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KOOPALINGS : THE TEENAGE YEARS

by Foxy Boy

CHAPTER XI: UNWANTED ADDITION

*******************************************************

"Lower! Descend! "

Bowser's commands boomed through the air to the Troopas at the Clown car's controls. He himself would've taken the helm as he'd always done, but had forseen the possibility of needs for more than piloting. Leaning slightly over the front railings alongside his eldest son, he saw his caution to be useful. The alarmed staring of Roy's captors did zilch to hide their positions; others from the royal bloodline appeared, and it frightened both Bowser and Ludwig how close they'd been to putting an end to Roy's earthly time. Now twenty feet above the road, Bowser snapped two fingers and the Troopas locked the airship to a steady hover.

"Mouser!!" The patriarch yelled angrily. "Never in a million reigns would I presume I'd confront you on such grounds. But what's done is done, and by evincing this attempt on my son's life your death is assured. If you abandon your weapons and come peacefully, I will guarantee you a fair and honourable trial. You have no options here, so you'd be wise to accept and spare yourself not only dishonour, but a much less pleasant demise than what my executioner practices."

For a gulp's length, it looked as if the rat would comply, but instead he contributed defiance, along with Vinnie, whose eyes and gun all remained on their mark.

"No options, huh? Fuck you, you Hot Topic bracelet on legs, if you thought I'll give up and embrace it." His scowl swapped out to a deranged grin; he enjoyed the fury in the king's eyes. Ludwig, still beside has father, said nothing. All that occupied him was the gun facing his helpless brother, only unfired until Mouser gave the go-ahead. From twenty feet in the air he wouldn't have options, in his case to prevent the inevitable should the rodent make that call. Inside, he desperately appealed to fate that his father's usual way of tending business would not postpone any act a fatal few seconds.

"I can't condense how disappointed I am right now," Bowser continued. "I never ceased to think of you with value, as you always were before you left my service. You could have lived out the rest of your retirement with assurance. The pledge of my protection."

"Protection!? ", Mouser laughed ironically. "The shield I need is from you, LONG before this! I hope you prosper on the use of my arsenal; If I did what you want me to and wussed out, would I wind up at a firing line of my own damn rifles? Or did you melt down my AK's to make axeblades? Get some of that tensile alloy for your choppin' block!! "

Bowser, innocent of his accusations, looked on in a 'walled' state. "I have nothing of yours. Would revenge for what you think I've done be enough to kill for?"

The rodent laughed; goosebumps tracked the king's and his sons' spine. "No. This was supposed to be lucrative. But you're now in the picture..." He glanced back at Roy before more was monologued. "... Fuck that, I'd much rather waste your bouncing baby-bombed-out right here, just to see your look as he falls."

Ludwig knew it was now or never to be a hero. Turning to the Troopas, he mouthed the word "Lower!" to the one that glanced at him, and anchored to jump as the ship lost altitude.

They had gone three more feet when Mouser's wide eyes let the eldest prince know he foretold the idea. Vinnie stood eager to deliver the headshot, and Mouser smugly nodded to him. Ludwig's heart nearly stopped.

"NOOOOO!!!" With no concern for self-safety he leapt the side, over Vinnie below.

He saw the next moments in slow motion; frantic yells of his father and the brush of claws against his pants leg, an unsuccessful aborting; the feel of wind and his stomach as he spilled down to Earth; the hope and concern on a brother's face as it watched a sibling drop heavy on the armed magikoopa. Their crash on the ground coincided with both pain and the sound of gun's loud report. Looking up, he barely had time to see Roy on his feet, unscathed, before oncoming agony shut his eyes for him.

"LUDWIG!!" came his father's roar. He himself hopped out of the grounding ship. His impact from a mere four feet up caused a mini-shockwave, luckily getting Mouser off-balance as Vinnie rolled out from under a nonmoving Ludwig.

"WRETCH, DIE!! ", the magikoopa roared at Roy, too stunned by the suddenness to move. "YOU'VE LOST!! "

Through his shades, Roy saw darkly; the pistol's outline raised. He was facing the end when Bowser's arm came up behind Vinnie's back, knocking his head with the force to cave in his skull. A blood-leaking dent sent him limply to the ground... Cold iron fell from his hand.

Roy's smiling father watched as hope returned to his son's face. "Are you alright, son?"

Soon after, Roy once more alarmed them. "DAD!!", he screamed. "YOU FORGOT-"

He had to watch Mouser leap hard on Bowser's back, and wrap his grey, spindly fingers around thick neck. "Y' NOT GOIN' ANYWHERE, YOU FORK-TONGUED PRICK!!" He took great and toothy pleasure in the choking sounds, the strain emanating from Bowser's restricted airway.

Roy, heart fluttering, had to think on his feet. Vinnie's pistol lay only feet from his bloody head... Roy swooped down on it, rose and held it shakily while seeking the right moment. He'd have to be accurate, to catch Mouser while missing his father's neck.

Gulping hard, he fought the deathly fear of an error. With all the courage he'd ever known, he held breath and pulled the trigger.

Bowser and assailant went down hard. At first, it was folly to say which one had taken it, until Mouser leaned up, tortured, holding his left bicep. The bully prince hooted, finding he'd been true in his aim, but it was short-lived. He realized his father wasn't breathing.

