Though the sudden blow had not been unanticipated, it still hurt, in more ways than one. Another wallop met its mark before he could recover from the first strike, and yet another after that. Iggy was still reeling in pain as an incredible weight was administered to his tail; it had been stomped on. His eyes burned with tears. Roy grinned devilishly as he delivered each punch, enjoying the moans that emitted from his younger brother each time his fist connected with another, previously un-bruised spot. A thin line of blood trickled down Iggy’s chin.
Ever since he could remember, Roy had picked on him. Whether it was toppling his tower of alphabet blocks, stealing his crayons, or flinging his food across the playpen, Iggy had always seemed to be the target of Roy’s aggression. As he got older, he grew, but so did Roy. The teasing had grown worse over the years, to the point where he’d sometimes come home with teeth missing. He hid this as well as he could, but Bowser had never really been particularly observant to begin with. He’d always assumed that Iggy’s bruises were the result of his getting clumsy.
But this, of course, was not the case. Oh, sure, Roy would get caught now and then, but he’d always be back from the dungeon sooner or later, this time with a nasty grudge to even out.
Presumably because of all this, though there were likely other factors as well, Iggy had never been very sure of himself. He never seemed to do any more than absolutely necessary, for fear that he’d mess things up. He just couldn’t do it, something in him told him this. Everything he did was either wrong, or not good enough, he told himself this without knowing it sometimes. Whether he understood it or not, he’d developed somewhat of an insecurity complex over time.
Iggy gasped as a well-aimed kick knocked the air out of him. He fell to his knees, gasping for air. It was astonishing that he was still standing, but what little pride he had left would not allow him to let himself fall. His vision was blurring, making him dizzy, but the already poor light allowed for little visibility as it was.
Roy, on the other hand, was enjoying every moment, barely allowing for any recovery time at all between each strike. A vicious uppercut actually propelled Iggy backwards, allowing for him to regain his footing, but just barely. He stood there shakily for a moment as he turned to face Roy, breathing in short, ragged breaths. Noting Roy’s surprised look, he took a deep breath and attempted to defend himself: a pitiful smack that could have been avoided by a Goomba. Roy took the hit, laughing as he easily pushed Iggy over, hard.
Roy kicked him again, this time in the stomach. Iggy lost it. He started to cry softly, cringing as Roy readied himself for another strike.
“Stop,” Iggy whimpered, clutching the ground feebly. He hated feeling so vulnerable. “Just leave me alone…”
But Roy wasn’t doing anything of the sort, and Iggy knew it. He knew the routine well. Roy would pummel him as far as he could go without fatally wounding him, and then leave him to sort things out on his own. Another kick left Iggy teetering over the rim of unconsciousness. And it wasn’t over yet.
He hated Roy, he realized suddenly. The realization was like a burden that had been lifted from his insides. He was sick of Roy. He didn’t want to be treated this way any longer. He wanted to hurt Roy, to pay him back for all the pain he’d caused him, for all the beatings and the humiliation he’d caused him. He wanted revenge.
His common sense, however, made him realize that he was never going to get it.
Roy paused, savouring the moment. He smirked again. Iggy cringed as he waited for the inevitable. But why? was the only thing his now-fading mind could grasp.
“Cease!” a new voice broke the silence. “Lay off, Roy.”
Roy froze more from surprise than embarrassment. Even Iggy summoned the will to lift his head upwards, ignoring the throbbing pain in his head. His glasses had cracked in multiple places, but by some miracle they had managed to stay on his face.
“Oh yeah?” Roy snarled, his surprise already having worn off. His voice dripped with arrogance. “I suppose yer gonna try an’ make me if I don’t, then?”
“Yeah,” said the voice, clearly another Koopa Kid. Iggy tried to place his voice, but everything was getting fuzzy... “I am.”
“Try again, Sherlock. For someone so smart, ya sure act dumb sometimes.” Roy pounded his fists together threateningly as he marched up to the second Koopaling.
