Prologue: The Beginning of the End
The gales howled as the daggers of snow
and ice chaotically whirled about. Shimmers of aurora illuminated the haunting
sky, the northern lights reflecting off the icy surface of the cavernous
region known as Proarctica. A beckoning catacomb in the immense snow paradise
called with a darkly breath. Protruding forth from either side of the opening
were demonic goat skulls that were carved out of the prehistoric ice.
Passing beyond the guardians’ gaze,
the cavern twisted and warped itself in the loathsome darkness. The chilling
air nipped away at one’s soul as the darkness blinded them from any sight.
Fingernail carvings were found all along the walls of the shadowed labyrinth,
signs of a maddening life getting lost in the dungeon. Further down the
corridor the walls began to coat with a black sludge. The smell was invasive.
Soon the pathway was waist-deep with the cold, yet unfrozen sludge. Eventually,
the cave was drowned in the substance and the only way to progress was
to attempt swimming through the dense muck. Through many maddening moves
and turns could one find an escape from the ecliptic essence, and discover
an expansive chamber lit by red pyres.
The violent torches revealed black tentacles of the sludge with a semi-solid membrane slithering out from the liquid and towards the center of the room, where a haunting altar rested. The altar had stalactites of snow warped and twisted around the circular rise in the floor. The tentacles came together here in a frozen chaos, with visible blackness hidden within the mass of ice that sat in the center of the shrine. It was apparent that something very foul stemmed forth from that solidified obtrusion. The tentacles of sludge escaping the snow were trapped against the icy floor, but their length snaked all along the room and through other various orifices in the room.
At the front of the altar stood a dark, hooded figure, his faced masked in shadow. In his grasp was a sword of ghastly appearance, with sharp edges spiking out along the blade. The hilt of the saber bore a dark heart-shaped emblem with a crown of three needles. Ceremoniously, the figure thrust the sword into a tendril of darkness. A jolt of dark electricity veined through the blade and into the figure, causing him to reel back in pain. Red lightning sparked through the tentacle and eventually to the black mass frozen in the altar. The red torches erupted with light as an unworldly roar echoed in the cavern. The figure silently knelt before the altar as chunks of the ceiling and walls crashed all around him. As the bellow subsided, the torches regained their original red glow.
“Master,” the hooded figure spoke.
Piercingly red eyes opened from within the frozen chaos. Words spoken in a tongue so vile and frightening came from every direction. The fire of the torches flickered with the emphasis of the haunting language.
“But what of the descendant?”
The devilish essence spoke a second time, slithers of the spine-melting voice rising through cracks in the icy walls. The torches grew dim as the red eyes half-closed.
“I understand. It will be done.”
The demonic eyes closed and the red electricity coursing through the black tendrils dissipated. With a great heave, the figure lifted the sword from the tentacle. Swiftly, he walked past the altar and came upon a massive statue of a demonic goat, coated with the black veins. He placed his hand on the statue’s body and began reciting a spell in the language the essence had spoken. As he pulled his hand away, severs in the statue appeared. The red torches grew weaker with each split. The statue shattered and a dark creature stood in its place. It snorted flames and glared with crimson eyes. The servant placed his hand on the creature’s hide.
“With the awakening of this demon, the first phase of our plan can begin.”
The red fire of the torches diminished
with a howling of the arctic wind.
PHASE ONE:
~ Prelude to Darkness ~
Chapter 1: The Team of Terror, Torn Apart
Isle Soshi, 13:00
Soshi, the northernmost Isle of Tropacine, is unfit for living due to the intense heat given off by its local volcano and has been practically wiped off the map because of this. However this is quite fortunate, for the less folk that know of the island’s location, the easier it is to live there in secrecy. And recently, the inhabitants of the island have done some “renovation” to their humble home. Carved into the front side of the mountainous volcano, the fearsome face of the isle’s master glares out menacingly with semi-transparent eyes. The hat worn by this master reaches up above the volcano and is masterfully transformed from cookery-ware to a terror-inducing tower that gives a heart attack to anyone suffering from vertigo. Roars of the great waves crashing upon the rocky shoreline are meek and laughable at the pants-wettingly-scary thunderclouds bellowing above the island. Bolts of lightning constantly reach down from the dark sky and cause perfect lighting effects for the secret lair of the world’s greatest force of pure evil…
“MON DIEU!” proclaimed the infamous Chef Torte.
“What’s wrong, Chef?” Apprentice asked, concerned for his mentor.
“Your FACE ist wrong!” Chef Torte yelled in reply.
Before the dull-witted Apprentice could reply to the confusing comeback, he was savagely smacked in the face with the blunt side of a metal object that by this point in his career, he should have expected. The green-eyed culinary master, Chef Torte, whirled his marveled and technologically advanced weapon in his oven-mitt clad hands. His fist clenched tight on the handle of the mighty, capital-lettered PAN OF PAIN, and then the chef took it behind him and slipped it neatly into his shell. Chef Torte met with his reflection, staring out the expansive window that was the eyes in his newly carved monument. His thumb and index finger rubbed together, clasping at the tip-end of his mustache. The pair of digits rubbed and created great friction, so a trail of smoke began to ascend from the chef’s facial hair.
A door opened across the Main Chamber, and in entered the zany brain that backed up all of the Chef’s notorious and typically insane projects of world domination. Genius Guy was muttering some theme song to a certain program shown almost exclusively on Nick at Nite when he stepped onto the Apprentice’s chest, causing the unconscious Terrapin to spit out a bloody tooth. Genius Guy smiled conceitedly, folding his arms behind his back and standing beside the violent boss of his. It wasn’t long before Torte winced at the sound of Genius Guy’s voice, and the inevitable comment that would throw the chef over the edge.
“Admiring the craftsmanship of the lair’s new look?” Genius Guy queried.
Chef Torte exhaled through clenched teeth. “Actually, I vas just noticing how a small trail of lava vas sneaking out of my right nostril… do you know vat zat means?”
“I should congratulate Mr. Vandalay on his fine architecture?”
“NO, YOU FOOL!” Chef Torte barked. “Zat means ven moi’s enemies arrive to ze final fight at ze new Soshi Stronghold, zey’ll see lava leaking from my nose and zink my statue’s got boogeirs! Zey’ll laugh at moi! I cannot allow zat, I demand you fix it!”