"DAD!!", he bellowed, running over. Shaky legs knelt at Bowser's chest and administered crude CPR. "YOU CAN'T CHECK OUT!! NOT NOW!! AFTER ALL THIS!!" Tears streamed down his face. Gone to pieces, he tried to revive the fallen king... Amid one abdominal thrust, he felt a hard *crunch* on his cheekbone, checked to fall on his side from the tremendous force therein.

Once his eyes opened, the blurred double-image of Mouser towered over him, gloating despite red streams from a hole in his arm.

"You have lost," he growled, "And my boss be damned. I'm gonna like this more than you could know."

He raised the tight-balled fist on his good limb, put all of his might behind it as Roy looked on in terror. This blow would be punctuation to a three-strong series of murders, if Morton was unaccounted for when the remorseless rat left the scene. He froze by way of memories, years gone by with he and his... Pupils centered on the hand an instant away from coming down on him.

He heard it first; a deep, pulsing wave, like convective heat. Less than a drumbeat later, Mouser and his grin were wreathed in flames. Conflagrated screams pierced with difficulty the mass of fire; they persisted as Roy covered face in protection from intense heat, half-a-minute of burning. It grew faint, and hotness abated. Shaking but curious, his hands moved from his face.

Before him stood his father, with pride and trails of smoke rising from edges of his mouth. Between the men, a pile of blackened, charred flesh on and around a smoothly-stubbed pair of lower legs.

Needless to say Roy was overjoyed; he sprang to his feet. "YOU'RE ALIVE!! " he screamed, jumping over the remains of Mouser to embrace a saviour.

"Not unusual," Bowser quipped as he returned the hug; four arms were warm and tight on one another. "I thought it's common knowledge that it takes more than a few slimy hands to do away with me."

They released each other; the sunlight of Roy's expression faded. "Oh shit, Ludwig!" Both went at once to where the classical koopa'd fallen, bracing for the worst. It was slim consolation they found him upright, as he held his calf with gritted teeth.

"My leg...", he moaned as they approached him. "It's broken I think... *gasp* GOD..." Indicators shot up his knee-height, excruciating.

Bowser snapped fingers, despondent. Two troopas guiding their 'car' planted anchor, disembarked and ran to accept orders.

"Well what are you waiting for!?", the monarch steamed at them, "You see what's to be done here. And you'll be cautious as you can placing him in there. For every pain you cause, I'll repay it fivefold."

"Y-yyyes, your highness," they agreed, taking their spots on either end of Ludwig to slow-and-easy hoist him. Bowser supervised wearily as they transposed an audibly-hurt heir to the clown copter.

"So unnecessary. So senseless." He confronted Roy, and the limitless emotions on that face. "Their punishment is done, two more for the inferno. You're safe now... Verily," he held a weak smile, "From all but yourself."

Roy's bewilderment made a half-slain smirk. It was a cheap shot, no less at the time, but he well deserved it. Harmonious, he boarded with Bowser as they lifted off, back toward solace and palatial security.

Seeing vast upland wilderness showcased on a flight home, Roy had pleasant awe but for Ludwig sprawled on the floor, very conscious and suffering. It infinitely affected Roy that he and their father went to such lengths to rescue. Now, with the latter pretty much as unable to ignore the wound, true prices of his safety had bore their fruit.

"It's broken, alright," Bowser postulated, walking over beside Roy. "Clear-cut without my examining. Just allow him a few weeks, he'll be on his feet like new. Physically, after all this..."

Roy nodded, line-of-sight under his shades and over the side, in secrecy projecting. Swagger came a bit back. "Better be all the way. I got thanks to pile up for a loooong time. For you too, Dad. You pulled a Jack Bauer for my worthless ass."

Bowser smiled. "You're worthless if you believe yourself that. But if my own son's not worth my time, what's that say of me?"

When those words left his lips, both saw Ludwig lean slowly up. "I'm avake, you... Know. You can... Thank me now, and save ze trouble later." Pauses were for surges of pain, and their hearts hurt with him.

Roy wanted to smirk, as it was obviously humour, but he couldn't bring that on. Though Bowser did the right thing killing Vince in his defense, he'd unwittingly made extinct a piece of history. The robed gunman's choices in life inarguably brought this, but in Roy's mind it didn't serve him not to pine for what he knew as lost that day. Even had this not troubled him, there still survived the question of why Vinnie trusted him with the knowledge held of forgotten eras, predating his dynasty. Maybe... He expected Mouser, or himself, to fail all along, and saw importance of not letting the truth pass into nothing. Or perhaps he'd been decent deep down, mixed up in dark lines of work and committed. Either way, the goodness in Roy fueled sadness. The whole of the Chenra's chapter in history closed this way, with its premier survivor a fugitive bent on conquering the armies he hid from.

"D-dad...", Ludwig winced, "...Promise me something... After all of zis."

His father quickly, enthusiastically nodded. "Anything, my son, after what you've been to Roy and I today."

The cultured prince smiled weakly. "Promise me you von't send Larry and Lemmy avay. Trust your forces and allies to find Kamek, and let others stay vithin sanctuary. Please."