Iggy had given up trying to watch; it took too much energy. As he rested his head back on the ground, he settled for listening to the conversation. But even that was becoming increasingly difficult. At least he had a good view of the floor. Yeah… that was it. The floor was good. It was even starting to feel comfortable, almost warm. What if…
He blacked out completely.
***
Black. Everything was black.
Was he blind? Did he even have his eyes open? Was he paralyzed? What was happening? Those and a million other questions raced through Iggy’s head. Aside from knowing that he couldn’t see anything, he was only dimly aware of what was going on. He could feel… something warm. His arms and legs were dangling at his sides, as if he was being carried. But, being carried by who? And to where?
A funny thumping noise reverberated through Iggy’s body. His heartbeat. It annoyed him. He wished it would stop, stop so he could hear what was going on. But he couldn’t hear anything else, let alone realize just what would happen if the thumping actually did stop.
Too many questions. It didn’t really matter anyway, he reasoned hazily.
He sank back into unconsciousness, what now seemed like merely a welcoming silence to the thumping noise.
***
Iggy awoke to the same feeling of warmth as he had during his last few moments of consciousness. For a moment, he almost thought the whole thing had been just a bad dream. That is, until he tried to stretch his arms.
“Yeaaaah!” he screeched as a jolt of pain sliced through his left arm.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” advised the voice from the previous night, the one he now recognized as Ludwig’s. “Your arm is injured, most likely broken.”
Iggy opened his eyes very suddenly, to find that he was not in his bed at all, but in some sort of cot that Ludwig had unfolded near his own bed. A sudden vision of his being some sort of experimental guinea pig prompted him to try to scramble from out of the covers, but another stab of pain in his right leg made him stop. He sank back down, suddenly grateful for the blankets’ warmth. He noticed for the first time that his arm had on it a sort of cast.
Realizing that his glasses were on the verge of falling off of his face entirely, he paused to fix them before looking upwards.
“Ludwig?” he asked, confused. “But… how did you, you know, make him stop?”
“I merely explained to him the mutual benefits that would transpire should he forget about beating you up entirely,” explained Ludwig. “After which he turned tail and ran from my intellect.”
“So, he punched you and left laughing?”
“That’s about it,” laughed Ludwig half-heartedly.
“Oh,” Iggy wasn’t sure what to think. Ludwig had never been especially nice to him before.
“Your leg is sprained as well, but the rest of your injuries are all bruises,” Ludwig explained. “You’ll probably want to rest up for a few days,”
“Yeah, I think I’ll do that.”
“I could transport you back to your room if you like,” his brother suggested. “The cot has wheels.”
No, was Iggy’s immediate reaction. To be outside of the room meant being in the long castle hallways, where there was a possibility he could run into Roy again. Even in this state, he wasn’t entirely sure that Roy would hesitate to pummel him again. The very thought left him shaking violently.
He tried to answer, but found he could only manage a sort of broken whisper. Ludwig got the message.
“All right, you don’t have to go anywhere just yet,” he said quickly. “You don’t have to worry about Roy either, at least for a while.”
Iggy felt a sudden rush of gratitude towards his brother. His next three words summed up his feelings quite nicely: “Er… thanks, Ludwig.”
Ludwig merely nodded as he backed himself towards the door. “Just call me if you need anything,”
“Oh, and Ludwig?”
“Yes?”
“Please don’t let anyone know I’m in here. I don’t want Roy to find out.”
“Of course,” Ludwig answered, smiling apologetically as he left the room.
Iggy sighed, snuggling up against the blankets. At least Roy wasn’t there. He just couldn’t understand why Roy hated him so much. What did I ever do to him? he wondered. He thought this over for a while. Maybe he’d done something a long time ago that he’d forgotten, but Roy hadn’t? Maybe… but he sure couldn’t think of anything.
Stupid Roy. Iggy’s hand slowly contracted into a fist.
Iggy was already asleep when Ludwig returned, bringing with him something to eat. His glasses were on the table beside him, their lenses cracked in too many places to count. Ludwig sighed, setting the tray beside the glasses. He picked them up and examined them carefully.
