"And y'know, we never did find that neck pillow. Or the shampoo, now that I think about it."

Laughter echoed across the courtyard, carried on the wind through the grounds. The day was cold, but not cold enough to keep passersby indoors. And, evidently, not cold enough for Isaac and his entourage.

"You know," said Spring Man, once his laughter had faded, "I never would have taken you to be a practical joker, man."

"Yeah, what happened to you?" Phosphora sat up. "You're so mellow and… boring now."

Isaac blinked, clearly taken aback. "B-boring?"

"Well, I mean—!" Phosphora gave a half-shrug. "You're just so… tame and placid."

Isaac wheezed, a sound like bagpipes being shoved into a hydraulic press. "Did you just call me flaccid?!"

"No, placid! Like, like a cow!"

"That's worse, somehow!"

"Hey, hey, come on now," cut in Spring Man. "Sometimes, it's good to be calm and mild and stuff."

Isaac nodded in deep, farcical gratitude. "Thanks, Spring Man," he said loudly. From behind, Phosphora stuck her tongue out at him.

"And reasonable," continued Spring Man, "and normal, and simple, and ordinary."

The Adept flushed a bit. "Okay."

"And plain, and humdrum, and mundane…" Spring Man counted on his fingers.

"Okay, yeah, we get it," said Isaac. Phosphora stifled a snort.

"And cut-and-dry, and unobjectionable, and aggressively neutral—"

"I get it." intervened Isaac, putting an end to any more synonyms. By now, Phosphora was trying and failing to stifle her giggles.

"Oh, good," said Spring Man with a grin. "I was running out of words." He tossed a thesaurus on his person aside.

Isaac flopped back down onto the grass with a sigh. "Yeah, well… would you believe me if I said I wasn't the biggest prankster around back then?"

"Really?" said Phosphora. "Who was, then?"

"Was it that Jill girl?" asked Spring Man.

"Nah, nah, it was…" Isaac cleared his throat. He paused, both out of a sense of breaching some unspoken agreement, and knowing how his friends would react to the name. "It was… it was Waluigi, actually."

"Oh," came Spring Man's voice. The silence that Isaac had been dreading fell. Clearly, the topic of Waluigi was still fairly sensitive.

By now, the lanky man's stunt at the gala had all but faded into memory. His more recent, more public scuffle and falling-out with his partner (or was that his brother? Isaac wasn't sure) Wario, however, was still fresh in everyone's mind. Subsequently, everyone had seemingly silently agreed to not speak about it. Furthermore, Waluigi had taken the hint and done a disappearing act; very few had heard from him since.

Let him stay in time-out, Dr. Wright had said, and he can come out and apologize when he's good and ready. Midna had offered her own comments, but none of them seemed appropriate to reiterate aloud, or even within the text of this very narrative.

And yet, Isaac couldn't help but wonder.

"So," he began haltingly. "What… what do you think happened to him?"

Phosphora shrugged after a moment. "Beats me. Hiding in his room. Moping. Whining. Feeling sorry for himself? Who cares? I say good riddance."

"Phos."

"Hey, can you blame me?" Phosphora sat up to shoot Isaac a look. "Aren't things so much more peaceful when he's out of our hair?"

Isaac turned his gaze toward the grass. He had to admit that Phosphora was right. Outside of that mailing thing going missing, things had been relatively peaceful since that day. He could chalk it up to the general vibe of the tournament settling down after Sora joined, but that felt like… something different.

"I dunno," he sighed at last. He didn't know why he asked, or why he felt so worried about him. Maybe it was Starfy rubbing off on him. Or maybe it was one of those spiritual bonds he'd heard the others talk about. Bomberman had given himself and Simon Belmont as an example of such a bond, but Isaac had remained skeptical. "He's never been this quiet for this long. Just got a bad feeling about it, that's all."

"…Well," said Phosphora. "whatever he's up to, hopefully it won't blow up in our faces this time."

"Or his," put in Spring Man.

"Yeah," murmured Isaac. "Yeah."

The clouds drifted lazily by.

Little did any of the assistants know, only one of Phosphora's theories had truly hit the mark. Waluigi had indeed spent most of his time hiding in his room, as it were. But he hadn't been moping, he hadn't been whining, and he certainly hadn't been languishing about feeling sorry for himself.

