WARNING: Graphic Depictions of Violence
Ch. 2: Bowser
One drop kick is all it takes but my aim and point of contact can't be more perfect. I catch him as he stands, feet-first crushing his chest, sending him airborne. On impulse he covers his head but doesn't take or have the time to realize another part is most vulnerable. He doesn't scream when his back cracks the piller, or when his body slides miserably down, and there's no delayed cry as he lies there, unmoving.
I stand and wipe my face again with the back of my claw, cuts and scrapes stinging from the overflowing heat inside me. My eyes burn with a rage I can't contain when staring at his dejected state.
"Get up!" I lash.
He wheezes softly.
"I've put you through a hell of a lot worse so it's really redundant when I order you to GET UP!"
He only moves when I do, shifting his arm to lift his torso from the ground. He drops himself on his side before his limb gives out, clutching his chest and fighting for air. Each breath is cut short, a grimace twisting his face every time he attempts to fully fill. He brings his legs closer to himself, shrinking in my silhouette.
"Get up," I growl.
He shakes his head, closing his eyes as he does so.
My foot presses on his chest the moment I kick him flat. He moans from already broken bones and cries when one intact suddenly snaps. I rock from my heel to my toes, feeling the pieces with my sole; it's like walking on gravel. Tears leak from the corners of his eyes as he tries in vain to force me off. My leg is too meaty to get a good grip.
Standing over him should feed my ego to the point of overindulgence, but I've never been more steamed, "You're pathetic." I bend to his eye level, putting most of my weight through my leg. "Unbelievable. Cruel. One rejection and you're a wreck? When you never had a relationship to begin with?! Are you trying to be funny?!" My whole hand closes over his mouth and around his neck, lifting him to shove against the pillar. More tears stream down his squished cheeks —from pain, suffocation, faux-sadness, or the stench of my sulfur breath. I don't know. I don't care— and wet my hand, "I've been rejected ten times over, a dozen, two dozen, I've stopped counting! If anyone should be a sad, sorry mess, it's me!" I spit, a fiery fleck landing beneath his eye. "You have no right!"
His color starts to shift from red to blue, and I let him pull my hand away. He inhales hungrily regardless of pain, hot, drivel-filled breath on my scales. Drained, broken, bloody, and dangling, but he manages to whimper, staring at me as he does so, "Y-You've never been more w-wrong."
I hurl him to the ground and inhale so fast a fleck of debris is sucked down my throat. It's incinerated in the collecting curl of flames before given the chance to trigger a gag reflex. The fire grows, swelling my stomach to the limit, shell creaking under the pressure. I plant my feet on the ground in front of my nemesis, building a strong base of support to exhale with extreme prejudice. He lies still, eyes closed, shoulders rising and stomach inflating briefly with each pained inhale. I always knew I'd get here but to think that rage would consume the feeling of triumph in this moment; I glare at him: You have to ruin everything for me, don't you?
On the verge of bursting, I prepare to fire.
"BOWSER!"
Hold.
"BOWSER, STOP!"
She stumbles as she runs, arms too tired to bolster the weight of her dress any longer. Her hair, once smooth, flies knotted behind. Eyes wild and leaking black tears. Dress stained. But still beautiful, in every meaning of the word.
Live flame licks my insides, eager to escape and I struggle to contain it, almost throwing them up.
"STOP! PLEASE!"
Peach dives and I step back, unable to extinguish the attack or hold it any longer. I fling my neck, puncturing myself with my collar, and send the inferno straight up. It scorches stone, charring it black, making the stench of burnt all too prominent, even for me.
Her soft gasps echo in the silent room. Weakly, she calls his name, bringing her trembling hands to his bloody face. When one slides down and grazes his abdomen, he flinches, and a fresh wave of sobs overtakes her. Her soft cheek touches his as she wraps her arms around his neck and hunches over, crying.
My eyes are stuck on sorrow. The feeling weighs on me, invades me, like an interloper trying to have some sort of hoedown in my body. Seeing her profusely weep, weep at all creates a tension in the air that's thick enough to make it difficult to move. Almost as if I shouldn't, but I do anyway.