He seemed to have thought of something, for he quickly left the room, making sure to close the door quietly behind him.
***
Iggy woke up late the next morning to a rather blurry room. He fumbled around for his glasses, only to end up groaning in frustration.
“Great. Just great,” he said to himself angrily. “Now my glasses are gone. This is the last thing I need.”
He tried to get out of the cot, but found his arm gave him too much grief to hoist himself up. Not particularly feeling that he wanted to roll out onto the floor, he decided to go back to sleep. He’d ask Ludwig when he woke up.
He didn’t have to wait that long, however. He heard the sound of the door opening almost as soon as he shut his eyes again. He opened them immediately, rolling over to see Ludwig close the door again.
“Hey, have you seen my-” He was stopped short as Ludwig handed him his glasses, looking as new and un-cracked as ever.
“These?” asked Ludwig.
“…Yeah.” Iggy put his glasses on, and the room returned to focus. “That’s better.”
“So…” Ludwig seemed to be at a loss for words. He wasn’t the greatest at starting conversations. “Are you feeling improved any?”
“Yeah, I guess so,” Iggy’s voice was fairly quiet. His mind was wandering to other things, other people he didn’t want to think about.
“Something wrong?” Ludwig inquired, obviously guessing that something was.
Iggy nodded slightly, suddenly looking away. He clenched his fists angrily.
“You want to talk about it?”
Iggy’s rolling over in the cot was the only response he got this time.
“It’s Roy, isn’t it?” said Ludwig gently.
There was no response at all this time. Ludwig couldn’t see it, but Iggy had to bite his lip to keep himself from crying again.
“You realize that he’s never going to cease, certainly not the way you’re going about it.” Sometimes, it seemed that his brothers and sisters were the only ones who noticed what Roy was doing at all.
“But… what can I do?” Iggy asked, turning back around so he could face Ludwig.
“Reveal Roy’s actions to King Dad! He’s a reasonable father… when he wants to be.”
“But that’s just it,” said Iggy disheartedly. “He’ll never listen. Roy will just call me a liar.”
“Well…” Ludwig thought for moment, sitting down on a nearby chair. “Have you ever considered retaliation?”
“Well, yeah, sure… But I couldn’t beat up a Troopa.” Iggy stopped. He sniffled a little.
“Perhaps what you need is a different approach,” suggested Ludwig.
“Yeah?” Iggy was paying more attention now.
“Instead of defeating him physically, maybe you should attempt to do it mentally.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? Break him with mind games?” Iggy was confused.
“No, no,” Ludwig said quickly. “That’s not what I meant at all. But mind over matter would be a good concept in your situation, perhaps.”
Iggy thought this over.
“Well… you’re sure it would work? Roy would really leave me alone?”
“Once we’re finished with him, he won’t want to be within a five mile radius of you, let alone consider harming you.”
A sort of crooked grin appeared on Iggy’s face, soon transforming itself into a cruel smile. Revenge. It was a word that had been on his mind for some time now.
It sounded good.
They discussed their course of action for a few minutes. Ludwig explained his idea to Iggy, who agreed to everything with a readiness that surprised even him.
Their plan almost ready, Ludwig left the room to get some of the needed supplies. He peered out cautiously before slipping out from behind the door, glancing over his shoulders nervously every now and then as he continued down the hallway.
However, he seemed unaware of the dark figure, hidden in the safety of the shadows as Ludwig returned shortly after, carrying a large box of assorted objects. The figure watched him closely as he struggled to open the door with his cargo. After trying a few times to reach the doorknob, he finally had to set it down and drag it through the door. He slid inside and shut the door tightly. A soft click told the mysterious individual that it had been locked. What is that kid up to?
***
“So, explain it to me again. Exactly why do we need this… this junk?” Iggy asked again, picking over some of the stuff that Ludwig had brought back.
“Well… we don’t necessarily require the use of everything here. I may have acquired a few commodities too many, under the premise that I would find a use for them at a later time.”