“Let me see.” Genius Guy haphazardly shoved his master to the ground and glued his face to the window and squinted. He pulled back from the window and adjusted his spectacles as Torte stood up. “Hmm… It appears there is a lava leakage from your nostril area…”
“I KNOW ZAT!” Chef Torte shouted.
“I LIKE SHOUTING TOO!” Genius Guy yelled.
Chef Torte wrenched the PAN OF PAIN from its hiding place and aimed the pointed spike at the end toward his minion. His trigger finger danced along a control panel, firing red-hot lasers from the terminus. Genius Guy, with much gusto, darted along the room with similar acrobatics to a hedgehog or fox. Chef Torte continued firing and creating a mess of his respectable chamber until the batteries for the device ran low and the lasers stopped firing. Genius Guy hopped back in front of the chef and wiggled like a young child victorious against the logic of their parents.
“Well I had warned you about this sort of thing in the process of building it, but you insisted on having the nostrils clear to the volcano’s shaft so during dark nights it’d look like you were blowing smoke from your nose, much like dragons of myths…”
“Who you callin’ a myth?”
Walking through the opposing doorway that Genius Guy had come from, the brute force backing the Team of Terror showed his striking blue face with a gleaming smile of vicious teeth. Soshi, the Yo’ster dragon that was recruited to the team the very first day they moved into the base, slurped down the last of his mocha-choca-ya-ya and breathed a relaxing exhale. The blue-scaled Yoshi with draconic wings stepped heavily towards the two, his crescent-shaped razor middle toes clicking and clacking on the floor with every step.
“Hey Soshi, just busy trying to explain to ol’ man Torte that it was his own fault his nose bleeds with fiery boogers,” Genius Guy said.
Soshi walked over to Chef Torte with a very serious look on his face, ignorant to the rage burning within the chef’s eyes. He placed his hand on Torte’s shoulder to make a connection before he spoke.
“I know what you’re going through, don’t be ashamed to admit it,” Soshi spoke with a serious tone like he had never before. Chef Torte was cut off before he could respond with a comeback or a frying pan. “Sniffing ash to get high is not a way to live your life,” Chef Torte was fuming. “Fiery booger-bleeding is only the start of the physical side effects. We need you to stop before we get to the explosive diarrhea…”
BAM!
Genius Guy chuckled. “That Soshi, you can never tell when he’s joking or not. I think it’s because he has serious psychological trauma that occurred from events that can only be explained through a series of epic stories with very complex interlooping story lines.”
BAM! Very quickly a pile of bodies was building on the floor of the main chamber.
Changling and the Grand Glum Reaper, who had been trying to remain inconspicuous by camouflage and transparency techniques, let down their guises when Chef Torte seemed content with a third knockout. Changling, the red-robed Magikoopa who had been exiled from the Koopa Troop, was loyal to Torte for giving a purpose to his life again. And the gloomy ghost with emerald eyes had been locked away in a sealed tomb, but the chef stumbled upon the grave site and resurrected the Grand Glum Reaper, so the deathly phantom felt a fondness for his savior. The two both appeared from inside the room, Changling morphed into his standard form from a fly that had been buzzing in a corner of the room, and the Reaper shifted into view from a transparency spell. Together, they made a team effort to find out what was the core of their master’s problems.
“Why so melancholy?” Changling asked.
“Nozing, just… Leave moi alone.”
“…” said the Grand Glum Reaper, exchanging a glance with Changling.
“It must be something. Come on, tell us and I’m sure you’ll feel better,” said the red-robed Magikoopa
“Vell…” Torte began reluctantly. The Chef stared out the massive window with soulless eyes. “It’s Mini Moi.” the Grand Glum Reaper and Changling took a step closer to their melancholy master. “I just miss him so much… Vhy did he leave?”
Changling and the Reaper exchanged looks; they knew the leaving the chef was describing was a lie that he had created. They all knew what had really happened to the miniature clone. The shapeshifter in red approached and embraced the foreign turtle warmly and patted his shell. “There, there my friend. It’s been tough on all of us since Mini Moi left the team once he got that callback from Pepsi to be in their commercials. He left us to pursue his dream of reaching his big break in Hollyw00t, we couldn’t let his dream die just for our sakes, right?” Chef Torte sniffled and nodded his head in agreement. “That’s a good lad.”
Just then, Genius Guy sat up from the pile of stiffs. “I thought Mini Moi’s gone because Chef Torte had a tantrum and tossed the little bugger into the volcano…”
BAM! The Grand Glum Reaper handed the PAN OF PAIN back to Chef Torte.
“Vat vas he saying?” the Chef asked.
“He was saying that, um, Chef Torte is great,” Changling responded.
Chef Torte sniffed and pulled away from Changling, who had been oddly hugging him all this time… “Uh, yes. Zat’s quite true. I am great, NO! I’m greateir zan great! I’m CHEF TORTE! OOH YEAH, I FEEL REJUVENATED!!”
Changling and Grand Glum Reaper exchanged an excited look. “Evil plot?”
Torte flashed that oh-so-lovable grin. “Mwa, ha, ha, ha! I need to brainstorm, get zese zhree back into resuscitation and I’ll meet viz you in a half-hour!”
Chef Torte shuffled from the room as the Grand Glum Reaper placed a hard hat on his head and got into Changling, who had transformed into a forklift. Carrying the three passed-out party members, they sped off to the emergency chambers. The outside of the door was labeled with a sign: Isle Soshi – Twelve minutes without a severe beating. After bringing in the newest corpses, the Reaper hovered back and changed it to, Isle Soshi – We are efficient in other ways.
~*~*~*~
At this time, or perhaps another, the two other Team of Terror members not yet mentioned continued to find ways to kill time and boredom during their punishment. Embert T. Podoboo, the humble and easily influenced fireball, and Whomp, the brick found in a 7-11 trash bin, had been locked in the basement of the Soshi Stronghold upon the Team of Terror’s return.
Currently, Whomp and Embert were involved in an intense battle of the newest board game, Managing B-Movies. The task of this game was to go around the Hollyw00t lot and get commissioned to direct a terrible movie that at least turned up a fourth of its cost. The dice crashed down onto the board and rolled until the sum added up to be 4. Nervously, Embert moved his pawn that resembled a terrible director (his was Kevin Smith) four spaces. He perspired, watching his rival pick up the event card. Whomp smiled.
“David Hasslehoff shows up in URR movie. URR movie stinks, HA! WHOMP LIKE WIN! URR URR!”
