

Cloud laughed, remembering the time he had impulse bought a Chocobo, which the kids dutifully named Bobson Dugnutt. The glare Tifa had given him reminded him of the same look Tifa had in her eyes when she spiked Sephiroth on his head in his Safer form.

Finally getting ready for his day, he headed down the stairs, stopping in the self-serve cafeteria.

"The usual sir?" asked the Wire Frame behind the counter.

"Yep." Cloud nodded.

Quickly grabbing the styrofoam cup the Wire Frame produced, he headed back up the stairs to Snake's room. A single knock was all it took for Snake to answer. The man was in a ratty US Army t-shirt and basketball shorts, and judging by the sweat, he hadn't just woken up.

"You working out already?" Cloud teased, stepping inside.

"I don't sleep most nights," gruffly answered the soldier.

Cloud glanced to his right, seeing an enormous refrigerator, separate from the one that came standard issue in every suite. This one was sky blue in color and adorned with the logo Cloud recognized as Nook Inc. He opened the fridge, letting out of gasp of shock. The industrial size fridge, six shelves tall, was filled with Vacation Juice.

"Bahamut, NEO-Bahamut, and Bahamut ZERO," Cloud exclaimed, his voice staggered with awe.

"Yeah, Isabelle likes herself some alcohol," Snake muttered, not even looking up from tinkering with his wrist communicator, "Shall we?"

"Yeah," Cloud said, sitting on the couch in front of the TV, "Where is the little dog anyway?"

"Training with Incineroar."

Cloud grinned, "Poor Joker,"

A single, laughing grunt escaped Snake, grabbing his wrist communicator and easing into the recliner beside cloud, setting it on the small table between them. At that moment, three faces appeared. A scruffy-haired man with glasses, an old, well-groomed man, and a…Cloud struggled to think of the real-world equivalent to Wutainian. It came to him. The woman was Asian.

"Pleasure to meet you, Mister Strife," began the old man, "I'm Colonel Roy Campbell. The lady is Mei Ling, and the starstruck one is Otacon."

The ex-SOLDIER squinted, Otacon's eyes were as wide as saucers.

"We were Snake's support detail on his most important mission, and he suggested we help you out as well."

"Honor to meet you all," Cloud greeted, punctuating it with a small wave.

Standing up once again, Snake tinkered with the television, pressing the buttons on the flat screen's side. Still, footage of Green's dominant performance against Dark Pit appeared on the TV.

"Can everyone see?" Snake asked.

Three exclamations of agreement played out over the communicator's speakers. A cough from Otacon silenced the room.

"Before we get this started Mister Strife," stammered Otacon, "I've gotta say I've been a big fan for a long time, especially when you took on the Ultimate Weapon aboard the Highwind. It reminded me of when…"

"Not the time," Snake growled, pressing a button on the remote.

Cloud's eyes widened. Like the other Smashers, he had watched the dog-walking of Dark Pit, but a day later it felt more intimidating somehow.

"How do I deal with this?" came Snake's grumpy ultimate question.

"You've got some of the best grappling techniques I've ever seen Snake. That'll be your advantage," encouraged Mei Ling.

"But Fighting type Pokemon exist," countered Otacon, "They'll be prepared for that."

"Everything has to breathe Snake. Don't be afraid to incapacitate them by cutting off their breathing," sagely offered Campbell.

"So that's one," Snake snapped, "Then what?"

"C4," Cloud muttered, "As much C4 as you can muster."

"So what, you want me to blow myself up?" Snake growled.

"I mean…the way damage works in this thing you can afford-"

"That's what I'm saying!" barked Otacon, "Will you listen to him?"

"Using C4 this way has been a hot button issue for quite a while," Campbell explained.

Cloud nodded as Snake stared at the footage, which was short enough to have looped several times already. The old soldier let out a hum of consideration.

"Do you think it'll allow me to tank some of the projectiles?"

"Hm?" asked Mei Ling.

"What I'm asking is, can I hit myself hard enough to tank those Ocelot-looking finger guns or the fireballs?"

Cloud shrugged, "I don't see why not."

Murmurs of agreements came from the other three.

"Okay," Snake thumbed a button on the remote, "Now let's look at Bayonetta."

The five watched Bayonetta's against Torri Gachi in silence. Mei Ling was the first to speak up.

"Can I offer some advice Cloud?"

Once again, Cloud shrugged, "Go ahead."
"We have a saying in our world, 'be like water.' If there's anything you can improve, perhaps it's to improve your Blade Beam speed."

Cloud nodded, abruptly standing up, walking to the door.

"Where are you headed?" Snake asked

Cloud glanced behind him, sipping the coffee that hadn't left his side, "To train. Thanks all."

Robin

Smash Mansion grounds

"Duel Ball" Arena

1200

The perpetual spring breeze of the Smashverse whistled through the stone monolith of the Duel Ball arena. Robin's fingers twitched in anticipation, drumming the hilt of his Levin Sword.