His quarrel with Wario (and subsequent schism, it should be noted—Waluigi hadn't spoken to him in weeks) had been just what he needed, in his eyes. Every misfortune, every headache, every single failure he'd ever suffered could be traced back to him, on some level. And having the nerve to never invite him to that video game company he owned! Why, if it wasn't for him, he'd probably—no, he'd definitely be sitting pretty, with all the fame and the attention and the fancy complimentary vases!

To that end, Waluigi had given his so-called partner the cold shoulder. He had deleted him from his contacts, and a photo of the greedy thug (with that horrible biker outfit and all its clashing colors) now graced his dartboard. That same day, Luigi's photo had lost its spot on the dartboard, and now graced the bottom of his wastebasket.

Once his hands had been sufficiently washed, it was time to properly strike out on his own. But the only problem there was that starting a new venture needed cash. And he was, at the time, flat broke.

How lucky for Waluigi, then, that he'd found that space birdbrain's credit card just lying around out in the open, in his unattended jacket pocket. But he had to be quick. Who knew how long it would take before the bird found out and cancelled it? Waluigi took to a place where none would dare tread without proper protection, a wild web where keeping your wits about you was of utmost importance, lest you lose your life or more: the online shopping scene.

The amiibo craze, Waluigi had noticed, had slowed down to a near-crawl. But leave it to him to revitalize the trade with some good old-fashioned artificial scarcity!

Buying up amiibos of Luigi by the truckload was, predictably, revolting to Waluigi at first. To make matters worse, once the stock had finally arrived, he hadn't been able to send or receive mail for a couple of weeks, for some reason. Staring at boxes of that sage-colored sap for days on end made him feel physically ill. He'd had to remind himself that business was about making sacrifices. And hey, the less people had merchandise of that beanpole, the better.

But once the shipments started going out, and the money started rolling in (price gouging would be too kind a word for the coinage he was asking), it all started to feel like it was worth it. Slowly, his room space started clearing up. Slowly, the numbers on his account balance started rising. Slowly, his dreams, his aspirations, started to take shape.

It was all falling into place. Now it was time for him to take his rightful place in the spotlight. It was time for him to make a name for himself, free from the shadow of that greedy meathead.

Soon it would be Waluigi time.

…Ah, but there was still one more step. Right now, it was time for that meeting.

Hunched over his laptop, Waluigi opened the Goomble Meet application. It was almost three o'clock, and his prospective employees would be there any second!

Once the app opened, he noticed the virtual room he'd set up already had a handful of people waiting. Good, they'd taken him up on his offer. He'd had to dig pretty deep to find anyone willing to work with him on this idea. Mostly because the people in his contacts that were actually from his world were… few and far between.

Waluigi scanned the list of people waiting. Kate was there, as were Clay, and Harry, and two of the Costellos. He frowned as he noticed the absence of that demolition expert. He'd gone to great lengths to track him down after finding out that those lousy Mario brothers used to work for him, and he couldn't even send back a rejection email? Guy hit the big time once and suddenly didn't have time for the little people, eh? Whatever. His loss.

…Who was ST-2005? Well, he was about to find out. The meeting was about to start.

He clicked onto the meeting room, where his soon-to-be staff were idling around. Harry was chatting with Kate (Waluigi eyed his goatee, the inferior form of facial hair), but both of them sat up straighter when they noticed Waluigi's presence. A. Coz and B. Coz, the Costello brothers (who liked to shorten their last names for some reason), were bickering between themselves, only for the older to silence the latter and point as his screen. Clay, a boy in a yellow shirt with blue sleeves, was casually tossing a tennis ball against an offscreen wall. Once he noticed Waluigi's arrival, he immediately stood at attention, the tennis ball bouncing off and knocking him on the side of his head.

In the corner of Waluigi's screen, a robot with a single large red eye and two tubes extending from the bottom to the sides of its head stared blankly ahead. Waluigi immediately recognized it as one of his robotic opponents from the first soccer tournament he'd gone to. What were they called again? The Super Team?

The robot continued to stare straight ahead. Clearly, it was just as good a conversationalist as it was last time they'd met.

Waluigi resisted the urge to roll his eyes. This was a crucial step. It was showtime.

"Good day, everyone," he began in his best professional-sounding voice, which ended up sounding like a reedier, more evil Squidward. "Welcome… to the future."

