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KOOPALINGS : THE TEENAGE YEARS

by Foxy Boy

CHAPTER IX: THE TORTURED TRUTH

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

Hums of an engine were the break for an unbearable silence. Having two guns centered on the back of your head would make any spirit sink, especially they whose life was already in the pits. To Roy, it was a lose-lose situation; die horribly or live to see another day's dependency. He knew that if he missed the chance to use within a few hours, he'd be in Larry's shape... And no methodone for the symptoms. And death was an unwelcome reprieve.

He could do nil but stare emptily at the upholstered floor through his dark lenses that, to him, now represented a man that might never again be seen around the kingdom. Further and further from the castle's safety, a first-time worry struck him: what legacy he'd leave. What kind of life he led, and left behind. Of course, the truth of that was far from comfort, similar to his knowledge that it took a deed like this to show him how far he'd slipped. More than likely he'd get to fix none of what he'd done wrong, let alone say goodbyes to the few people that genuinely suffered him. All were within the walls of that same castle, not panicked, unawares. They were used to his straying for days-on-end, they would probably dismiss the 'troubled one's' absence as his latest ungodly bender. After that would come the grief when the truth came to light. He became, in this moment, unselfish: "It ain't fair that everyone should have to find out", he thought. "I'm gettin' what karma sees to, not worth the wet that'll hit their faces. And even on the prayer that I do survive, I'm far-gone. I set paths long ago. Can't get it together, even for my own damn good."

The road they sped down was full-freeway for most of their run, but soon swung back to suburban design, intersections, turnouts, traffic. As they approached a gas station, Mouser braked, nonchalantly switching on the turn signal.

"'K, prince," he growled, "I'm stoppin' for a quick piss and a few refreshments. You'll sit where the fuck you are and be quiet. If you don't, Vinnie can have his fun. Sweet lead in your forehead, AKA his fortè."

The car, now in the parking lot, rolled up on a space and halted. Mouser practically jogged into the store portion. Vinnie, of course, remained vigil on Roy, whose fear-sweat ran cold and profuse.

"Well, well", the still-unseen gunman boomed behind him, "Of the most powerful family in the land, reduced to a fly on a frog's tongue. I would smile, had I teeth."

Roy's eyebrow raised, cautiously trying a chat. "You-you don't have teeth?"

"A string of bar brawls. Mouser's the business end of our duo, but I'm less... Cordial, so I find some hard knocks. Wonder why I care to say this?" Roy weighed the moment, and decided to nod. The man answered. "I've always liked your style. I'll let you talk, but remember-" he stopped to press the barrel of one of the guns hard against Roy's skull, "-You'd be wise to watch what comes out."

The koopaling fealt close to a heart attack. He pressed down his right from within, knowing it'd be good to formulate some loaded questions; long as he didn't ask stupidly. This sketchy situation might be better-known, or fought. "W-well," he peeped, "You're cool for treatin' me that well, if you're contracted other ways. How far do we go?"

"A few miles. Might be about twenty minutes, if that. Our boss picked a special meetup he was sure you'd appreciate."

"Um... May I, uh, ask why?" he was frigid in fear.

Vinnie paused before answering; cocked the gun, but nothing happened more than Roy just jumping, then restraining that in case he tipped someone off and didn't live past a rebuttal. "It won't matter to me if you know or not, but to him it does. Surprises for you. Think of it like Christmas." A sick joy from the gunman, plus a sick pallor in Roy's cheeks.

The words were tumbled inside him. He'd done business with a certain scrub for many months, and each time the mystery man was just that, hemmed by shadows or disguised in heavy clothes that showed a mouth and eyes, many run-ins... The latest, in darkness of an alley dumpster. So he made rounds under wraps, but Roy never expected more. To the bully prince, bad news; proof positive he'd never go home, divulge the details of his kidnapping, its mastermind.