Bowser's heart went to shards as he processed the last few sentences. Without a word, he shuffled emptily to the side of the airship, looking over the fields and bluffs as if carrying the weight of worlds they flew above.

"That's the one thing I cannot do. Kamek's shown how little I can truly know about those who bow to me, and much as I detest the casualties, this changes nothing. It is mine as ruler to ensure the tragedy we missed today doesn't persevere by someone under our noses."

"No...", Ludwig whimpered, only now frail and letting his head fall back. "...Must it come apart around me?"

Hearing this, Roy's defense against breaking down was to do as Bowser did and refocus on the vista low and passing. But impressionable, his father's words pulled him back into the truth.

"I curse the day karma came to exist, my sons. In forty-eight hours two great friends have been reconciled, one to death at my own hands and one to sabotage. A child of mine sustained injury to save another from plots orchestrated by hell-knows-whom. And there's no question I should have to Morton's absence. He knew I'd be there, and it was clear for some time that his allegiance is more away from me than towards the both of you. Worst is that I know when I wake up tomorrow, we deal with trauma from this and the dread of what's beginning. The man who could help me most in crisis becomes he who my sons retrieve. The fate reserved for him would mirror that of Mouser's." He lowered head; eyes were shut and barely dry. "It can make a lesser man abdicate. Or worse."

Roy, averse to hearing it, wallowed in sorrow. His father's worries, as theirs, stretched on endless. The few that may be improved were blurry, make and outcome. And despite anxiety inherent, they were now in the most peaceful time they might see for very long indeed.

Roy took in what little comfort things could offer. He knew that for them to come out sane he would do his part, clean up his act. A time like this - or for that matter the future - compelled him. Sinking back into impulse would inflict disaster.

The first small step on a road, a heart's walk, winding steeper each hour.

*****************************************

"It's not fair! " she groused, bringing her petite fist to crack wood on her vanity. "My brothers are not spies and I won't sit here and watch them sent off to work they know nothing about!"

The times Wendy alleviated anger by yelling alone were few. Whether consciously or not, she reserved this self-therapy for troubles too immense to hold with grace; and it had been a while since adversity came close to what she now faced.

Shoulders slumped, hands lay flat on the cherrywood; her tantrum had merit in the mirror's reflection, but it helped none of what she'd like to. She couldn't even work to rid her mind of it; her boss had been informed she took the day off the minute she got summoned back to throne-ville. No sense in driving back to Le Baron to try and save face; today would bear no relief for a frayed mind, barring some unprecedented event, what now had to be therapeutic distractions... That is, if any could facilitate that in this such time.

A sure bet that Haley was out there right now, busting her ass; the castle's woes had little to change an outsider's life. She was the lucky one, to Wendy; she'd be out and about all day, diverted as the customers walked in one by one, while she counted down the hours 'til her family was 'down' two of their own.

Either case, she knew she wouldn't improve so long as she filled her uniform. Panting steam, she headed from vanity to closet, intending to sift through and pick articles that spent the least time on her of-late. Halfway to there, knocking hit her door, which didn't quite elevate her spirits.

"Cripes," she exclaimed and went to answer it, "If the world was ending, that would be the day I get the most company."

Scowling, she placed right-hand on the knob and yanked open. There, with large feet coyly together and left mitt to his back, the face behind the knock masked her unpleasantness. Surprise of the nicest order.

"Morie!", she yelled, staggering back a step, both hands on her chin. He started to reply, but before the first word formed she ran into his arms, wrapping her own to his back. He wore shock at her suddenness, but it became a smile as he returned the hug. She breathed, hummed some airy notes, drew back; her happy grin crumbled away.

"I have some items to talk about, mister," she rebuked, cutely as she centered on her feet.

Ever bashful, he laughed and weakly kicked one set of toes forward. "'Bout me and Todd, I'm sure."

"You do learn fast." She whipped her head back, running fingers through her hair. "You had Lemmy climbing the walls when he heard about you guy-ing it up in Deerfield. Wanna tell how you two hit it off, or will I have to drag it outta you?" She spoke the last few words with candor; no uncertainty attached.

Taking this as acceptable cue to enter, he stepped in and started telling. "That won't be needed. I was taking a walk about three blocks west of that pub when Todd met me on his board comin' the other way." He scratched his neck as he continued. "He recognized me, said he was headed somewhere for a few drinks, but didn't have a dude at least twenty-one that could come-with. He asked if I'd be up for it, and hell... I figured I should probably know your circle better."

She held her lips skeptically. "That's all well and good, but Todd's not my friend. We sorta know each other through Lemmy, so cast him off, I don't give a lick. Besides, the whole reason I asked you is that Lemmy's got me thinking you went behind my back to get the scoop on me, instead of being upfront about it, which wouldn't be taboo." She crossed her arms and cast a steely glare.

"No no no, that's not it at all, I swear. All me and Todd talked up was like, skateboarding and music, and Lemmy. There were stories, I just listened and didn't take 'em serious-"

"Hm." She softened very little. "I wouldn't mind knowing what they had to say. Better not be something ill against him."

He chuckled, eyes darting off with no ease. "Will you get off of me, please? Nothing secret or bad or crap like that's been said. Do I come across that dishonest?"

She kept facade intact a few more seconds, then sighed, dropping her arms. "No, you don't. Lemmy's just good at scaring the living daylights out of me. I heard it from you, that does fine."