“Well, maybe, but how are you going to find a use for an old toothbrush?”
“You’d be surprised at just how many different household items can replace select inside pieces of a refrigerator,” Ludwig shrugged.
Iggy made a face. He decided not to ask what the broken crayons and pencils in the bottom of the box were for. “So… tell me the plan again.”
“All right, but this is the FINAL time…” Ludwig sighed, having already explained at least three times. “Roy is, simply put, a bully. He enjoys partaking in the thrashing of you and others, you in particular. One such as this thrives on fear, and pain. He enjoys causing either; it builds his confidence. Perhaps if we were able to turn the tables and give him a taste of his own medicine-”
“But, we can’t just beat him up,” Iggy interjected. “He’s far too strong. And, as much as I hate to admit it… he’s not stupid, either. He’s got smarts to back up those muscles.”
“If you’d have let me finish, you’d have had that question answered,” Ludwig sighed. “Perhaps I could construct a machine that would allow us to show Roy what he’s inflicted upon you, show him fear, pain, regret. All of this without any physical consequences- a virtual reality program of sorts.”
“So, we’d be toying with his emotions, then?”
“Sort of. It’s more complex than that. If I am able to create this machine- with your help of course- at all, it will take some time. As for the way it would work… well, I’m not totally sure, but if it works the way I intend it to, Roy would feel everything, but he’d be physically untouched. He’d be far less sure of himself, quite possibly to the point where he’d cease to bother you at all for a long time afterwards.”
“Then… there are no guaranteed results.”
“Nothing hypothetical is ever guaranteed,” Ludwig answered simply.
***
As soon as everything was ready, they set to work. Well, at least Ludwig did. Iggy didn’t know much about mechanics, so there wasn’t a whole lot more he could do than ask questions, or hand something to Ludwig when it was needed.
Ludwig worked late into the night. Iggy stayed awake for as long as he could, but eventually fell asleep on the cot due to a mixture of tiredness and boredom. Watching his older brother tinker with machine parts and random household items wasn’t exactly riveting. Ludwig didn’t mind. He was used to working alone; preferred it, if anything.
When Iggy awoke he almost wondered whether he’d been asleep at all. Ludwig was still in the same place he’d been before: in the corner of the room, bent over the tool bench. A sudden “AHA!” from Ludwig made him jump.
“W- what is it, Ludwig?”
Now it was Ludwig’s turn to be surprised. He jumped a little also, turning around. Noticing Iggy, his surprised expression quickly shifted to a triumphant grin. “You’re awake,” he noted, still grinning.
“Well, duh,” Iggy rolled his eyes. “What’s all the excitement about?”
“I’ve done it,” Ludwig grinned. He carefully lifted what looked like a helmet of sorts off the bench and held it out for Iggy to see.
Iggy eyed it dubiously. “I don’t see how a construction helmet with a bunch of buttons slapped on it is going to help u-”
“What? A mere construction helmet?” Ludwig looked almost hurt. “This marvellous little device, if I am not very much mistaken, could very well be the answer to the Roy problem. As a prototype, it may still have a few minor glitches, but I will resolve them as time allows.”
“That’s all good, Ludwig, but… what’s it actually do?”
“Simply put, it taps into the wearer’s consciousness. It can be set to record everything the wearer perceives- sight, sound, taste, touch, and smell- and stores it in here as a form of concentrated energy.” Here he indicated a small black patch on the helmet’s side that could have been passed off as a solar panel.
“I don’t get it… How’s this going to help, if all it can do is record?”
“Ah, but that’s the beauty of it. Just as it can record senses, it can also be set to play them back… like a video, but on a larger scale.”
***
“I still don’t see why I have to be the one for this job,” the voice’s western accent was obvious.
“Because no one else is around to do it, that’s why,” someone answered. It was a male voice, like the first, but sounded younger.
“I’m no spy. You know that,” the first voice grumbled. “You can hunt yer own wild geese.”
“If I can get a hold of this… this thing… it may not be such a wild goose chase.” The second voice sighed.
To Be Continued...
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