"Try your best dad," warned Robin.

"Aye," Chrom, who stood at the opposite end of the platform, "Same to you."

With a mighty, cleaving swing, Chrom launched the bomb. The wick immediately lit, the slick bomb sliding across the floor of the arena.

"What say you now?" mocked Chrom.

Robin put a hand tilted to the side against his forehead, squinting at the few pieces of stone that remained afloat.

"Nope. Too much rubbish,"

"What?" Chrom demanded

Chrom's whine synched perfectly with the explosion of the bomb. The remains of stone pillars that had previously been the bomb's burial ground jutted up limply, not gaining enough height to hit the bevy of targets that remained on the top right of the board."

"Ah, bollocks," Chrom growled, "I did the Roy thing,"

Robin nodded, stroking his chin exaggeratedly. It was true, He had mimicked Roy's exaggerated cleave in Round 1, so much so that the earth beneath him erupted, much as Roy's final strike carried a ballista explosion. But nonetheless, he'd failed to break the record.

"Right," Robin began, "But much like anything in life, there are multiple factors to consider,"

Chrom exaggeratedly yet silently mouthed Robin's words back to him with childish petulance. Lucina turned a full 180 degrees to conceal her laughter.

A new bomb appeared, the targets regenerating.

"Perhaps it's best, to begin with, projectiles."

With a grace that, in Lucina's opinion, rivaled Olivia, Robin immediately unleashed Thoron, following it up with Elfire, and yet another Thoron. Pulling back and launching forward, Robin stabbed the bomb with the Levin Sword, sending it spiraling into the right. Bombs littered across the playing field exploded, and stone columns fell, obliterating several more targets.

"That's what you did!" Chrom shouted, his voice cracking, "You just copied me!"

"Right, but allow me to demonstrate,"

This broke Lucina's cover, who snorted, "You sound like that man you spent all night socializing with last night, Edelgard's teacher…Byleth!" she finally happened across the name.

"Yes, when that student Petra wasn't in his lap," Robin grumbled, snapping back to reality.

"Anyway," continued the silver-haired tactician as the automated voice gave him the go-ahead for Round 2, "There are several mathematical components to consider, such as angles and momentum."

Robin backflipped over the bomb, firing off the same nimble volley he had before. This time, his Levin wall bounced the bomb against the curved back wall. The bomb bounced off the wall, nailing the targets on the upper right perfectly. The bomb didn't even need to explode to cement Robin his perfect score.

Chrom nodded, his uptight demeanor now calm, "I see. And you believe this to be all you need to do to beat Pacman. And you Lucina, you haven't trained against the mighty Pichu"

Lucina smiled, "He is, as they say, a one-trick pony. I've got this even if the two rodents weren't galavanting around town on some public appearance Mario assigned them to.

Robin shrugged, "I know Pacman better than you do father. I know he isn't training."

Pacman

Smash Mansion grounds

Backyard hot tub

1600

I shot the sheriff, but I didn't shoot no deputy

Blunt in mouth, Pacman smiled impishly at his communicators. Miss Pacman had just sent him a series of lewd selfies and smuggled some mind-blowing kush in some fanmail.

Atari above, I married good, smoothly concluded Pacman's inner voice.

And just like that, Subject Zero was before him, "Dad's Club starts in an hour, and you aren't ready?" balked the bathrobe-clad samurai.

"First rule of dad's club junior dad, we don't talk about the start time of Dad's Club.

"I'm bringing french fries right?"

"Yeah! Get 'em from Big Bang. The missus and I went there last night with the kid, and them thangies thangin' if you catch my meaning."

"I…um…don't, but I understand the directive. French fries from Big Bang Burger."

"Yuuuup," crowed Pacman as Subject Zero expertly skittered away.

Ludwig

Smash Mansion

Residency Hall

Koopa Kingdom Suite

1400

The swells of 1812 Overture played on Ludwig Von Koopa's headphones. Nose deep in a laptop computer his father had given him for Bowser Day, his astute eyes were primed on the screen, Ken and Ryu exchanging kicks in the first round. When Bowser Junior had said his musical mind was the best for analyzing the kicks he was right. Ken was as grateful as the Koopa Kingdom's finest dance troupe. Ludwig licked his maw, miming the controls of his Koopa Klown Car.

Roll back, roll back, activate the saw blade, send a cannonball after him.

A brief thought hit him. Did this performance of the Overture feature cannons?

He shook the thoughts away, continuing to mime controlling his clown car as the music picked up in ferocity.

Ludwig frowned. The anxiety of having less than 24 hours to train appropriately crawled up his neck in a cold, unforgiving slither.

"I will not be the dance partner up to your caliber Herr Masters," he grumbled to himself.

His communicator began to beep. Clawing at the center button. Iggy's quaking face took center stage, his bloodshot eyes noticeable even through the hologram.