"Well great. But..." Morie cooed, "Don't let him. I'm doin' my best to be a straight arrow, from kidhood up to now and you."

She weakened; her lips pitched down to his chest, not puckered but hiding in his brawn. She turned head; her cheek rest on him. "I am glad you're here. I don't know if word's spread about Larry and Lemmy but that's got me at wit's end right now, and I just need some anchor to keep from pulling out my hair."

"Don't you dare, it's beautiful," he joked, in step with her as she sat gently on her bed. "I did hear a lot walkin' through the halls. Did your father really put them up to that?"

"Put-them-up-to-that nothing. He stood us all in front of him and pretty much commanded them. They're maybe a few minutes away from what little training they'll get, just so they don't get dropped before the sun can even set. All because Daddy has trust-issues since Kamek played him for a fool."

"He played all o' you for a fool, years, from what I heard. They might kill me for saying this, but your Dad should look up the diff' between a headcase like him and the rest of the world."

"No argument here." They were situated next to each other; her smile beamed his way. "C'mon then, let's talk about something else... Like, how smooth you are. Where we are right now, without a word about it."

"... I think that's all you," he grinned, "And that forwardness of yours that I'm starting to dig."

"Heh... You don't say?", her cheeks colourized excitedly. He nodded. "Good", she exhaled, "Some can't stand it. I mean... The truth is, and you don't spread this around, boy, I've been broken-up-with before because the guy said I took charge..."

"Hahaaah... Well I'm about as forward as a draft-dodger", he retorted, "So we kind of have a reverse-role thing goin' on, I think? I'm down for-... I mean, I'm okay with that."

She laughed, letting it fade without a word. The silence wasn't long before he broke it again.

"I have a thing to ask you, and I... Hope I'm not borrowin' your personality by doing it."

"O...kay", she skepticized, "I'm all-ears."

He smirked widely. "You like art shows?"

Her eyebrow raised. "Not really a 'yes', but I don't mind them. Why?"

"There's one comin' up, a museum opens next Friday in Bainbridge I think."

He didn't go on, seeing her comfort fade as she drew into herself. "I-I can't, if you're saying what I think you are. I'm set to go there with someone else."

Concern overtook his expression; this had weight, and the suggestion of an interloper. "Who, If I can ask?"

To her, the truth was embarassing, but she knew her promise to Ludwig. Lies were armed. "Just an old friend from school. She moved away but she's back in town a week, and wanted to catch up before she's gone again. In college, y'know, a few towns from here."

He tilted head back, informing her that he believed not a word. "And what's this friend's name?"

She knew it as time to shift gears, and play another card. She sported faux-irritation. "I'm not sure I wanna tell you. It's my right as a princess and a girl, you know."

"Yeah, that's what you are alright, both." He laughed as a smile accompanied her scowl, finding this even funnier. She play-slapped the back of his neck. As humour died down, another silence settled; they looked away awkwardly, some causes for each. He soon glanced back to her. "Seriously, I wanna be more to you than an old school chum... Or chumette... Please, say yes. I'll do anything you want. Shovel mud, fine, can-do. Wear dog ears, you got it."

On her face appeared the goofiness, despite efforts not to let him in and that out. "Tempting. Trust me, I want to. It's that I made a promise, and that kind of thing's important to me."

He nodded, focused down at the floor. Nothing more he said; she saw him deep in thought, obviously things he didn't want to name. Maintaining, he rose still looking down, bent for the door. His glance only met hers when she took his hand, strongly. This made him stop.

"You just got here!"

He was distant inside, there-physically. "I really can't stick around, I have a thing in a while. You understand." He walked on again. "I'll call you." Her hand fell from him, a man on a mission. Sad once more, she watched him leave, shutting the door gently, shutting her off.

Next, her chin was in her hands, elbows on her knees. A mind once again in the depths of nerves. One more thing she could add to her list, a maze of burdens. She tried in vain, not to ignore them but to place them all. Inspect them, and through that where she stood.

"... Why do I feel like Lemmy's onto something," she whispered, bringing palm-lines to cup her forehead.

**************************************************************

"Mind explaining yourself?"

Tom's aggravated words rang empty in Morton's ear. At the latter's strong request, the car had done a 180 while in pursuit of Mouser, now headed back towards Koopa civilization. Morton hadn't seen fit to give reasons, but his understanding lover hadn't questioned, even in ensuing minutes when Bowser and Ludwig had essentially picked up where they'd left off. Now, Tom's polite trust wore thin, and his glance at a detached Morton after the inevitable query told the latter he wasn't accepting more prolongued silence. Sighing heavy, the jaded prince stared out the passenger-window, concocting a reply.

"Ludwig gave me every cause to believe he and Assface could handle things, so I took him at his word. Why risk a run-in with a dangerous jerk if I don't have to? You're here, it's more than me in the hotseat."

Tom shook his head in growing grief. "Assface? Do you hear how you sound?"

Morton beamed contempt at his lover, but Tom wasn't about to back down.

"Fine, look at me, but think outside us. For all we know their boots are dug in trying to save your brother. There's also just as much chance that they tried and failed, pushing up daisies in makeshift graves. Or just left on the bank like fallow weeds. But God forbid you have to face the one person in the world you're sick of."