My steps have never been louder but the princess carries on. I reach a hand out when I'm close enough, "Peaches–"
She straightens, revealing a tear soaked, make-up smeared face that she feebly dabs with her dirty skirt. Meeting her eyes is actually painful, and I thought staring at the scene was bad. "I'll give you whatever you ask," she cedes, taking a breath. "I'll be with you."
My brows raise.
"If," tears follow the path down her cheeks but she doesn't break. "You let Mario leave." Her breath hitches, turning back to him and sandwiching one of his hands between hers. "Let him go, and I'll stay with you."
"Forever?" I question, letting my satisfaction slip though.
She sniffles, "Forever."
It's as if my shell is full of helium. I could float around the room. Flip, twirl, dance, with her securely in my arms. Me, her, and Junior; one happy family.
Happy?
The word echoes in my mind and settles like a rock in my stomach, and I stand there, mouth parted, staring at the princess. Her dull eyes, soaked cheeks, and a frown so deep it could become permanent. Her lower lip quivering as she wholeheartedly stares at her hero. Memorizing what she can maybe before he's gone.
I shut my mouth and shake my head. Peach would never abandon her people. She's headstrong and protective, as a ruler should be. Which means the offer is as disingenuous as the bean freak Fawful. Which means I should call her bluff, end Mario, and force her to stay just as planned.
WRONG!
I raise my hands to my head at how loud my conscience gets, vehemently determining my conclusion to be false. Peach would never lie, not even to you. My face sharpens, I know Peach better than anyone, she would never desert her kingdom. She isn't thinking straight. Mairio's got her out of sorts. Crazy. Irrational.
She clasps his cap against her chest, running her free hand through his hair. It lingers to savor the strands brushing her bare fingers. When she brings her hand down again she cups his cheek, tearing up as she does so, and looks lost when she has to finally pull it away.
"Bowser." Her voice couldn't be more broken. "Please."
"You—" I clench my fists. "You—. You really—." Fire inside swells from a new feeling, and it burns. It actually burns. I swallow, "Get out."
She blinks at me, "W-What?"
"I said get out!"
She jumps, nearly dropping the cap in the process. I rummage through my shell, plucking out the remote to my koopa copter. It hovers at the window after a few moments, and I stomp over to let it inside. When it lands in front of Peach she stares at it then me, with wide eyes.
"Get in and get out," I order.
She looks at Mario, shaking her head.
Fire escapes me with a groan. I stomp back and pluck her figure from the ground as she thrashes. She pleads, she wails, louder than Junior when he's throwing a temper tantrum. After managing to place her in the copter she tries to flee, but freezes when she sees me holding her hero. He's a fragile doll in my massive hands, hands that are more than capable of finishing him off. A quick clench, a quick crack. Game over.
I lie him in the copter as carefully as I can. Peach stares at me, fresh tears in her eyes, they're contagious. "Get out, both of you," I growl, and send them off.
The copter shoots back through the window, carrying an airy, choked thank you on the wind that breaks me. I bellow, vomiting a blaze so big, so caustic it's painful. Every inhale summons flame without my consent, and the burn of it idling in my stomach forces me to shoot it out.
Kamek appears in an instant, "Your Fieryness! What happened?! Where's the prin—?"
"GET OUT! GET OUUUUUUUUUTT!"
He disappears in a small plume of smoke.
My head aches and the room spins from lack of air, but I drop in my throne and with a few deep breaths, fire settles and the world comes back into focus. I'm forced to savor my dry mouth in the silence, along with a heavy heartbeat I don't think I'll ever alleviate. The cost that comes with caring.
I realize some of the phrases/words above may be OOC for Bowser, but this round I wanted to use language that most accurately described what I was going for. Nevertheless, reviews are more than welcome. I'm always up for talking about my writing process so if you have any questions don't hesitate to ask. Follow/favorite as you wish.
Thank you for reading!