"Just saw Ken with Dad talking about Dad's Club! He hasn't trained today!" excitedly squeaked Iggy.

"Excellent, but I'm afraid you caught me in a bad time. I'm analyzing Ken's performance.

Boom!

Boom!

"What the hell are you listening to?" shrieked the palm tree-headed Koopa.

"The 1812 Overture, a classical music selection from something similar to Earth One. I was afraid it was missing the..."

His eyes widened.

"How could I have been so foolish," he declared, "I must look for what is missing in Herr Masters' performance!"

The footage gifted him the answer at that moment. Items fell, but they were ignored.

"That's it..."

The laughter overcame him, an evil chuckle at first, morphed into a megalomaniacal cackle.

"I'll….um…leave you to it then," Iggy stammered, his eyes uncomfortably darting away as he cut communication.

Simon, Ritcher

Smash Mansion

Belmonts' Suite

1500

Ritcher Belmont rolled over. Head throbbing, visions of a fist, visions memories of weeping openly, Palutena and Pit carrying him, the holy beings carrying him, his meaty arms over their shoulders.

Silently, he staggered to his private bathroom, examining himself in the mirror. His face was bruised and puffy. His nose was visibly mushy and broken, the left eye was swollen shut.

"Hey! I'm tired of bein' treated like a child old man. I slew Dracula toooooo," sang the distant memory.

The last thing he remembered was Simon's gritted expression. Next, a blink-and-you'll miss is the memory of ancestors and descendants looking down at his fallen form.

As if on cue, he heard Simon rise in the bedroom directly across from his. Immediately, Ritcher bolted into the room. Simon looked groggy too, but he hid it expertly.

"Look," began the younger vampire hunter, "I deserved the punch, but I still think you could treat me like a child less often."

"Then," Simon grumbled, "Prove it to me in the ring. You got lucky against Ridley. To best me would be a much more thorough test of what those who came after me taught you."

Ritcher nodded, "Aye. May the best man win."

Mirroring the gesture, Simon affirmed, "May the best man win."

Ritcher backed out of the room, staggering out of the exit of the suite, into the residential hall proper. He breathed a sigh of relief, as the hall was completely vacant. He didn't want anyone to see him, at least before he got one of Doctor Mario's megavitamins!

Banjo-Kazooie

Smash Mansion residence hall

0900

." Gahh, are you sure this is a good idea," whined Kazooie, in her usual nest within Banjo's backpack as the bear trudged past the many doors in the hallway.

Banjo sighed, observing the many flags that were adorned the marble wall, his bare feet scuffling along a royal blue carpet.

"Who'd have a better strategy on Terry than the person who just fought 'im? I mean Jiggy Wiggy who'd have a better strategy than Hubert."

Kazooie made a gagging noise as they approached the empress' door.

"Kazooie, we ain't gonna have such luxury in the next round I don't think. Joker's a nice feller, but them Phantom Thieves are real secretive like," Banjo advised, deadly serious in tone.

The Breegul rolled her eyes, "If I agree, will you stop treating me like a fucking hatchling?"

"If it'll zip that potty mouth, then sure," Banjo grumbled.

He knocked at the door and Hubert answered, eying the bear up and down as if they were hostile strangers.

"What's your issue Alan Dickman?" Kazooie hissed.

"Besides the usual transgression of injecting our lives with your commoner filth, I must admit my abhorrence comes from surprise. Meaning, I didn't expect you to actually adhere to the time we'd set aside for you."

"Jiggy Wiggy, you sleep in one time and ya never live it down 'round here," it was Banjo's turn to roll his eyes, Kazooie could only giggle.

"Hubert," came Edelgard's sharp voice from the innards of their suite, "These are important members of the house we've built. I must ask that you stow your paranoia for now."

"Yes m'lady," Hubert's reply was immediate, unyielding.

"We'll be in Black Eagles before you know it bitch, "Kazooie whispered as Banjo walked inside, the bird flipping Hubert the middle talon unbeknownst to the other two.

The bird in the backpack wheeled around to see that a living room table had been set up with four steaming glasses of tea. Edelgard smiled unusually broadly at the pair.

"I thought we were watchin' footage?" Banjo blubbered, rubbing the back of his head confusedly.

A soft chuckle escaped Edelgard, "Hubert and I took the liberty of watching your footage, both Terry's fight against me, and your fight against Erdrick, we'll talk it over."

"On one hand, I really just wanted to watch TV," Kazooie reasoned, "But on the other hand, free bev!"

Edelgard's expression wavered, caught off guard momentarily by Kazooie's expression.

"Sure?" she offered.

Banjo sat down, gingerly passing Kazooie's teacup to her. Somehow, in the time it took him to do that, Hubert went from standing at the door to sitting beside Edelgard, teacup in hand.

