Once upon a time, there was once a land in between the division of space and time. It was a sequestered multiverse, divided from the rest of reality just as our own hearts are divided from one another.
One day, there was peace.
The next day, the realms of Flipside and Flopside were accosted by the purest evil, who desired to obliterate everything into naught but a black hole of chaos.
And yet, there is always a balance. For every shadow, there is the sun. For every death, a new life. And for every pure evil comes the truest of good. Even as disaster descended, four heroes were brought together to cleanse the unclean blemish from the surface of the world.
Thus, evil was destroyed and morality was restored. Upon every face, was a smile. Within every man's soul, a sense of righteousness. Together, as one, the people of the strange world lifted up their arms and rejoiced, giving thanks to the heavens.
Before anyone realized, a few months slipped by. A few months filled with peace and tranquility and the knowledge that never again would anyone have to suffer.
The air of The Overthere, Flopside's one and only coffee bar, was filled with the smoky haze of cigarette smoke and the bitter scent of burnt coffee beans and whiskey. Carson, the bartender, lazily wiped down a yellowed coffee cup with the greasy cloth clutched in his square hand. The bell above the entry door jingled and Carson sleepily raised his black dotted eyes.
"You again?" Carson muttered through his thick brown mustache with the slight twang of his accent. "The sixth time this week, and it's the third day. I understand the celebration spirit, but I have a concern for your health…hero."
Mario trudged forward, ignoring the admiring stares from the bar's patrons, his brown boots heavily thudding against the green tiled floor. "Is there a problem?" Mario leaned down against the bar, his white-gloved hand tapping an incessant rhythm. "No? Then get-a me a drink. And I don't mean a coffee."
"Hmph," Snorted Carson, turning back to the assorted collection of liquid debauchery behind him. "Someone put a squiglet in your eye?"
Mario flicked a cig from the pocket of his overalls along with a fire burst. He lit it and, with a sigh, closed his eyes and took a long drag. Cigarettes in this world were filled with the dried leaves of floro sapiens and filled one's brain with an addicting numbing sensation. It numbed his brain, giving him an escape from those memories, those buried truths, the ones he wished he had the freedom to forget…
Mario exhaled, a stream of purple smoke drifting from underneath his 'stache. He closed his eyes, already drifting away when there was a slight pressure on the cig in his hands. His eyes flashed open just as Princess Peach snatched it away.
"Give-a it back." Mario said, his words slurring.
Princess Peach threw it behind her back, her wide blue eyes flashing with frustration and concern. "No! I won't!" She huffed, "Mario, what's this about? Everything's fine now, we won. Is it…about Tippi?"
Mario flinched, his eyes opening a bit too wide.
Iridescent wings, distorted upon the ground. That voice, silenced for eternity. A million sparkles, slowly growing fainter and fainter into the endless void.
Bloodshed, that couldn't be revealed. Anger, that couldn't be released.
Those secrets and delusions, spiraling and spiraling, a curse upon his heart, a knife stabbing through his mind, growing stronger and stronger, the pain burning fiercer and fiercer…
"Mario!" Peach called out. Mario looked up to see Peach staring at him, her hand resting on his shoulder. He hadn't realized that he had crushed the whiskey glass in his hand, jagged pieces of glass stabbing through his white glass into his hand. "Mario…" Peach murmured, "She wouldn't want this…she was happy."
Mario's head fell, his hat casting a shadow over his face. His shoulders began to shake softly, as if he was being wrecked by an onslaught of tears. His head lifted, eyes covered by his uninjured hand, and Peach realized…
He wasn't crying. He was laughing.
Mario removed the hand from his eyes slowly. Then, he slammed his other fist onto the top of the counter, the force sending rivulets of blood streaming across the smooth surface. Peach flinched.
"You don't-a know a damn thing!" He screamed. Every face in the bar turned, their square mouths hanging agape.
"Mario, listen to me!" Peach forced him to pay attention, her delicate hand grasping his shoulder harder. "I do know! I talked to Merlon about it, and he actually connected to Eldstar…you remember him, right? He connected with him, and he said that he may be able to do something."
Mario stood up, turned away.
"And-a Bleck?"
"Him too."
Mario began to laugh again, a low sound with the thin needles of madness slowly threading their way throughout.
Peach slowly stood up, walking towards Mario. She hesitantly raised her hand, reaching towards his overall-clad back, so far away. "Mario…don't tell me…are you jealous? You have to let go, didn't you hear her last words?"
How could he forget? "Blumiere... Of course... I will always be with you…"
Peach continued, her voice quivering. "She's with the man she loves. You have to let her go."
Mario turned around, slamming his hand into the wall, trapping Peach in place. His eyes were bloodshot, his fist shaking with rage. Peach felt a flush of fear travel throughout her body. Was this the same Mario that had saved her countless times, that she trusted like her own brother, standing in front of her now?
"That's-a right," Mario hissed, his voice laced with venom, anger, and something darker, more hidden. "I'm-a jealous. So remember this, Princess." He tilted her chin upward lightly with a gloved finger. "Hate me. Despise me. Try your best to kill me for the sins I will commit, because I will have no remorse. Because in the end, it's-a me who will have the last laugh." Mario smiled. "Will you forget, Princess?"
"No." Peach breathed. And then Mario was gone, a figure dressed in blood-red clothes, passing through the bar doorway like a wraith of death.
Mario stood in front of the mirror in Merlon's house, his broad chest heaving with heavy breaths. Behind him, the room had become a maelstrom of gore and dark magic. Merlon's dead body, drained of blood. Bloody scrawled runes, copied from the Light Prognosticus, which now lay in ripped pages strewn across the floor.
Slowly, he removed the red cap from his head. There would be no need for the 'M' symbol in the unfolding time that lay ahead. He raised his hand and clenched his fist, shattering the mirror into a thousand shards. Splintered, like his soul. Mario picked up a razor-sharp shard and cleanly sliced his mustache off his upper lip.
It was a symbol of the man he used to be. A symbol he had no more need of.
Mario raised his arms, his eyes closing as he felt wind begin to rush through the room. The malevolent sigils glowed a sickening purple. They were light magic distorted, becoming something darker than anything in the Dark Prognosticus. His body seized, layers upon layers of darkness consuming his being, penetrating to the very core. White-hot pain surged throughout him, burning itself into his core. He threw his head back and laughed, a tortured screaming laugh of the deepest insanity.
He was no longer Mario. He had become consumed by desire and obsession, turning himself into an evil being fixated on a single goal.
Timpani.
For her, he would create a maelstrom of bloodshed. This was his final soliloquy, a testament to nihility.
"It's-a me." The man gasped, a curving smile growing on his face. "Lord Zekk."