“Aw, for cryin’ out loud in a bucket…” Embert expressed while Whomp moved his Tim Burton figurine to the Hollyw00t goal space. “This game is stinky. Let’s play somethin’ else…”
Whomp smiled, placing his Viking helmet atop his rectangular head, in suggestion for a lil’ D&D.
“Nah, I don’t wanna play Dungeons and Dragons, I’ve gotten to level 60 and my audience isn’t gonna get any bigger. It’s just not fun once you’ve gotten so strong,” Embert argued.
Whomp whined a bit, taking off his hat. Embert scanned the room from his barstool and saw an old box plopped in the corner. He began jumping excitedly.
“What make flamer jump?” Whomp asked.
“Lookie, there’s a big box over there! We could look inside and see if it has any cool toys to play with,” Embert answered.
Whomp stood up. “ME LIKE TOY! WHOMP want WHOMP toy!”
“Wait, Whomp!” But it was too late. The box was crushed.
“URR URR! FUN!”
“Oh boy, now what are we gonna do?” Embert pondered in his meek voice.
“LEZ CRUSH CHEF’S CAKE!”
“NO!” Embert screamed, halting his friend in the nick of time. “Remember, Chef said we can’t go upstairs since we ruined his plans for world domination last time…”
“Bored ‘gain, go upstairs?” Whomp suggested, forgetting all that Embert had just told him.
“We can’t go upstairs… Well, there has to be…” Embert wondered.
“Another way out? WHOMP FIND URRT!”
“What? No! That’s not what I was gonna say!”
This time Embert failed in his plight to stop further damage, and thus Whomp rammed through a wall, which was supposed to be a load-bearing wall, with a solid rock and concrete on the other end. It was supposed to be, at least. The frantic fireball hopped after the big lug and jumped on his back in anger.
“Oh, you’ve done it now! Chef Torte will douse us for this!” Embert complained.
Whomp stood up and gazed at the room in awe. Quickly Embert silenced his mutterings and took in the spectacle of the secret room, too.
Two-hundred eighty golden candles lit the room that carried Chef Torte’s deep, dark secret (well, as secret as this public knowledge could get). Everywhere were pictures, plushies, figurines, clay molds, and anything made in the shape of Rouge the Bat or with her face on it. In the center of the room was a golden idol of the Sonic Adventure 2 character, with water flowing out from her mouth and into a pool around her where the statue sat cross-legged. The room was… bizarre, the kind of weird where you feel that the butterflies in your stomach are so scared they reverted back to pupas. Despite all the glitz and glorious glitter everywhere that made the room feel enchanted, Embert still felt like he was walking the green mile.
“We. Should. Leave. NOW.”
Whomp had something else in mind, however.
“WHOMP! NO!!!”
~*~*~*~
The storm had died down some, leaving most lightning to be dull flashes and the thunder to be brief growls. The big force of nature at work right now was the volcano. The lava bubbled and boiled more than usual, giving a fitting rumble to add to the scene. The orange, fiery glow reflected on the typically dark clouds, giving a reddish hue to the devilish atmosphere.
On the tower’s top, we find the mastermind of Isle Soshi doing some serious thinking. Chef Torte turned on a dime, continuing his pacing. It was a trait he had developed long before his days of mischief making. He would pace, and he would plot. Pace and plot, pace, plot, pace, plot, pace… and then he’d plot! Chef Torte’s green eyes gave off an electric glow as he schemed for his newest plan. He stopped dead in his tracks and closed his eyes, feeling the most brilliant plan ever coming to him. As this was happening, the lava was boiling even more intensely, and several short tiny flashes of lightning sparked in the distance surrounded the island. BOOM! CRACK! SHA-BAAM! Lightning suddenly roared down in striking silver streaks that cast the chef’s shadow in every direction as he rose his arms to the sky, laughing maniacally.
~*~*~*~
Within the next five minutes, all but two of the members (who were still locked in the basement) were found congregating around the Main Chamber’s main table. Changling and the Grand Glum Reaper were once again exchanging looks of accomplishment, having breathed new evil into their master. Genius Guy was stroking his demonic feline Lucy Fur with a hairbrush not meant for this world. The brush was armed to the brim with bloody spikes and even actual knives, yet when dragged along the back of the beastly kitten, the cat showed signs of joy by purring! What a thing, a masochist cat, who’d a thunk it? Soshi was licking his wounds, literally, while writing down the top things he liked about Chef Torte so he could repress his anger. And finally, the Apprentice was rubbing his sore cheek and getting tipsy off fumes from rubber cement he used to place his tooth back in his jaw.
The cacophony filling the room was shushed away when the shaft doors opened vertically and the eerie silouhette of Chef Torte looked out. With his evil smirk, he stepped out with the greatest egoism and smug-ness. He silently waltzed around the table; this was scary in itself but it was even scarier that he was doing it well. The Team of Terror watched with jaws dropped as Torte even completed a twirl to his seat. The chef spun not two, but three times after plopping his rear into his chair. When coming to face the table on his third rotation he slammed his fists on the table, causing his spinning to stop.
“HA!” He cried, unsettling the minions and causing a few to release a bowel movement. He smiled sinisterly as the Apprentice fell out of his chair. “My loyal lackeys, I haf done it! I haf finally come up viz ze most peirfect plan EVEIR! Yes, ZEES plan cannot fail! It’s foolproof, it’s even Genius Guy-proof!”
“It’s true, I tested it,” Genius Guy said, nibbling on his cat’s tail.
Not paying any attention to the moron, Chef Torte continued. Or rather he would have, had a loud crashing from the basement not interrupted the conversation. He and the other Team of Terror members were dead silent, their minds only dreading what could have possibly happened.
“WHOMP! NO!!!”
The sound of a second, louder crash was heard, and then a series of ricochet crashes were heard as what could only be millions of dollars in craftsmanship and architectural work were destroyed. And to top it off, the floor caved in.
Chef Torte groaned, climbing to his feet. He dusted off his cape and looked around.
“All right, who’s ze idiot responsible for...”