The bluntness snapped Morton out of all remaining indifference, as his glance gave way to an incredulous stare. "I cannot believe you said that to my face. Whose side are you on here?"

Tom remained unfazed. "The side that can carry on a normal chat with you and not have it marred when your father comes up. And he does, organically, it's sure as the sunrise. God as my witness I try to support, but I can't do shit if you're gonna keep holding yourself down. I understand all you've ever said about him, I really do. But I can't pay the price for his sins, the way I feel I am when I watch you sink in despair more and more, and talk about other shit less and less, because that's so what you do. Come off it for five minutes and live outside the past, and see what life becomes for you."

Morton was aghast. He tried to process what he'd just heard. Tom showed a side that rarely came out, and at another time his purpose in this might have been appreciated; however, it didn't strike him how ill his mini-tirade had been timed.

"Really!?", Morton shot back. "How easy do you think that is if your father was the goddamn king!? When you get out of bed every morning wondering where in the daybreak news his picture is, or what all the other subjugated media will do to kiss his ass before your head hits the pillow that night?" Tom's brow raised as he realized how flustered his comments made Morton. "I know you don't keep up with the headlines," He went on, "But for three weeks straight I've had to stare at a blurb, more than one outlet, about a statue at the city square they're building, his image. They're following construction right down to the last nose hair. I might as well be in a fascist dictatorship, to put up with that kind of hero worship for a devil-incarnate." A lump in his throat bade him pause. "I try the best I can to hold my head high because I care, for no one but you, knowing I can't completely put him aside, I never will. I'm pretty sure I've had a breakdown long ago, and it's not getting easier. Nothing's muffled, I see convictions of how the stupid public looks to him like a god. It's got to where the only way I'd completely clear my mind of him would be to live in seclusion, swearing off creature comforts to take up residence in some forgotten corner of the countryside, away from all he cared enough about to stamp his likeness on. Why do you think I ached to get away so much today?"

Tom, though listening and concerned, was still not resigned to agree. "You weren't going to get me out in the wilderness indefinitely, if that's your idea. If you really did have a breakdown, that you need therapy or meds for. My undying support just ain't cutting it for some reason."

Morton laughed coldly. "Perish the fuckin' thought. I'm not about to take chill pills to simulate happiness, not when the background's real. But that aside, I didn't mean I plan to keep you in the middle of nowhere while I mend myself. I'd never expect that kind of sacrifice from you. Not just from how little you perceive the whole picture."

Tom huffed, authentically angered. "Is that supposed to mean something?"

Morton's head shook lackadaisically. "Just means I know better than to think you're me." He looked down, lips bitten in anxiety. "But drop that shit already, I can tell we only piss each other off if it goes on." Breathing out, he glanced back up to the road. "There's no detours we could hit to go around that megadrama behind us, is there?"

A peeved Tom still didn't feel like beating a dead horse, and shook his head. "Not 'til we're into the city. There, we could hit Route 132, but once it goes out in the country it runs by some pretty-infamous landowners. The Hatfield-And-McCoy type."

"... Wow, no thanks," Morton quickly supplied. "I'd rather cruise the ghetto back home than ride through Deliverance county." He straightened posture, as if resigned to something. "The apartment's be fine, for tonight. We can prep to leave again tomorrow, we'll have time to see what's happened and network with my brothers."

Tom slowly nodded, though not keen at all on the idea of not staying at home period. It didn't hurt his disposition that they now took curves at a much more sensible speed than in the midst of the 'death race', which had now been a catching-of-breath prior. They began to round another turn, easing through the radius while in stable silence. Mortin's eyes cast out his window, unfocused on the trees whizzing by his line of vision. Even for him, the day had been a long one, and he wasn't so full of unquenchable hate that he'd go on unworried for what had happened with Roy. Perhaps the biggest reason he'd be less a ball of nerves was the confidence in Ludwig's voice over the phone, mentioning the plans. And much as he despised his father, there was proof of his strength and wisdom to certain ends, if the eldest's intent had involved him in the rescue effort. Either way, what would've come of it most likely was done, and he had no will to turn the car's bearing to find out, preferring a quiet dusk at home to any more of a banal trek, even in borrowed wheels. Tonight would be a night to forget, and ease his mind... Perhaps by pondering how his druggie brother came to be in that pickle in the first place. There was nothing Morton could formulate with that wasn't worth a chuckle, cold as it may come off, but with someone like Roy, every day was an adventure for him and all involved.

As his mind began to drift, they completed the curve, his gaze still aimed at the passing woods. Because of his ignoring the road, he didn't see what emerged as the car lurched to a stop. His eyes shut hard at the annoying squeal of applied brakes. With jaw open in surprise, he looked first at his lover, seeing shock and fear etched on before turning forward to determine the cause.

His own reaction both developed and grew as he registered what his eyes were on. "What th-... Oh... F... FUCK!!"

Less than five feet distant on the asphalt, standing proud but worn in dirt-caked overalls, was the flipside of eternal grudge. His moustache, shapely though thick with mud and a slight tinge of red, but also with every drop of his famous pinache. To Morton and Tom, it appeared he'd been out in the countryside for a while, no one tagging along, no defense.