"Yeah, I got a question," said B. Coz, raising a meaty hand.

Waluigi frowned at the interruption. "Yes?" he sighed.

"This isn't a pyramid scheme, is it?"

It took more self-control than Waluigi had ever had in his life to not roll his eyes at that one. "No, it's not a pyramid scheme. It's-a the future! The future… of mobile software!"

Waluigi switched his camera to screen-share mode, and brought up the first slide of a presentation he'd spent no less than one hundred and sixty-eight hours on.

"Welcome… to WaluigiWorks!"

The room was silent for a moment. Waluigi basked in their speechless wonder.

Clay blinked. "…Wait, aren't you that guy from the Royal Tennis Academy?"

"Well… not exactly," replied Waluigi, twirling his mustache. "But I'm glad people are cultured enough to recognize me! But as I was saying… The future of mobile software is with WaluigiWorks! We—"

A sharp ringing from his laptop cut off his sales pitch. Waluigi blinked in surprise, his eyes falling on the bottom left corner of his screen. Someone new was trying to join the room. He squinted at the notification, which read:

VerdantVintage has entered the Waiting Room for this meeting.

Admit

See Waiting Room

Waluigi's brow lowered. Odd. He didn't recall seeing that name on his contact list. Well, no harm done in seeing who it was. He clicked on the word Admit and waited.

"Excuse me?" came a voice. Whoever this was, their camera wasn't working. "Is this that 'exciting business opportunity' I've heard about?"

"Waah?" Waluigi cocked an eyebrow. "Who are you?"

"I, uh…" The newcomer seemed guarded and reluctant to speak. Not that it helped their case; there were so many voice filters in effect when they did speak that it was nearly impossible to tell who it was. And what kind of username was 'VerdantVintage', anyways?

Waluigi narrowed his eyes. This was getting more suspicious by the second. And he would know, for he prided himself on being as sneaky and devious as he could be. Best to flush out any possible subterfuge before it could take root.

"Who are you?" Waluigi repeated. "You're not with Wario, are you?"

"Wario?" spoke the voice. Even through the filters, the speaker's disgust was palpable. "Oh, goodness, no. I had the… misfortune of meeting him once. If I never see him again, it would be far too soon."

Yeah, don't I know it, thought Waluigi. Whoever this VerdantVintage person was, they could stay. They had far better taste than most people he'd met. "Well, alright then. But as I was saying… my new company, WaluigiWorks, is the future of mobile software! Bringing proper, full gameplay back into the mainstream!"

Waluigi switched to the next slide. "I imagine you're wondering what that might mean. I am happy to explain!" The next slide appeared, displaying a purple stick man in a hat, surrounded on all sides by small, purple handheld devices. "For too long, this industry has been flooded with games that can only be described as 'disposable'—repetitive, one-trick pony games, made cheaply with the bare minimum of gameplay, under the veneer of 'simplicity' and 'replayability'. More commonly, they're known as…"

Another slide, this time of a man in a biker outfit, cast almost entirely in shadow, save for his jagged black mustache, looming over the same purple devices.

"Microgames."

Harry sat up straighter in his chair. "Hey isn't that Wario? From, like, that golf tournament?"

"No comment," said Waluigi hastily. "Microgames, much like gacha games and microtransactions, are a miasma on the gaming landscape—a plague that rots the industry down to the rind. That, my future workers, is what WaluigiWorks aims to bring an end to. Fresh, innovative gameplay that extends beyond a singular input! A full game being sold to the consumer for a one-time purchase! This is the future that WaluigiWorks aspires to accomplish! To bring the corruption of gaming studios to an end!"

And, seethed Waluigi under his sales-pitch smirk, to bring WarioWare and that greedy numbskull in charge to its knees. Then he would see. They'd all see. Revenge was just a side dish, in the big picture of his grand scheme… but at the same time, it was the icing on the cake.

"This," declared Waluigi, "is the future that only we—only WaluigiWorks—can bring. So, what do you say? Who's-a with me?"

Silence fell. The soon-to-be staff looked… nervous. Even VerdantVintage seemed quieter than usual. Waluigi felt himself tense up. If someone didn't say something soon…

Slowly, timidly, Clay raised his hand.

"Yes?" asked Waluigi, privately relieved that someone was still on board.