Chef Torte was taken aback. He felt his world falling apart all around him, as it kinda did. Everywhere, all he had worked for- his Rouge collection, demolished. Utterly demolished, it was gone, just plain GONE. He could muster no words. His eyes looked as if they would continue bulging to breech their sockets and swell up to the size of the entire room and eventually burst, causing a tear in the space-time continuum, and thus negating all existence. Fortunately, that didn’t happen. Something MUCH worse was in the works…
~*~*~*~
The raging storm hovering above Isle Soshi was always considered to be, well, raging. But this time made raging look like a baby giggling. A torrent of rain punched the top of the tower, where the entire Team of Terror sat in a state of shock as a punishment so over-the-top was put into action. The storm roared in anger. It was malevolent, it was unforgiving, it was Chef Torte.
The Chef stared as he paced along in front of the two culprits. Embert and Whomp were tied together and placed inside the throwing end of a catapult. A Team of Terror brand catapult, at that. The Chef’s eyes had no depth anymore; they were filled with fire. His teeth grit and his fist clenched so hard it busted the handle of the PAN OF PAIN. He paced one more length before turning to the duo of destruction.
“YOU!………..LOOK!……MOI!………FOOLS!!!…..AGGAH!!!” Chef Torte could barely form words.
“But Chef, we, we didn’t mean to, honest!” Embert pleaded.
“I DON’T VANT TO HEAR IT!” Chef Torte bellowed. “As of zis moment, ze boz of you are no longeir membeirs of ze Team of Terror! Consideir zis your dishonorable discharge, effective immediately!”
The other members of the Team of Terror, standing by idly, wanted to say something to stop the event, but were all too frightened to do so. Chef Torte marched aflame towards the lever that would essentially launch a flaming rock into the distance.
“Please… Chef Torte! Master of Evil and foodstuff! Don’t do this! I beg of you!” Embert cried.
“WHOMP NO LIKE! URR URRNT!”
Chef Torte made his way to the lever. He placed a firm hand on the device and breathed in a moment, causing the suspense to never cease. Genius Guy stepped forward and pulled out bagpipes, and began playing a Scottish melody of salute and so longs, honoring the days of the two lost members. Plus he got to wear a kilt. Chef Torte stared at the crying Podoboo and the brick that was chewing on the head of a Rouge plushie. That drove him over the edge.
“MAY ZE STARS HAF MEIRCY ON YOUR SOULS, BECAUSE ZEY KNOW I SURE VON’T! NOW DIE!!!”
And with that, the lever was pulled. Embert T. Podoboo and Whomp were launched far, far away. As they disappeared in the dark clouds their screams followed after. Chef Torte turned and left in a fury. The Team of Terror slowly sidled back in, hoping not to run into the chef for a further fifteen years. Genius Guy left last, his Scottish melody ending abruptly.
“Oh shoot, this means I have to fix the base AGAIN!”
~*~*~*~
Chef Torte stood alone in his desolated shrine to the vampire goddess he regarded as Rouge. The many posters and pictures were ripped to shreds, their canvases pouring out from cracked wooden frames. Small white beads spewed out of the dozens of plush toys the cook had collected in her image. The giant golden idol was in pieces. The brilliant shine of its former glory had completely vanished. And from where the idol once stood, a small pipe spurted out water sporadically as the serene fountain was flattened in the fall. With each spray of liquid, Chef Torte’s left eye twitched. As his legs grew tired he fell to the ground and sat down with his legs folded and his knees coming together in front of him. His arms hung motionlessly in the air at his sides. His face, now lit by some obscure, blue-tinted glow, was barren and despaired. It was a face of true sadness. As the soft lights died out, all that was seen in the darkness were the glowing irises of green, until even they faded away into the shadows…
And then… he was gone.
Chapter 2: Enter: The Koopa Troop
Deep beneath a glowing blue moon, a fleet of ships sailed swiftly towards an uncertain destination. Two massive battleships followed by an aircraft carrier sliced through the dark aquatic blanket, while a hidden submarine traveled silently below the behemoths. The Koopa Navy had been sailing the seas for a period of time after their last defeat at the Mushroom Kingdom with heavy losses. No one had the guts to question exactly where the troop was heading, and were hoping they didn’t run into Bowser in the halls. As the ships slowly waded through the oceans, a foreign craft submerged in the dark waters began to tail them as they made their way past a relatively dull island to the north.
Bowser pounded his foot on the cold ground three times, each time knocking the light fixtures in the cabins below on and off. The meek Koopas trying to relax in their rooms panicked with each quaking and piece of dust that descended onto their floor. The elite Koopatrols in shiny dark purple shells outside Bowser’s chamber on either side of his red, bolted door looked at one another with their red eyes, knowing anyone to go in wasn’t likely to come back out.
The massive Koopa paced around his room and closed his eyes. Deep in his mind, he searched for an idea, any idea. Something to get his mind off his defeats. It had been so long since Bowser felt like he’d posed a real threat, he needed something brilliant, something vivacious that would strike fear into his sworn enemies. The Koopa sighed. He had nothing. His glazed eyes surveyed his room and came across a tiny green Piranha Plant that was snoozing in a cozy orange vase. Two leaves stretching out from the creature’s stem acted as a pillow for the bulb of the flower. Bowser felt at peace watching the snot bubble expand and deflate as the Piranha Plant snored.
“You’re so lucky, Ludwig,” Bowser spoke. “Sometimes I wish I could just sleep and not worry about conquering the world…”
Bowser’s muscular claws gently rubbed against the smooth head of the plant named after his first son. This particular Piranha Plant was a rare breed known as a Piket. Pikets were supposedly very loyal and would even sacrifice themselves to help their owner. As they mature, they are rumored to take on the qualities of their owner, even physical similarities. However, most of this information was speculation as Pikets were near extinction and most didn’t live past infancy.
The Piket gave off something reminiscent of a purr as Bowser’s finger soothed it. The pot the Piranha Plant was rooted in had the words “For Dad” written on it. The Koopa King remembered how his son Larry had given him the Piket as a gift two days after the defeat of the Reznor. Right then and there he had named it after his eldest child, and quickly grew attached to the tiny plant.
At that moment, or perhaps a bit after, there was a knocking on the door. Bowser growled and looked up from little Ludey. He beckoned the measly minion to come inside and disturb him with whatever pointless message he had to offer. Moronically, the Goomba marched inside singing a tune.
“Hello, Master B! How’s the roundabout stickin’ it to ya?” the Goomba asked.
Bowser growled fiercely, a fiery orb building in his throat. “What is your business here?”
“Aight, aight, I be getting to the point, B-dawg,” The Goomba belched out a piece of paper and read it as it lay on the ground, covered in his own bile. “Oh yeah, I remembers now. The K-man wants to see you out on the deck in fifteen manizzles.”