Then it dawned on him... This road ran direct between Grand Koopa City and what eventually hit the Mushroom Kingdom border. After running the fat plumber out of Deerfield, it would only make sense for him to take this route back to safety, as long and arduous as any path back to his home would be. Pure, uncanny luck that they'd run into him as he crosed the blacktop, but it couldn't be helped. It was easy to see that he knew exactly who sat in the passenger seat; and was likely more than a bit irked that a bullet had whizzed by his head at that same prince's hands in the first place, to make him return to his land empty-handed. Now in the grip of untold fright, Morton froze as their eyes met, and he came aware of his sworn foe's provoked sneer.

In a flash, he stomped the hood of their car, thanks in no small part to his jump-prowess. Tom winced as he heard the rental's metal buckle under weight and impact, and both he and his lover could only be an awe-exhibit as the most wanted man in their lives stepped heartily across the front of the stopped car, halting at Morton's side of the windshield. His eyes slitted; he raised his fist, and in one quick blow shattered the glass, sending it flying as Morton raised hands in defense of his face.

Once the palms lowered, he almost screamed... Mario's countenance breathed inches from his own, and in no natural mood to let bygones be bygones as his paunch went in and out with every angered air-load.

"Three-a horrible days," the plumber wheezed in his thick brogue, "No food. No water. Only-a walking back to safety. I-a hate your kingdom." Morton was petrified, and this bolstered the hero's nerve, already in high gear from the time he'd spent trying to navigate and survive.

"But," he continued, "Now that I'm-a lookin' you straight on, I got a proposition. Take me to Bowser, and don't try anything-a funny, and you'll see another day." His puffed cheeks quivered in ire; he didn't quit his dagger-eye to the spawn of his nemesis. "And if you think I'm-a joking, remember last time, And-a the time before that? Capiche?"

Morton's knuckles were white as could be imagined. His neck's nape ran with icy sweat. He had little choice in the matter; even desheveled, Mario was a force of one, a bomb-in-shoes to be reckoned with, moreso when the prince had nothing near the upper hand in this moment, numb and yellow around broken glass as the plumber stood stalwart over him. It would take a miracle to swing power to his side, or at least some hastily-crafted genius.

And then it hit him.

What had Mario just asked for?... And what was the source of most all his trepidations?

This epiphany sufficed; it bade him visibly relax once it all entwined within his mind. Tom, though transfixed by Mario, was conscious enough of his other half to notice immediate change in demeanor. For several clammy breaths, it baffled him, but the implications cleared... Frighteningly so. His jaw hinged even wider, and began mouthing several words.

"No, Morton..." His pitch gradually went audible. "Please, no..." Mario, upon hearing the second part, shot him the most evil of a hero's stares, and any thoughts of expanding the point died fast. The deed was done.

As the Mushroom Kingdom's saviour again turned to Morton, the latter's smirk was now more noticed than before. Hardly nervous at all, he spoke with no waver in tone. "Well, get in the back, then. Let's make this the express taxi to a pow-wow with Daddy dearest."

Tom was aghast, powerless to act as he saw the strange relief in Mario's face. Warily but without delay, the plumber eased over Morton's left shoulder between the seats, into the back. The Koopa prince gave Tom a hand gesture he could only interpret as commanding surrogate obedience.

The muscled Koopa knew that as the commoner he was in truth, he had no arguable choice. Despite how at-odds the King stayed with this son, there was certainty that willful refusal to the latter's orders would still be an offense, badly punished, just for the stake of royal pride and to make an example.

All at once, Tom regretted never seeing how Morton was genuinely troubled. In the span of time they'd been together, he sank untold energy into love for the closeted noble, vainly trying to assist him conquering his demons. Morton had been steadily worse, as resentment and the talk of its cause had only grown, seemingly with each passing week. Now, at last, they overpowered his very will, making him denounce what common loyalty he'd shared in possessing. The country, its strength, no longer meant shit to him, in the face of possibly settling a score, and from this the rest of his family and loved ones would be the first casualties. No... Tom knew he was no longer in the presence of trust, or a confidant, so much as a stranger with a clashing mind, warped through hate borne of years in anguish. Suffering had consumed him, suffering would consume what he touched.

Slow, with a stone-heavy heart, Tom did as he knew he had to, and put the car in-gear. They set off towards the city as they had been, with one mind-melting difference: Public Enemy Number One, taxied, with unquestioning support from his jaded lifemate.

It was both easy and warranted to doubt - as he well did - just how much of their shaky bond could be salvaged after that such point.

******************************************************

Though Lemmy had every call to be as scared for himself as Larry, he wasn't. Too many distractions vyed for control of his mind, and none were clearly winning. Standing alone in his room, eyes half-closed, he watched his right foot move his skateboard mindlessly forward and back, the left foot planted still as his thoughts. With head tilted sharply down, hair obscured parts of his vision field, but he no more acted on that annoyance than on anything around him. Leaving wouldn't be so bad, at least for someone with his level of lust for adventure, but to leave with worries for Wendy intact would easily leave joy out. The trip would have its heartrending hues.

None of his clique had bothered to ring him today, save for Todd, the only one he had no urge to greet warmly. He started to wish Todd would call again, to provide an opportunity to chew him out and hang up. At least that might resolve something inside.