"I've noticed that you two are quite graceful in small movements. You must have had quite a bit of practice."

"Oh shucks, thanks for noticin'" Banjo bashfully guffawed, "I've had Kazooie since she was a hatchling, 'we've been on so many adventures together."

"Ah yes, adventures," Hubert seethed, "Such as when you were grabbed out of Wonder Wing by one of Gruntilda's henchmen at Witchy World."

Kazooie choked on the sip of tea that suddenly jolted its way down her gullet, "Hey! How do you know about..."

"The orange-haired girl of the Phantom Thieves has taken quite a liking to Lady Edelgard," bemoaned Hubert, "Going so far as to call herself a 'simp' for her Highness."

Kazooie giggled, "Pot, meet kettle."

"My desires for Lady Edelgard are not sexual in the least. However, that is what her motivations seem to be."

"Oh shit," exclaimed Kazooie, "He didn't do the dumb fanfiction blush, he's serious."

"Right but uh…" Banjo interrupted, "What does that have to do with Futaba?"

"Right," Hubert nodded, sipping his tea, "Futaba has been yammering to Edelgard about the electronic amusements we all seem to originate from, and as such, I've been privy to some details others are not. What I mean to say is, what do you think Buster Wolf is?"

"A goddamn grab," Kazooie said, "And we thought we were boned when Rare went to Microsoft."

"Now now, there are some advantages," Edelgard consoled the bear and bird, "Despite Terry being in control of fire magic, and hitting harder than any brawler I've ever met, he yells out the name of his attacks, getting into each stance very theatrically."

"Ha! We're gonna play him like a Game Shark!" Kazooie hooted.

Edelgard's face twisted in worry as she sipped her tea.

"Well, yes, and be aware of the fact that Terry may try to grab you out of Wonder Wing.

"Thank ya for the concern Lady Edelgard, but we've been through far stranger than that."

Edelgard nodded, "I'm glad to hear it you two, I have no doubt you'll win."

"Well thank ya," Banjo nodded back, gulping down his tea, "Ya ready to go Kazooie?"

"Been ready since we got here," muttered Kazooie.

"Lady Edelgard's time and wisdom are a grace," Hubert hissed, crushing the delicate teacup in his hands, "And you will not make light, that is, if you wish to continue to live."

"Hubert!" barked Edelgard, "Kazooie Is simply not a social creature. Think of Bernie. Would you treat her in such a way?"

Now Hubert blushed, "Well…um…no…I…"

"HA! IT'S A FANFICTION NOW!"

Kazooie's outburst deflated the anger in both Adrestians, their expressions now ones of complete confusion.

"And we've scared the children. We're gonna get out of here. Thanks for the tea guys," Banjo sighed.

With that, bear and bird departed, Hubert and Edelgard only sharing a confused glance as Hubert wordlessly began to clean.

Meanwhile, in the residency hall, Banjo walked, face buried in his paws, "How we keep getting inducted into these groups is beyond me, especially the way you insult people Kazooie."

"I wouldn't need to insult people if everyone didn't treat us like idiots," Kazooie squawked back, "All I'm saying is, for Futaba leaking the secret to Wonder Wing, I hope they're having less fun than even we are!"

Joker

1600

"Persona" section of Smash City

Cafe Le Blanc

"And we're closed!" Ren announced as he flipped the sign on the wooden door.

As if it were a choreographed stunt, all the present Phantom Thieves, everyone minus Morgana and Futaba flopped into the nearest booth.

"Dude," wheezed Ryuji, "I never thought that rush was gonna end."

"I…concur," Yusuke muttered, drifting off to sleep.

"How'd Boss manage it," wondered Ann aloud, "Increasing his customer base a zillion percent and then scuttling off right as it got busy for some club?"

"Apparently," Haru, the least tired of the group, began, "It's been getting ad space on the audience tablets, something Mario threw in as a favor. I would suggest the Dad's Club invite is much the same."

"It was for putin' me to work actually," Futaba called from upstairs.

On cue, the Hermit trotted down the steps, laptop in hand, and Morgana somehow perched perfectly on the opposite shoulder despite being in his more cartoonish form, "The second he heard about me being part of the commentary team, that was his stipulation to allow it."

"Take notes Haru, your coffee shop is only gonna be successful if you're a carny like the old man."

"Perhaps I shall Ryuji," Haru snapped, indignant.

"Haru knows business acumen when she sees it, unlike you Ryuji," Morgana teased as Futaba set her laptop on the booth furthest away.

"Hey, don't make fun," countered Haru, "Ryuji really hustled when it mattered. Everyone did."

"Yeah," Ryuji teased, "Even Makoto when she could get her nose out of her communicator."

Makoto, as if driven by the universe to prove the man known as Skull's point, looked up, "For your information I'm…"

"Texting Akechi, we know you have a crush," Futaba stated bluntly, not looking up from her laptop as she typed away.