“Is that all?” Bowser questioned, the lights in the room fading, as the growing inferno within his mouth became the primary source of illumination, creating a bowel-moving display.
“That be it, Kommander K. Naw if you’ll ‘scuze me, I needs to be headin’ out to get a perm, yo.”
Outside Bowser’s quarters, the two Koopatrols stood idly at either side of the bolted doors with a very bored look on their face. One yawned as the door burst apart in a wave of fire and a charred Goomba was tossed out and reduced to rubble upon hitting the ground. Out of the smoking chamber, the reptilian cutthroat romped passed the guards, who both saluted upon his appearance. As the Koopa behemoth strode down the hallways to reach the outer deck where he was sent to meet his vizier, the moonlight outside reflected the shiny surfaces of the Koopa Fleet. The Gargantuan shimmered in the lunar glow along with its sister ship, the Devastator. Behind the two battleships was the aircraft carrier, the previously unnamed submarine that had now been dubbed “Delga”, and a few smaller insignificant ships. Delga had been relatively unused aside from storing a few explosives and other weaponry and ammunition. However it had been assigned several more functions after the third battleship, the Cerberus, had been demolished.
~*~*~*~
And happening on that very submarine…
A long line of basic henchmen filed silently a little room, as crew physicals were happening. Inside the little chamber there was a tiny sink setup with a few cupboards containing medical supplies and instruments. In the corner of the room there was an incredibly small area with a torn curtain used for privacy, not that it gave any. The only crew member of the Koopa Troop fit to be called doctor looked up from his charts and nodded to the current henchman, signaling that his test was done and he could get dressed and be excused. Clever Guy leaned over to gaze at the door and called out, “Next!” The next generic soldier stumbled in awkwardly while Clever Guy placed down his notepad and extended a plastic container to the worker.
“Urinate in this, and then go back there and strip down,” Clever Guy ordered, extremely frustrated with the latest odd job the big boss had given him. The vastly intelligent Shyster in green and clad in a lab coat shook his head with a sigh. “I’m a creature of science, but I can’t stand this duty. And Koopas are really quite disgusting creatures without their shells. Torch, remind me to defy the next order the king gives me that involves scanning the naked bodies of any of his footmen.”
A fiery Podoboo with a furious red glow popped out from behind the Shy Guy, wearing a large metal disk strapped inexplicably around his body, making him look like one of those mad scientist types. In a gruff voice he replied, “You can say that again.”
Torch R. Chambers had been recruited into the Koopa Troop after his trial before the king. Clever Guy had been the one who had mysteriously saved his tail, so the fireball formed a trust with the Shy Guy. Although personally Clever Guy didn’t find anything intriguing about Torch, he surprisingly found enjoyment out of his companionship. Clever Guy looked down at his notepad and wrote down more after placing the urine sample into a freezer. He flipped the front page, which had all the data charts of the henchmen he was checking, to the back of the pad and revealed a second page near the end he had been working on in between routine physicals. On the messy, ink-stained page of yellow there were several equations, small paragraphs, and even a few sketches and drawings. Torch caught eyesight of the page and became curious. “What’s that you’re working on, bud?”
The Shyster eyed the fireball for a minute and then flipped back to the first page to record all of the data he needed since the current patient had been stripped. He circled the soldier while answering his fiery acquaintance. “I’ve recently been working on a theory that involves Star travel.”
“Star travel?” Torch asked.
“Yes, Star travel,” Clever Guy finished writing down his notes and nodded for the henchman to get dressed and leave. “Next! It’s a very complex theory, but I believe it’s a possible attribute of the divine Stars we so ignorantly worship. It involves bending time and space and opening something like a wormhole to transport matter from one location to another, urinate into this, and then go back there to strip for further examination,” Clever Guy said, handing the new soldier a cup.
“So it’s like a magic warp or something?” Torch asked.
Clever Guy chuckled. “Magic warp, it is not. The guild of magic users, including Master Kamek and our devious friend the shapeshifter, are quite foolish in their usage of magic spells to transport themselves from one place to another.”
Torch still didn’t quite understand. “But it’s been done. They can do it.”
“This is true, but there are great limits to these incantations and rituals. Magic warping actually puts quite a strain on the physical body of the spell caster, which is why it’s such a high level technique for Magikoopas, Shamans, and other mystics alike. They have to strengthen their physical and mental forms if they wish to perform the act without completely withering their own bodies. Even an experienced magic user with the greatest ranking will still summer physical strain from the teleportation spell. You’re done, go. NEXT!”
Clever Guy gave the cup to the next guard and looked down at Torch, who was still compiling the information he had just received into his next question.
“So… um… Star travel doesn’t do that?”
Clever Guy smiled away from the Podoboo’s gaze. “Simple creature. No, Star travel would not result in a physical or mental grazing in its truest and purest capacity. Think about it, the fastest path to any destination is a straight line, correct? In theory, Star travel ceases the flow of time and bends the universe to form such a path, the traveler would then break apart in physical form and become energy that is fired like a bullet through the straight line.” Clever Guy stopped for a moment and waited in silence as his Podoboo friend thought. “It’s a very complicated process, and I’ve expressed it to you in the simplest of words and ways. There are numerous other conflicts and details involved with Star travel, but in essence, well, there it is.”
“There it is,” Torch said, hoping to sound like he had grasped at least some of the concept.
Clever Guy pointed to the door for the current patient. “Next, please.”
~*~*~*~
Meanwhile, aboard the Devastator…
“It’s my turn!”
“No, me, ME!!!”
“Oh, yeah right, you played like, five million times already!”
“Yeah!”
“That wasn’t me, that was… YOU!”
“That was hilarious.”
“Can we just stop and let me play?”
“NO!”
“Now for the last time, it’s my turn, move aside!”
“All of you, SHUT UP!”
The six spawns of Bowser Koopa turned to gaze at their superior, the vile wench Kammy Koopa, who’d rather be shot than forced to play babysitter with the demonic children left alive in Bowser’s family. The two absent from the scene, Ludwig and Lemmy, had been gone for so long they weren’t sure what to make of it. The last communication with Lemmy involved a Mario Brothers sighting, so they very well may have killed him. Ludwig though, that was another story. He hadn’t been seen in a decade… However, the remaining Koopalings from Roy right down to the newest addition of Bowser Junior remained as annoying and loud as ever, despite their aging. Kammy snorted and flicked her wrist at the video game console, causing it to burst into flames.