In light of this, his reflex was brave and yet natural; to simply quit caring what he said, if it wouldn't matter anyway. "Vinnie", he asked, with a good bit more lung-push, "How long have you been in this work? Of doing what you're doin' right now, I mean."

Never had a sigh been more wary. "Twelve years. What's it to you?"

Roy needed to tread carefully. "Does it pay well?"

"... Reasonably... Not for you, though, if you want recommendations. Your status, you could NEVER hunt. That many eyes on you from all directions you'd be found out the first night. In fact, the only reason Mouser pulled this off is to be your papa's ally for years, get in and learn how he operates. We're avoiding military patrols the city-over, checkpoints. If the king spots that you're gone through any spy we blow by, all of 'em go looking for you, under every stone. So excuse me if I'm happy we're safe from that."

Roy was mystified by part of one of his sentences. "Wait... There's places here full of Dad's spies, just on the norm?"

Vinnie chuckled. "For being his son you know shit about royal business. Even I knew this dump is bugged, and I've never been under him."

Roy, in his mind, refuted that, having Dad's ego by-proxy to think they all were under him. "Well," Roy went on, convincingly glumly, "We - my bro's and I, and Wendy - aren't really aides or soldiers. That's like the worst mistake people make, we're not 'elite' with him. We shut up and glorify."

"Typical. His way, seeing how he came to be king."

Roy perked up. "You... Know how he got to that?" It may've sounded like a fallacy, Roy's ignorance of that. It wasn't.

Vinnie laughed. "I'm an old man. Was a li'l smoother of chin when the kingdom was Wart's, and his legion's."

Roy gasped. He'd heard of Wart... The amphibious head of Sub-con, and the only king to tussle with Mario and co. besides his own. It had been years ago he'd fallen to the plumber, a brother and their two busom buddies, Peach and Toad. Nowadays, the frog was rarely spoken of, except to make points out of great failures. But to hear more out of Vinnie, Roy knew the little white lie he'd now tell.

"I don't think I remember Wart." he played as if wracking his brain.

"No shit," Vinnie gossled, "God knows how puny you were when he was alive. But I love the story, it's a perfect-10 intrigue, I'll let you in on it. You're sorta part of it anyway, with an added bonus you'll never tell a soul." He cleared his throat, with Roy's eyes fixed forwards at the store.

"Wart was the last head-of-state from a society going back millenia. They call themselves The Ancient Ones, and believe their forebears were all-powerful Chenra, or Magikoopas who drew their strength not from wands and wisdom, but the elements themselves. Legend says that what's now the present-day kingdom of Bowser used to be a flat, dry lakebed. The Chenra, thinking the land held promise under their abilities, banded together. Raised the land up out of its plain and fruitless state. Their descendants say they created the mountains that circle the city, and 'healed' the ground, infused it to bring forth great harvests. About seventy years ago, one of their descendants, Hyam, tarnished himself by falling in love with Queen Revia, the frog queen of Water Land. From this union came Wart, and he was raised to someday be a mighty king and credit to his lineage.

"Of course, Hyam's kind still owned this land, and with them he'd fell out of favour marrying Revia. They weren't about to smile on an illegit nephew with control of their birthright. But the bloke was strong-willed, and forecast the day his son sat on the throne and ruled inhabitants of what was then the modest town of Choopa... Their term, translating to 'Chenra's town'. Hyam meant to do away with those that opposed him, and open the way for Wart's claim. Over the years, this budded... Plots developed.

"He sought his loyalists, who now made up a parliament governing the land. Convinced them of the benefits to hold a festival to honour their ancestors, yearly, in summer. They deliberated, agreed, and the first Choopa Festival commenced on a field outside the town weeks later. Damn thing would make Mardi Gras look like a youth group occasion. There were games of honour for the men, showcases for the women and their art, paint or fabric, brilliant or not. It culminated in a giant feast... But the centerpiece and theme of the day were eight medallions, each of precious metals mined from under prosperous lands, and each engraved by the most skilled smiths. They bear likenesses of the eight Chenra beasts that were said to be the very founders, the first of them and us. The revelries came to be known as the Festival Of The Eight Seals.