Tiring of half-assed messing with his board, he rolled his foot forward, sending the toy away at a decent speed. His reaction was nothing as it hit the wall with a dull "THUD" and rolled back slightly, fully stopping. He was used to there being two or three guys around to bullshit with, but he had no balls for that now. Even to be nurtured by closer folk would be futile; were any of his family to knock on the door for the same support they'd offered Larry, it would fall on deaf ears. He didn't need nor want their sympathy. The decision he'd readily made, in a clear mind. All he wanted was thanks for saving them from what likely not one would appreciate, at least the decent amount warranted.

Still traversing the depths of his subconscious, he heard a knock's sound on his door.

Though he glanced momentarily towards it, his head soon lowered again. He chose against answering, waiting instead to see if the party in question would insist. If not, he could just go back to shuffling emptily, as he wanted only to right now.

The seconds passed, and Lemmy almost thought he'd be left alone after all, but then came another rap on the wood panel. "Hey, it's Larry. Open up." the prince followed.

Drained of will, Lemmy knew he couldn't well turn away the one person who'd be along this uncertain future, and slowly walked over to invite him. Larry's countenance was pale as soon as visible; it appeared the methodone was not the end-all solution they'd thought. "Time to go," he muttered, making Lemmy switch to looks of confusion.

"What do you mean, 'time to go'?"

"I mean I was just told to bring you to the empty ballroom. Colonel Triclyde is meeting us there, to start us on our training."

"But... It's been a fucking hour, if that!"

"Yeah, you're preachin' to the choir, but Dad left word that we'll have to scoot a little sooner than planned. Now, c'mon." He took Lemmy's hand and started to lead him out of the room, but the latter slipped free from his grip.

"Whoa, slow the hell down. By 'left word', you mean he's not here?"

"Yeah, that's what Hawkbill said when he paid a visit five minutes back, the same for me as I'm doing right now. He said Dad left in a hurry after a call from Ludwig, and gave him instructions to fetch us. He was gonna be the one to tell you, but I talked him into letting me after how you stormed out the throne room. I might be a fuckhead but I know diplomacy."

Lemmy glanced down, turning pink at the cheeks. "Yeah, there had to be a story for why it's you, not some servant like usual."

Larry nodded. "You were pretty tore up over Wendy. I won't say more about it, though; why piss you off even more than you are."

"... Nah," Lemmy waved a lazy hand, switching mindsets, dealing as best he could. "Don't worry, I'm mostly better anyway. Now, I'm just up to split, and try to make some kind of fun from this huge joke of a plan."

"Noooo argument here." Larry's palms lay flat-vertical before him, comically. He watched Lemmy walk over to his board, flip it up with his foot and catch with his hand. His eyebrow quickly raised.

"You're not thinkin' of taking that, are you?"

Lemmy looked down at the board, then back at his brother with a meek smile. "Why not? It may come in handy, it's transport."

Larry crossed rams and looked on skeptically. "Not unless Kamek's hiding out in plain sight on a sidewalk."

Seeing Lemmy's spirits sink a tad upon that, he slowly lowered arms, muting exasperation. "Okay, fuck it. I'm not Dad, do what you want. Just get a move on, 'cause the last thing I want to happen just before we leave is getting cussed out for bein' late to our own briefing."

Lemmy chuckled slightly. "Bro', we're regal. Who the hell would ever cuss us besides Dad?"

"Someone Dad gave clearance to do that very thing to, if he knew he'd be gone. Now, haste," he smiled, "You're gonna make me look bad."

This bought a chuckle from Lemmy; he followed his youngest sibling out, down the hall for a fate yet-unknown. His mood began to lift somewhat, as anticipation replaced preoccupation within him; a few steps behind Larry, he cracked a grin.

"You did say Colonel Triclyde, didn't you?"

"Yeah, it's news to me, too." Larry snickered. "God only knows how that unwieldly freak moved up the ladder. From what I remember of his Sub-Con days, it'll be an interesting time takin' lessons from him."

Lemmy's smile held for several more moments, but then went to dissolve. "Can I ask you something, bro?"

"Tch, no need to ask if. Shoot."

He paused for a moment. "Are you not scared at all? I mean, I'm not nervous, but damn, what the hell is this going to even be like?"

Larry looked to the side, his profile showing a sort of wisdom to Lemmy. "It'll be like saving our family and our country from a wand-wielding madman, because that's exactly what we're doing." He waited a second or two before continuing. "Still nervous?"

"Y-yeah," Lemmy laughed, "I think you made it worse. Thanks bunches."

Both cackled as they made towards the staircase to the castle's posh party haven. They traversed this remainder in silence; both were jittery for seperate reasons, only made worse by the fact Bowser wasn't around. At a time like this it was disconcerting, his absence from their monolithic homestead for whatever reason. With their present states, the complexities of the labyrinthic building ignited some kind of insecurity... Within them, a feeling that hearkened back to younger, shorter, meeker days.

For this only, the journey to the ballroom couldn't seem too short. Its entrance was a pair of French-style double doors, smaller but more intricate than its throne-room counterpart. It did welcome one to a venue for the socialites and well-to-do, but now it only projected waste to Larry and Lemmy in the face of its present use. Though both were well-aware of the concern for time, they felt the need to halt at this entrance, and in doing so switch glances between the doors and each other.