“KAMMY! THAT COST A LOT OF COINS!” Morton cried.
“Yeah! And I was getting good at Dance, Sing, and Party Plus!” Wendy shrieked.
“Getting good?” Iggy scoffed. “Maybe if the game was called Dance, Sing, and Make a Fool of Yourself.”
Wendy narrowed her eyes and barred her razor sharp teeth. “Shouldn’t you be out on a ledge somewhere?”
“Oh why don’t the both of you just shut up and die already?” the gluttonous Roy barked. “I’m trying to listen to the radio anyway, we should be thanking Kammy for destroying that piece of garbage.”
“I NEVER GOT TO PLAY THE PIECE OF GARBAGE!” Junior, Bowser’s most recent and most resembling child, screamed.
“Nobody cares about you, remember?” Larry mentioned.
“Oh right, I forgot,” Junior said angrily.
“Now what am I gonna do? I spent all my money on that thing, and now I’ve got nothing! This is… this is… this STINKS! You stink, Kammy! Why’d you have to go and do something like that, huh? Is it because you’re a bitter old woman who’ll never be happy because the only faithful companions you have in your life is your pathetic seemingly identical cousin and that blundering oaf of a father I have? Is that it? Why can’t you let us flowers bloom, Kammy? Let us live!” Morton blabbered.
Kammy placed a firm claw to her forehead and wept dryly. “I wish I was dead.”
~*~*~*~
Sparks of light jumped away from a metallic surface as a Koopa welded on a massive aircraft. The Koopa Jet II was near completion, it’d be finished in less than a week for sure. General Jagger overlooked the blueprints, which had been drawn up by Clever Guy, and pretended he knew what he was doing as a supervisor. Goombas and Koopas armed with hard helmets pounded away on the machine with black hammers and other tools. Two Lakitus hovered above the production and yelled various orders to workers below. Jagger realized he had been looking at the instructions upside down when a claw grasped his shoulder.
“I’m turning in for the night, Jagger.”
The Terrapin turned around to see the naval admiral Jade Koopa. Jade brushed her brown hair after pulling her hand back.
“Yeah, all right,” Jagger replied.
“Would you like to come with me? This is the last transport ship that will be moving tonight,” Jade informed.
“Uh… nah, I think I’ll stay here and continue supervising on the project.”
Jade shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
Jagger’s eyes followed Jade as she left the room. He wouldn’t mind staying on the aircraft carrier the whole night, really. He was hoping to find out more about the Koopa Jet II, as his king had chosen him as the lead pilot for the craft. The Koopa flipped the blueprints upright and continued studying.
~*~*~*~
The soothing songs of a passing troupe of whales sounded in the all-too-quiet evening. Standing alone on the dark, empty deck of the Gargantuan, Kamek watched as a tremendous figure came into the light of the moon above.
“My King, you have arrived.”
Bowser ripped off a large chunk of his Buzzy Beetle-on-a-stick and swallowed it whole. “Sorry for the delay, I had an unexpected detour to the kitchen for a tasty snack.”
Kamek nodded, stepping closer to his master. “All too understandable, my liege. These times have left us with starving stomachs and aimless ambitions, which is why I have asked you here.”
Bowser grimaced at Kamek’s words and pulled his stickified meal back defensively.
“No, no, I mean I want to talk to you about our next undertaking,” Kamek explained, relaxing his commander until he began chomping gleefully on his insect once again. “Surely your thoughts must dance around the notion that we have been remarkably terrible in our more recent tactics to foil the Mushroom Kingdom, and surely you must have some itching to get back to your villainous attempts, yes my King?”
Bowser’s loud chewing and slurping sounded before a fiery burp launched soot into Kamek’s face. “Sorry ‘bout that. But yeah, I guess I have been thinking about it.”
Kamek removed his spectacles and wiped them clean. “Then what is your next devious plan to finally become top-dog of the planet? How will we conquer Plit?”
Bowser licked the stick clean with his forked tongue and chucked it blindly backward, where it impaled a very unfortunate watchman who was on patrol. “That, my vizier, I have no answer to.”
Kamek raised a brow. “Is that so?”
“Indeed.” Bowser wiped his maw. “I’ve been tossed back to the drawing board once again, and I can’t think of anything new to try! I mean, giant robots, out, giant monsters, out, super-powered aircrafts, out, magical wands, out, ancient doors, out, nuclear weapons, out, french fries, out, egg whites, out.”
Kamek nodded understandingly and connected his arms behind his cloaked shell, appearing in a hunched form. “Well, sir, that’s all quite true. But there must be something you are willing to try! Some ancient fable you read about online, maybe even a hidden message in a popular song? Or an idea you could steal from a popular movie? Bowser, you can’t be saying you’ve given up.”
Bowser sighed and looked up at the moon. “I… I think it might be time, Kamek.”
Kamek stepped back. “No, no! I won’t have you talking like that!”
“Think realistically for a moment, Kamek!” Bowser turned to view his loyal subject. “It’s me, I love being evil more than anyone else in the world. But I’m getting old, and maybe it’d be best for me to retire from all this evil business. There’s barely a Koopa Troop left to command, as most of my father’s followers have defected. Even our homeland of Kooparia has a new ruling government. Don’t you realize it, Kamek? The title of King Koopa really doesn’t apply to me anymore. There is no King of the Koopas, there is just a big fat loser who wants to twinkle on stage one last time!”
Kamek had to stifle the tears in his flooding eyes. “Bowser, we’ll make that last twinkle! We will!”
The two came together and wrapped each other’s arms around one another, even though Kamek barely reached Bowser’s sides and Bowser was virtually killing Kamek in a death grip. Together as one, they cried. After what seemed an eternity, they broke into two separate figures again.
“I just don’t have any ideas anymore, there’s nothing I can do to strike fear into the hearts of thousands anymore.” Bowser looked into the distance. “I don’t even have a large enough army to conquer a meaningless island like that.”
Kamek blew his nose into a handkerchief and looked out at the island Bowser was referring to. “Strange…”
“What is it?” Bowser asked.
Kamek scratched his chin. “This island… Admiral Jade hadn’t mentioned we’d be traveling by an island. At least not this soon…”
“What do you mean?” Bowser asked.
“I’m thinking that this island isn’t on our sea charts… it’s undiscovered…” Kamek replied.