"Yeah, I guess cuz that's out in the open now, I have two questions. Why and why?"

"I've known him far longer than any of you. If he truly was as evil as you all seem to think, would he have informed us of what Wario's goons were up to?"

"Makoto is right," Ren said definitively, "Akechi might be a bit unhinged, but he's got a good heart. He had plenty of times to completely give in to whoever was pulling his strings, but didn't."

"I know I know," whined Ryuji, "Guy's just...hard to read you know."

Suddenly, a scratchy, base-boosted version of the Super Mario Brothers theme began to blare out of Futaba's laptop, who began to giggle.

"What?" Yusuke sleepy demanded, sitting up out of his nap.

Giggling even harder now, Futaba turned the laptop to the rest of the group. The picture showed Mario sitting atop a Nintendo 64 logo looking befuddled, holding a blank cartridge. Underneath the image, in a myriad of colors, the warning, "Piracy is illegal," was splayed.

"God, I knew Mario was a boomer, but not that bad," Futaba balked.

Ryuji's muffled giggles and his exclamation of, "Bro," caused giggles from the rest of the group.

"So the cams in the Thunder Ryu's Gym stage are beyond hackable?" Makoto confirmed.

Shutting down her laptop, Futaba nodded, "Yep. That's what I get for spendin' all day trying. No footage of Isabelle to study for you.

As the words left her mouth, the lights in Le Blanc clicked off, the sky seeming to darken. Surreal blue lights seemed to replace the normal bulbs through magic, and an operatic song began to play from nowhere.

"This again?" Ann shouted.

"No babe," Ren's completely unphased reassurance was barely heard over the music, "I think this is a good thing."

"Indeed it is," a new voice purred.

Suddenly, a booth that went unused was bathed in blue light. Sitting in the booth was an odd old man with a distinctive hooked nose, his frail form turned so that his bloodshot eyes bore into all of them.

"So it is decided," the man's words seemed to slither into the universe, "All selfish bastions have been cast aside?"

"Yes Master Igor," Morgana nodded, "I speak on behalf of everyone when I say we are understanding of Makoto's position."

Igor's sinister chuckle cut above the music and sent chills up the spine of everyone present.

"Excellent," he declared, "In light of this war's inevitable success, you will have the support of all the contracts in my possession when the time comes."

"Thank you, Master Igor, truly," Morgana stated.

"No, thank you Phantom Thieves of Heart. Our encounter last night had me worried for the state of this universe. However, I know now it is in good hands."

With that, the blue lights shut off along with the music, the lights returned to normal, and Igor disappeared.

"And to think," Morgana began, "You almost lost out on the full support of Igor over Makoto's crush."

Ren shrugged, "We've had each other's back through uncertainty, and much like with Isabelle, I'm confident I can face whatever unknown there is with you all by my side."

Murmurs of agreement echoed throughout La Blanc.

"Whelp," Ryuji stretched, "Whaddya say we all hit the town and celebrate?"

"Joker has a big match tomorrow," Makoto's declared in the most motherly tone she could muster, "Early to bed and early to rise."

Ren nodded, "Right."

"Since when were you such a killjoy?" Ryuji joked, earning him a death glare from the person sitting next to him, Haru.

"Hey, if I lose, you don't get any more money, we're all splitting the purse remember?"

"Oh, right,"

"God Ryuji, sometimes I'd think you'd forget to tie your own shoes without us," Ann teased, ruffling Ryuji's bleached blond hair.

"Hey shaddap!"

And with that, a laugh was shared. Joker stood up, "I'm going to tell Crow the good news."

Joker breathed in the remarkably clean, un-Shibuya letting a smile form as he keyed Akechi's communicator number.

Terry

Smash Mansion

Race to the Finish stage

1300

Terry Bogard observed the scene before him. The rusted metal race track sprawled out before him, Altair stood unwaveringly squatted on its edge. A layer below them, Corrin tapped her foot against the metal floor.

"Where the hell did you find this place?" Terry demanded, his voice equal parts humor and surprise.

"I found out about it when reviewing the old training logs, and I think it would be ideal for the training exercise I have in mind."

Terry raised an eyebrow at the assassin, "How so?"

"To beat Banjo and Kazooie, one must become familiar with projectiles. Therefore, the rules are simple. Bridge the gaps necessary and incapacitate your foes, the object being to get to the end of the course. Are you ready?"

"Okay!" Terry shouted.

Altair began to lob Light Shuriken at the Southtownian, easily dodging the obstacles by weaving to the left and right. Before he knew it, Altair was in range.

"POWAH-"

Altair parried it. Before Terry could blink, his wrist was firmly locked behind his back.

"Your moves are too predictable. Again," the assassin growled

As he was kicked in the rear and released from the hold, Terry mumbled, "You remind me of somebody. Real asshole that guy."

Altair was unphased as Terry shuffled back to start, "Focus your anger. Use it to determine why you failed. Go."