"I guess this is it, then." Larry spoke in low tones. Lemmy nodded, showing more chutzpah than either truly felt. Each pushed open one of the ornate panels.

As the room was revealed, the purpose in its choice above all other space in the castle made more sense. Two sets of banners with designs - bullseyes - hung on the far wall, spreading left and right repectively from its center; surely makeshift targets. As both sets neared the side walls, their size shrank progressively, the last being no more than a fifth the first's size. Additionally, the room's only three occupants were two elite troopas, standing at attention on either side of the room at the smallest banners, and Triclyde himself, in profound Colonel's garb whose limbholes were altered to fit his three independent heads. It spooked both the brothers to see all six of his eyes fall instantaneously on them when they came in view.

"Larry... Lemmy," The middle head spoke formal as they approached him, "It's a pleasure to see you doing well."

"Yes, I'm sure Dad told you it would be," Larry chided, thinking a joke was an acceptable way to soften this stiltedness. Triclyde's stoic stare sent home that it hadn't been received in the spirit intended.

"Let me set one thing straight here," he continued, every bit of his manner like the stereotypical striped-shirt, a warmonguerer. "I'm not your friend, I'm not your whipping boy, and I sure as HELL aren't the same trifling shmuck at the totem pole's bottom. As you well-see, His Highness learned how capable I am, and gifted me the temporary BUT FULL authority to address you as my unders, for the sake of better training you. And so you don't have to learn the hard way, with the deep shit this whole country will swim in 'til you find that fiend, expect me to drive you like dogs the SECOND you cease cooperating."

The Koopa prince's jaws almost hit the floor. Before they could even collect their thoughts, Triclyde's leftmost head picked up where the middle one had left off.

"But, you can also count on my support, should the next few hours wear on you. Your readiness is crucial, but so is your morale, and I will protect and feed your outlook, as it makes huge marks in anyone's performance under pressure." The word 'I' had been spoken distinctly; it was obvious the three heads all housed different personalities. 'No wonder Larry said it'll be interesting,' Lemmy thought.

They chose to remain silent, their childish sides curious of how the third head might behave. They got their answer.

"We'll be covering mucho-detail in a short amount of time, effective stealth techniques, use of weaponry, sniping skills. Of course, the last two are muy-muerte and more than a little specialized, so I'll guide you through most of the finer points. Safety and accuracy are top priorities to both Bowser and myself, comprendè?"

They nodded, wordless, blown away by what they heard sprinkled in.

"Now then," the middle head picked back up, "We have oodles of things to touch on, in less time than it takes a roast to cook, but I'm required to ask if you have questions. So if so, it's now or never."

They had nothing prepared, so for many moments they looked down and at each other, trying to think up anything they might regret forgetting later. At length, Lemmy thought of the rather-obvious and came forward with it.

"Can none of our family be with us, to make this a bit less - you know - daunting?"

The colonel immediately guffawed, much to Lemmy's chargrin. "Hell. No. You need to concentrate and soak in everything, and you'll be working with guns. Don't make me elaborate."

A sparkle left Lemmy's eyes. It was now canonized that any part of the next few hours was no jaunty advnture. He and his brother looked past Triclyde, to the makeshift targets on the wall. Just the need for a thing like that was disturbing; and without loved ones around, their sweaty palms were alone every step of the way, by design.

Crestfallen, Larry sighed in sad endurance of the state of things, and put one foot forward. "I have no questions. Let's just get this over with."

Triclyde's heads tilted back, such official superiority. "Excellent. If Lemmy has nothing more, we can start."

Doe-eyed, suppressing fear, Lemmy stood frozen for an extended while. Finally, he garnered courage to act, and followed Larry in stepping forward.

A self-satisfied grin wound Triclyde's fangs. "Agent-in-training Larry, agent-in-training Lemmy, welcome to the service of the crown."

To them it sounded more hollow than anything they'd heard in their life.

******************************************************

"Okay, I want the whole story. All that happened from the moment they locked eyes."

"I'm... Not really sure of the scope, sir."

"WHAT!? Why not?"

"Well, there were no witnesses. By the time I'd reached the scene, all that was left behind was Vinnie's body, the abandoned SUV and a pool of some sort of black and grey goo. Vinnie's head was caved in, and there were traces of Mouser's hair in that same pool, but we've no word on his location as of right now."

"...*Sigh* Wonderful. Two invaluable operatives, gone. If Roy escapes my clutches again, your head will find new use as an ashtray."

"You... Don't mean you're going to try again, sir?"

"Of course I am, you pinheaded wanker. He has a bright and purposed future, with me, and I have reputations to uphold. Give me around twenty-four hours, and more of your worthless time assisting me, and I'll be back on his tail in nothing flat. I can't afford him to slip through my fingers. Right now, prepare the limo. We're stepping out to take another look at the scene, since you didn't search to see exactly how and when they fucked up. I'm not repeating a mistake like that."

"Yes, sir."

"Bring Vinnie's papers also. Now that he's a stiff, there's a few parts of his history I'd like to thumb through, for my own peace of mind."

"Yes, sir. Immediately."

To be continued...