Their eyes met with a sinister grin. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
Kamek nodded. “Always sir, always.”
Immediately the fleet had a course set for itself, and the large ships turned northbound to sail towards the mysterious, uncharted island. As they drew away from their former spot, the vessel that had been following them breached the surface of the water and spied after the Koopa fleet. A large, almost familiar symbol rested upon the sub’s shell. Something resembling two yellow circles connected at their sides, and on top of that was a large letter in bold colored purple. The mysterious vessel returned to the depths from whence it came as the Koopa Navy came ashore…
Chapter 3: Letter for Luigi
“Good morning, Miss Tayce T.”
The elder Mushroom woman smiled in response to the kind shop owner and waved the loaf of bread she held in her hand. Afterward, she placed the bread alongside her other items in a shopping bag she carried. After grabbing the last few things she needed, she went up to the counter and paid the correct amount of coinage to the benevolent proprietor.
“Have a nice day,” the shopkeeper wished.
“You too, hun,” Tayce T replied.
The warm yellow-spotted Mushroomer stepped out into the sunlight that the city basked in. Swiveling her head on her shoulders, she looked to her left and to her right. Toad Town had recovered quickly from its recent encounter with the Koopa King and his four fire-breathing monsters. The old woman smiled at all the people whistling along the sidewalks attending their business. How she’d love to cook for every single one of them. That thinking brought Tayce T back to her task at hand, returning home with the groceries. She had been hired by the royal administration to lead the kitchen at the Newborn ball at the castle in two nights, and she was eager to try out some new recipes. Content with herself, Tayce T trotted home.
A feather or two fell placidly to the ground as a creature above passed by in a fit of panic. The most-recognizable Parakarry scanned the ground below for a letter he had most certainly dropped during his routine. He scratched his helmet-encased noggin and felt plumb out of luck. He scrambled off down the street, continuing his hunt.
It was then that the nearby warp pipe a-rumbled and out plopped one of the famous Mario Brothers, Luigi. The man in green happily skipped down the city path towards the central plaza. Upon passing the house with a spinning rooftop, his eye was caught by a note pinned up on the door. Luigi stepped forward to the door and read over the document carefully:
Dear Loiterer,
I have gone out for a couple of days in search of the meaning of a recent vision. I hope to return before the big ball, but it may be unavoidable. Nevertheless, keep your mind at ease and your spirit soaring and all that mystic mumbo-jumbo.
~Merlink
PS. Please don’t break into my house and steal stuff.
Luigi chuckled. Merlink seemed a lot nicer than his twin brother did; yet he was a lot more headstrong and quick-to-judge than Merlon. For a year now, or maybe it was getting to be two—he couldn’t quite remember—Merlink had taken place in the fortunetelling business in the Mushroom Kingdom for his brother while Merlon moved to the northern Starborn Valley to spend some much needed time with his son. Luigi couldn’t help but compare the two to himself and Mario, or, Stario, right? Yes. He looked at Merlink being his brother in red and Merlon more relating to himself. Of course, when Luigi wasn’t paying attention and letting his random thoughts take over he’d see it the other way. The plumber looked forward and wandered in the direction of the new Beanbean Café, which found its home in the former resting place of Rowf’s Badge Shop. Luigi opened the door and breathed in deeply through his nose. He licked his lips and marched forward, demanding a Teeheespresso.
~*~*~*~
A sea of pink stood eagerly before their lady, each identical dress begging to be the one chosen. Princess Peach placed her gloved, delicate hand against her poignant, pinkish hue in the center of her soft-as-cloud cheek. Her violet eyes blinked dazedly several times before growing impatient.
“I just don’t know which one to pick for the ball, they’re all so perfect in their own special way,” the princess plighted.
Her attendant, Toad, looked up from his current task of sorting through shoes and blankly observed the row of dresses. He grimaced and frowned at Peach. “Princess, they’re all the exact same. It doesn’t matter which one you choose.”
Peach scoffed at the remark. “You honestly think that, don’t you? Obviously you don’t have the keen eye for elegant craft and royal fineries. There’s something special and unique about each of my dresses, I’ll have you know. Even the one I’m wearing has a certain mood and individual taste to it.”
Toad glanced over the current outfit she was wearing, which looked similar to the ones hanging inside the closet. “Really, then what’s this dress’ uniqueness?”
Peach looked deep into Toad’s eyes and spoke with sincerity. “This is morning mist.”
Toad rolled his eyes and muttered something of a response, and returned to his shoe organizing. Sadly after he finished, he would need to go through the exact same conversation again only about which footwear the princess would look best in.
Peach shook her head, comparing two dresses in front of her. “I really need a female attendant for this sort of thing. Remind me next time to ask for Toadette instead of you.”
“Fine by me,” Toad said, annoyed. He loved his princess but couldn’t stand her strange ability to see differences in identical objects. Toad proceeded with a sigh as Peach persisted in her pessimistic problems.
~*~*~*~
“Get back here!”
Heads turned and items fell to the ground as people’s attention was focused on a commotion that had erupted within the town. Down the main street hopped an incredibly hasty yellow rabbit, carrying an unopened envelope in his tiny paws. The rabbit stopped in the middle of the central plaza and looked back at its pursuer, the bunny’s ear flopping over its right eye, creating a mischievous face upon the furred bandit. As the blue-shelled postman flapped into view, the yellow rabbit streaked off again. Parakarry shouted and soared awkwardly after the hare. The folks along the road chuckled and some even cheered the rabbit on as the poor, clumsy Paratroopa of the Mushroom Postal Service followed it. As Parakarry drew closer, the rabbit made a swift turn down the road, causing Parakarry to lose control and nearly crash into Merlink’s house. The rabbit skipped across the flower garden, making Minh T, the local flower-fanatic, reel back in surprise. Parakarry snarled and rocketed after the pestering critter, forcing all of the flower petals off the stems with the beating of his wings as he shot by.
Luigi stepped out of the café, a second drink in his hand, this time a Hoolumbian. He sniffed it dreamily until his focus was caught on the action-packed chase in the town before him. A small rabbit bounced by in front of the plumber, quickly followed by a disgruntled postal worker who kicked Luigi’s beverage into his face. The Italian screamed in pain as the scorching coffee burned his face. He stepped forward onto the pavement and pressed both hands onto his searing face. He spun around wildly in the violent sensation and ended up facing the southbound direction. Luigi slid his hands from his face just in time to see a rabbit pass through his legs and Parakarry ram into his chest. The two collided and rolled backward like a two-part tire and smashed into Merlink’s home, causing the roof to spin in the other direction. The bunny watched the two swirly-eyed fools with a sneaky grin until caught off guard and lifted by its collar. The rabbit released the letter and squirmed to be free once again.