Much as he had before, Terry dodged the light shurikens, this time punching Altair in the gut as hard as he could. As the Iranian was mid-throw, he had no choice but to take the blow unguarded, doubling over. Grabbing his prone head and swinging it as he fell, as soon as Altair's neck hit the floor, he had lobbed himself onto the next platform down. A ball of water slowly drifted his way, Terry smirked as he parried it. He knew this all too well.

Terry was in range, but Corrin predicted it, her jaw clamping down as Terry punched through the water ball. But, he parried it.

"Rising Tackle!" Terry called.

The connection of feet to her jaw and the metal ceiling to her skull were enough to stun her, allowing Terry to move forward. Next, he stood in a passageway full of bumpers, diving through the open spaces, and going on to the next floor.

The lazily rolling barrels were easily overcome with simple jumps. As he jumped to the final floor, smoke enveloped him and a slice across the torso felled him, the dejected blond sinking to his knees. The smoke cleared, and there stood Subject Zero, nodding to the beat playing through his headphones, smiling down at Terry.

"And this is your ultimate training," Altair's voice boomed, "You tournament fighters are woefully underprepared for the unexpected. The teet of law and order is something you have suckled for far too long."

"Interesting imagery but yeah," Terry hissed through the pain.

"Again," Altair demanded

Terry looked up at the obstacle course before him, laughing and resting his hands behind his head, "Yes sir."

Jin Kazama, Jak, and Daxter

Smash Mansion

Cooper Gang Suite

1200

"EVERYONE!" announced Yoshimitsu with his signature role of the 'r', "I call this meeting of Playstation All-Stars to order.

Jin silently looked around the room. The chips, dip, and cola followed amongst the others. But he wasn't in the mood.

"The first order of business," rambled the nasally voiced turtle, Bently, "Jin, as we all know, your opponent is Sephiroth."

Jin shrugged.

"How can you be so flippant. He's a monster!" Murray's voice quivered.

"Because I have all the things he does. Power, speed, and flight. He's not a threat to me."

Bently snorted, cleaning off his glasses, "You won't be thinking so after the analysis the rest of the Cooper Gang ran."

The slow crawl of Charmy, Espio, and Vector's damage indicator played on the big screen. The damage crawling into the upper hundreds didn't phase Jin.

"And as I said over that ridiculous team dinner you insisted on having, I don't need your little girlfriend's mathematics or the panda's martial arts advice. I once fought a god of war and walked away."

"Kratos ain't a God of War, that's the name of his adventure!" shouted Daxter.

"Where is that mook anyway?" Sly wondered.

"Smashcraft R" Bently blurted matter of factly.

"Man, we gotta smuggle our way in," Sly licked his lips.

"Enough," Jin growled, "When you have information of relevance to give me, call me."

With that, Jin Kazama strode out of the room.

"God, he's so cool," squeaked Murray.

"For the record Sly," Yoshimitsu interjected, "The team dinner was wonderful."

"Yeah yeah!" agreed Daxter, "Tess, Kiera, Penelope, Jin's squeeze Xiaoyu, they all got along swimmingly. They're probably tearing up a shoppin' district somewhere as we speak."

"Well…um…anyway," Bently stammered, "Jak, Daxter, your opponent is Master Chief and-"

"Um, hello!" Daxter crowed, "Need I remind you of the little thing my man's got goin' on called Dark and Light Jak. I've seen 'im nearly level a city block in both forms!"

"Yes," Clank agreed, "Your power level far outclasses Master Chief, but his endurance is second to one."

"Uh…what was the old story?" wondered Murray, "That he flew a nuke into a ship or something?"

"That's exactly it Murray!" cheered Bently, "You don't do that and walk away."

"Not without training you don't," Jak agreed, finishing the last of his can of cola, "He's probably training his ass off to get ready for him, but no matter what."

"You'd better be," Ratchet snapped, "You and devil boy is the last remains of Playstation All-Stars in this tournament, and it'd be embarrassing if our ride ended here."

"Which is why we gotta party like there's no tomorrow," Daxter decreed.

With a round of cheers, the remaining members of the All-Stars drank and were merry long into the night, enjoying each other's company

Master Chief

Smash Mansion

Stage Room

0500

Isabelle scampered underneath him without thought, Incineroar followed behind, lightly checking him with his massive shoulder. As the odd duo disappeared into the expanse that was the Stage Room, he paid them no mind, the Battlefield stage was right before him. Just as he opened the door, he noticed Cuphead and Hayabusa skitter past.

"Mornin' Chief," Cuphead waved

Silence.

"So…um…I was gonna train with Joker, but he said he might have to help his old man run his shop today. I mean, luckily, Akechi's holed up in his room watchin' the boob tube, so me 'an Hayabusa are gonna hit up the old Icicle Mountain stage if we can find it."