"I, uh…" Clay scratched at his cheek. "I have no idea how to make games."

"Yeah, me neither," put in Harry.

Kate shrugged. "I screwed around with Java for a bit, but yeah, neither do I."

"I think the robot might know," said VerdantVintage.

On Waluigi's screen, the Super Team robot—or, rather, ST-2005—shrugged.

An undeterred Waluigi steepled his hands. "Not a problem! I've done more with less!" It was technically the truth; he'd once constructed a giant mechanical version of himself with nothing but some scrap metal he'd found in a junkyard. "Anyways, on-the-job training will be available on day one!" He smiled, which came off as less 'gracious and genial' and more 'pleading and definitely-not-a-con-artist'. "So, what do you say?"

After a moment, B. Coz spoke up. "Well, I will say, this sure beats the astrology thing."

"Oh, for the lovva—" A. Coz threw up his hands. "Would you let that go?"

B. Coz rolled his eyes. "I never understood why you bought into that stuff. Just a bunch of baloney, is what it is."

"It's a perfectly legitimate system. There's actual results to prove it—"

"Unscientific results—"

"Literally false because the stars literally affect our personalities."

"More like literally no correlation."

"See that? See that right there? Most well-adjusted Gemini behavior."

"Now you listen here—"

"As fascinating as a conversation that is," cut in Harry, "sign me up for this… WaluigiWorks thing."

Kate nodded. "Yeah, I'm in, too."

Clay, who had been a little distracted by the Costellos' quarreling, snapped to attention. "Oh, uh, yeah, me too."

The Costello brothers, who had been more than a little distracted by their quarreling, pulled themselves together. "Uh, yeah, sure."

"Well, I've got nothing better to do."

Behind the filters, VerdantVintage's voice was steady. "Yes, let's do it!" ST-2005 gave a thumbs-up, for that was all it could do.

"Excellent!" Waluigi steepled his fingers again. "I already have your contact information, so sending out the paperwork should be a piece of cake!" His eyes flicked across the screen, taking in the expressions of hope, of steely resolve, possibly of adoration. "I trust everyone's okay with working remote?"

On the screen, the new employees shifted and nodded their assent.

"Then that should do it!" Waluigi clapped his hands with an air of finality. "Congratulations! You're now officially part of the future of gaming! The onboarding kits should be coming in over the next couple of days. Good luck, my happy little workers! To a better future!"

One by one, the screen blinked out, like stars in the sunrise. The gray silhouette of VerdantVintage's lack of profile image was the last to linger before vanishing, leaving behind a black screen and the reflection of a man who believed in the bright future ahead of him.

Waluigi leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. "Waah," he whispered to himself. Outside, the sounds of birds squabbling rang out above the wind.

The meeting had gone… well. Surprisingly well, if he was being honest with himself. Like he had said, he had indeed done more with less. And the people he'd assembled seemed like a promising bunch. Especially that VerdantVintage person; they had a good head on their shoulders, whoever they were.

Speaking of other people… Waluigi's mind turned to that star kid who looked up to Wario for whatever reason. He had considered including him in this scheme, him and the little witch girl, Ashley, but had decided against it. Better to keep things in-house, as it were. But who knows? Maybe down the line, once WaluigiWorks was big enough, he could bring them into the fold. And hey, anything that blew a hole in WarioWare was a plus!

(And, came another thought, perhaps Daisy could be put on his payroll, once she saw who was the real superstar. Spite two birds with one stone!)

But Waluigi would need to run a tight ship if he was going to sink Wario. If everything went according to plan, then he'd finally have it all. All the glory, all the money, all the adoration that he so utterly deserved…! It was so close, he could almost touch it. Heck, maybe one day, he'd be an official Smash Bros. tournament sponsor!

Waluigi let the smirk he'd suppressed overtake his visage. The path forward was clear, and he had every confidence that he would not only succeed, but properly flourish, freed from the shadow of that greedy oaf.

The future had never been brighter, and it was practically in the palm of his hand. It was time to seize it.

Author's Notes: Oh, hey, Waluigi, we thought you were depressed.

This chapter ended up really topical, huh? Hopefully, Waluigi won't charge eighty bucks for a single game! (He totally would.)

What will happen with WaluigiWorks? Will this new company succeed, or will it crash and burn? Will Falco ever find his credit card? Only time will tell...