“Shame on you, little fellow!”
The rabbit turned back and sneered at its captor: a large nosed, green-scaled dinosaur with a pair of spectacles who put the nerd in… nerd. Ryanoshi snickered at the bunny’s fury and picked up the letter. Luigi and Parakarry rose with a jostling, and came to face the Yo’ster. As Parakarry and Ryanoshi came into close contact, the two stared each other down, firing blades of animosity through their narrowed eyes.
“Hello, Parakarry,” Ryanoshi greeted with disgust.
“Hello, Ryanoshi,” Parakarry replied with an equal amount of refute.
Luigi noticed the obvious tension but tried his best to ignore it. “Um, thanks Ryanoshi,” he said uncomfortably. “It looked like Parakarry was having trouble with the rabbit.”
Parakarry flashed a glance of contempt at the plumber before snatching the letter from Ryanoshi’s grip. The unexpected snag caused the dino to let go of the furry critter, and without much resistance, the bunny scurried off down the way to the Pleasant Path. The three looked after it with only a slight regret of its escape.
“Wascaly Wabbit!” Ryanoshi proclaimed, with much intended humor.
Luigi pretended to miss the joke to avoid forcing a chuckle. “Erm, Ryanoshi, why in the world are you here in Toad Town again? Hadn’t you gone home to write another novel?”
Ryanoshi turned to his green clad comrade. “That is true, I had ventured to my hometown back on Isle de Yoshi for a spot of writing- but the most terrible thing happened when I got there.” Ryanoshi looked back and forth from the two he was speaking to. “Writer’s block.”
“That’s a shame, but I still don’t know why you’re back in the Mushroom Kingdom,” Luigi stated.
Ryanoshi nodded to Luigi. “That, my friend, isn’t something I’d like to discuss at the moment.”
“… Oh?” Luigi was confused by the strange secrecy to Ryanoshi’s trip; normally the guy had nothing to hide and showed it by being blatantly obvious. “Okay, I guess.”
“In fact, my brief stop in town has gone on for a little too long. I best be heading out, Luigi.” He turned to the Paratroopa and his charm and artsy-fartsy air was instantly changed to a bitter hatred. “You.”
Parakarry smirked at Ryanoshi and waved his fingers at the Yoshi. “Toodeloo!”
Luigi’s eyes caught the lost, empty cup that once held his glorious brew and he almost shed a tear. “Oh well, I should be getting home. See you, Parakarry.”
“Hold on, Luigi!” Parakarry called after the plumber. “Strangely enough, this letter’s addressed to YOU.”
Luigi looked perplexed, it was quite a twist of events. “Huh, that’s weird.”
Parakarry handed him the envelope and watched as the plumber nonchalantly opened it, and proceeded to scan his eyes over the words concealed within it. As Parakarry watched, Luigi’s excitement grew with each line down the page. The mailman was now very curious. Luigi looked up from the letter with a surprised look but a beaming grin that suggested good news.
~*~*~*~
“But isn’t it just… well, amazing?”
A mid-hour had passed and the sun was growing closer to the horizon line. The once blue sky with fluffy white clouds had melted into a moist canvas of orange and red. Songbirds chirped their last melodies for the day before fluttering off to their nests to sleep for the eve. A gentle breeze passed from the northwest and playfully swayed the trees back and forth whilst passing by.
Luigi’s excitement caused him to rush home to tell his brother of the proposal he had received. Stario had been sleeping at the time, but with a few quick broom handles to the skull the snoring hero awoke to learn of his brother’s letter. The two now were in the kitchen, picking at some cold omelets.
“Well, yes, I suppose it’s pretty amazing,” Stario said, trying to be amazed.
Luigi called his bluff. “Just because stuff like this happens to you so frequently doesn’t mean you have to be so bored when an adventurous opportunity comes up for me.”
Stario swallowed reluctantly at a piece of the frigid egg meal. “Sorry, bro. I guess I just feel down that you’ll be missing the ball in two days.”
Luigi’s mind just struck the idea. “Oh shoot, I had completely forgotten about the ball…”
“That’s funny, you’ve been thinking about it nonstop for the passed week or so,” Stario commented.
“I guess I just got caught up in the letter…” Luigi looked at it again. “It says if I’m to make it in time, I’d have to get a flight and be flying by noon tomorrow.”
“Well, don’t let us stop you from going on your big adventure, Luigi,” Stario said comfortingly. “You can have your moments too.”
Luigi smiled. “You’re going to have to tell the princess I’m sorry I couldn’t make it.” He watched Stario nod in agreement. “I’m-a gonna go now and call for a ticket.”
Stario watched his brother merrily jog out of the room, and thought about the whole thing. It was really weird; a letter turns up requesting an attendance in a fighting tournament with the greatest the world has to offer and the letter was for Luigi. Stario felt slightly hurt that it was for his brother and not him, when he had obviously had far more strength and field experience. The man in red shook the thoughts of jealousy away and tried his best to be happy for his brother. As Stario heard Luigi talking on the phone in the next room he chuckled and brought his hand to his face. That was the first time he had worried about something so trivial in such a long time…
Recently Stario’s thoughts pertained only to very depressing and ominous matters. He had given the world peace by defeating Vuljiin, but he felt no inner peace. Stario still felt guilt for not being Mario, the person everyone wanted him to be. Then again, maybe he was Mario… it wasn’t impossible, was it? He was created by the combination of Mario and the Crystal Star. So now that the Crystal Star was removed from his body, why was he still in place of Mario? He wished he had the answers, even more he wished he didn’t have the questions. For as long as Stario knew he was Stario he felt as though the world around him was constantly falling apart. Where was Defender, the Star sage he had spoken to during his final confrontation with Vuljiin? Why didn’t he show up to answer the heroic hybrid’s pleas? Maybe he didn’t exist, maybe Stario had simply created him to force himself to go on and save the world from darkness.
Stario looked out the window, seeing the sun disappear and night fall over the Mushroom Kingdom. The world was never safe from darkness… he could never be at peace and one with himself. He sighed and looked out at the sky until the stars appeared.