Hayabusa nodded silently, but Master Chief stood unmoving.

"Have a good day alright? Don't work too hard!"

With a laugh, Cuphead skipped down the massive hall, Hayabusa following behind. Cortana's hologram appeared, hands disapprovingly placed on her hips

"Cuphead wanted to make a friend," she disappointedly tutted, "And you left him hanging."

"I'm not here to make friends, as I've said multiple times," Chief growled as he opened the door, Cortana floating dutifully behind.

"Yeah, but when are we ever going to be able to kick back and meet people again?" Cortana protested.

"There's a war on," snapped Chief as he began to tinker with the terminal in the center of the room.

"Haven't you ever heard of uneasy peace? We might as well enjoy it?"

No response came, Master Chief ignored the consoles nagging about activating Cruel Brawl, and the room transformed to the base of a waterfall.

3

2

1

GO!

The Alloys, six Captain Falcon clones, and a Kirby charged toward Chief. Easily taken care of reasoned the Spartan, smacking the floating ball with his Gravity Hammer, lining it up in the laser sight of his Spartan Laser as it flew, sniping it off stage. This was a mistake, as the remaining six Falcon Alloys proceeded to pound at his armor. Master Chief's mind briefly flashed back to being dogpiled by a similar number of Elites, and he was sure he was being hit harder now.

"Chief..." came Cortana's alert.

"I know!" barked Master Chief.

Trading in his Spartan Laser for two Plasma Rifles, Chief fired rapidly creating some distance by stunning five of the six other Alloys. The sixth managed to step away, only to be grabbed by the leg and hoofed into the others. A Kirby Alloy appeared, but Chief was ready for it, jetpack activating, checking the metallic blob, and throwing him onto the pile. A plasma grenade since the six oldest Alloys to the Blast Zone, while another Spartan Laser snip sent the relatively unscathed Kirby Alloy with them. A Zelda alloy appeared behind him. Without hesitation, Chief stabbed the Alloy through the chest, tossing her into the new crowd, three Captain Falcon Alloys, and three additional Zelda Alloys. A Rocket Launcher saw them all meet their untimely demise. The next seven Alloys appeared, a Captain Falcon alloy leading the charge. Master Chief felt the first few punches, a situation only exacerbated when a Kirby Alloy leaped off the Falcon Alloy's shoulders, pairing the punches with kicks in midair. In the chaos, a Zelda Alloy paralyzed Chief with some sort of magical electricity. The dogpiling was too much, even for the legendary Spartan.

"GAME!"

"Whelp, we didn't break the record, " shrugged Cortana, "Still, an impressive performance nonetheless! I say we've earned a day off, maybe some coconut rum from that Delfino place Wario mentioned before he left last night?"

Chief only grunted dismissively.

"I suppose we're running this back till we break the record, even if it takes all day aren't we?"

Master Chief nodded.

"Promise me we'll at least have some fun at some point," Cortana sighed.

"I'm not making any promises. The last time I did, I had to dance in front of everyone."

Cortana giggled, "Touche. I have a feeling you'll find some way to have fun, and it'll come naturally.

Her declaration was ignored, Chief already setting up the terminal for another round.

Vergil and Krystal

Smash Mansion

Stage Room

1845

Krystal strode confidently down the barren Stage Room hallway, a smug look on her maw. Everyone would be glued to the TV watching that stupid talk show. It would be just the two of them. The blue fox inwardly sushed her rapidly beating heart as she opened the door to the Corneria stage. Sitting in the middle of the room on a black throne, her back to her, Vergil chuckled, "Right on time. I expected nothing less."

Slowly, he stood, the throne disappearing into mist behind him. Typing in the proper commands, the room around them melded into the top of The Great Fox, the wind whistling as the carrier ship flew forth.

Vergil unsheathed Yamato, "Let's begin,"

Krystal nodded, unsheathing her staff.

Krystal charged, Vergil strode. The second she began to swing her blade, Vergil smirked.

"Mirage Blade," he called.

"Ice Blast!" Krystal cried.

The blasts of demonic energy became particularly jagged icicles as soon as they were formed, Krystal artfully scooping them into her free hand. Vergil's widening eyes of recognition made Krystal smile instinctually. She threw the blades, which Vergil blocked with his sword, but was left unguarded for a series of jabs to the stomach with the blunt end of her staff.

"Round Trip!" Vergil commanded mid-fall.

"Boost!" countered Krystal.

Up into the air, she went, descending with a warrior's cry. Vergil blocked the blow, holding Yamato over his head on its side, but his knees crumbled. On top of the clinch, Vergil cast away Cernian Staff and Yamato alike...
And they locked lips.
For the next several hours, Corneria remained occupied.

Quinn

Smash City

Television studio

Green Room

1900

Quinn huffed as he watched On the Hook interview Luigi from the green room of the TV studio. The squids had an informal, fluffy way of interviewing that seemed to put even the most nervous of guests at ease.

But the reality of the situation was that wouldn't be the interview he'd be subjected to, he just knew it.

Meditating through the majority of the show, he perked up when Marina inadvertently gave him his cue. "We have a special guest host for our next segment so it's time me and Peal bid you adieu," said Marina as the latest Off the Hook tune played.

Quinn sat his head in his hands. What could they possibly have in store for him? Why was he special? He was just a kid from Wuhu. What was so interesting about him compared to say, Luigi?

"Quinn Marmaduke, you're up," came the computerized voice of a Fighting Polygon Team member from beyond the door.

The platitudes of the non-automated workers he'd met on the way in fell on deaf ears. All that existed was the overly lit hallway and the door to the set.

A tech gestured him through. Quinn felt a jolt of cold go through him. Had he been meandering that long? Had he been walking for an entire commercial break?

He stepped through, into complete darkness. Seconds ticked by.

"And we're back on in 3…2…1.

The lights flared to life. Cheesy jazz music with an upbeat electric organ backing began to play, both illuminating the hell he was in. A talk show set had been erected. A leather couch stood at the center of the room. Behind that couch was an ominous giant replica of a familiar skeleton's face. Papyrus stood to the left of the skeleton structure, smiling in a way that sent a jolt of cold up Quinn's spine.

Oh no, Quinn internally bemoaned

"And now, the Sans Undertale show. And now, HERE'SSSSSSS SANS!" boomed the voice of Asgore.

Sans came out of the door on the other side of the stage, shooting finger guns at no one. Standing awkwardly for a few more seconds, the music cut.

"I'm Sans and welcome to the Sans Undertale Show. Traffic amirite?"

A laugh track played, Papyrus laughing along in an eerie echo.

"NYEHEHEHEHEHEH!"
"Anyway," Sans shrugged, "That's enough of that. My guest is my opponent for the next round, please welcome Quinn Marmaduke."

Quinn awkwardly shuffled onto the camera as the music played again, stopping just as he sat on the couch.

"Great to be here Sans," Quinn nodded.

"Ya know, I was thinking about it, and a Marmaduke is a breed of dog right?"

"Yeah, it is," blurted Quinn.

"Figured your parents woulda named you Quinn Chihuahua considering how anxious you are.

Beneath his sunglasses, Quinn rolled his eyes as a laugh track played
"NYEHHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEH!" howled Papyrus.

"No, but seriously folks," Sans began as the laugh track cut, "Let's talk about Quinn's Brawler School career. The guy lost as much as he won, but I guess the old adage is true, Cs do get degrees."

The laugh track played, Papyrus laughed, but Quinn could only smile.

"What, would you have rather fought Matt instead?"

"What?" Sans balked, "Not to use the lord's name in vain, but Toby no, Matt's a dick. I actually like you kid. Much like Rosalina does."

An 'ooooh' track played, Papyrus stood silent. Quinn frowned.

"Tell me. What's it like having a crush on a space goddess?"

The blood of Quinn Marmaduke ran cold at that moment.

"I um..." Quinn paused, "I like her a lot."

He shifted in his seat.

"She's very motherly to all her Lumas and it's pretty wholesome honestly."

"You prepared to wife up a goddess? Are you prepared to be a father to all those kids? I mean, school supplies am I right?" joked Sans.

Another laugh track, more Papyrus laughter.

"And look at ya," the skeleton continued, "I've seen you stress out in the cafeteria line. Can you do it?"

"Are you prepared to be a father to Frisk, or are you just bleeding the old goat dry?" snapped Quinn back.

The blue eye made its appearance, Quinn smiled as the laugh track played, Papyrus' eyes between the two, his stiff posture betraying discomfort.

"Now now, let's stop beating around the bush. The relevant question is, can you beat me?"

Quinn seethed as the laugh track played yet again.

"I think I can beat you," Sans taunted, "Why do I think that? Because you freak out at anything unpredictable, you have no fire. And I mean, it makes sense. Rosalina, for all her god powers, lost to a manlet in boxing gl-"

For Quinn Marmaduke, the world went white. When he came back to his senses, his right knuckles were broken, and Sans laid before him, sprawled out.

"Congratulations Quinn! You passed the test!" cheered Papyrus.

Victorious game show music played. Confetti fell from the ceiling.

"What?" blurted Quinn.

Sans was up now, sitting on his behind, rubbing a cracked cheek, "There's the fire I want kiddo. I want you to come at me angry and give me everything you got. I'm gonna bunk with Toriel tonight so I don't get in your way. See ya tomorrow Quinn!"

With that all-too-familiar pop, Sans disappeared. The intro to the show played.

"For Sans Undertale, I'm the Grrrreat Papyrus, thanks for tuning in, and have a wonderful night!" Papyrus waved.

Quinn could only stand there, jaw partially hung open in confusion as the show faded out.

.

.