"Parliament was pleased at the success of this for long afterwards, an acceptance Hyam would manipulate. Seven years after the first feast, he came to them with a new 'suffix' to honour the eight embossed on their seals: A fireworks display that would end on a magical note. This lent skepticism, but after he told them of how the makings were a sorcery native to here, not a volatile gunpowder variety, he had their blessing to follow through at the next festival-"

Roy coughed. He heard heavier breathing, and sat super-hushed through the rest of his earful-ordeal.

"The day came soon enough; that years' shindig was highly anticipated. Attended by all but the youngest kids, right up to the explosive visual marvel. This 'spin' they held last, at sunset's end. Hyam personally oversaw training of the Chenra-priests to carry out the show, but had made sure the knowledge he dispensed in how to go about it was tainted. Y'know, marred with choice inaccuracies, to sabotage. As their time came, all were quiet, and the first munition emerged from the huddle of presenters with success, earning gasps and applause from the people.

"But the exhibition turned visceral. There wasn't time enough for one to dissipate before another took its place, and being magical in make their energy could feed off each other's. Every booming report was bigger and hotter, and the priests didn't stop. They did what they'd been taught, and presumed it was all for show. By the time it neared the end, cracks were deafening and filled the whole sky. Townsfolk were too held by fear of the inescapable thundering to spot that Hyam wasn't there, neither were his wife or child. As the show geared up, they'd slipped out clandestinely to the safety of Revia's domain, Water Land.

"The display came to a head as the priests did Hyam's instructions, unifying their powers for a massive finish. It went off, its own power combined with the build of that preceding it... The result? An encompassing sphere of fire that arced, and in a hellish second detonated." He laughed, the way one does to get across amusement at a cruel truth. "Talk about cataclysm. Sending out a flare-shockwave that blew away everyone and everything on the field, sparing the empty town, as Hyam had engineered. In the time it takes to throw a baseball the whole adult populace was wiped from the Earth, save for one cursed soul: the nursery's attendant, the sole witness. Chick had been tending the children when she heard the gruesome setup and watched through a window as it unfolded. The fire-trails, ash and electrified soot, the smell of burned skin and sulfur.

Roy let off a noise not unlike a high coo, forgetting his 'macho'-ness in disbelief. This gunman-history buff had come off as easygoing, until this second seen interruption. Roy's scalp caught the cold punch of a pistol-whip. The man spoke louder than Roy's ears rung. "Take in your history, chump. You don't want this class to be out." Roy nodded, showing all body language that he'd stay receptive. Anonymous-whipper picked back up.

"So the chick's grief, imagine it. It's what two soldiers observed, sent from Water Land hours later. They didn't come to soothe her, or with food, or for conjugal turns - wasted chance if you ask me - but brought a wagon with them. They rounded up her and the children, carted them to Hyam, Revia and young Wart, who had re-entered the city after the blast, and set their flag. The kids became the first subjects of a new kingdom; Hyam christened it 'Sub-con', short for 'Subordinate Conference', a cheeky jab at the small lot of survivors, no more than your average boardroom panel.

"The babies had it worst. Got forced to wear body-covering bags and white masks to signify lost hope, their inferiority to the new monarchs, dictators of Sub-con and Water Land. To increase the peasants in their new, green domain, Hyam shipped entire populations, just assloads of creatures indigenous to Water Land to Sub-Con. The Tweeters, the Birdos, Ostros and the Ninji. These newcomers, blind to the young Chenra's being 'reborn' as the hopeless Chi- corrupted the name as 'Shy', or the 'Shy guys', and the term stuck. After Wart reached his eighteenth year, Revia's heart turned, pining for her old, watery domain; she left Hyam in Sub-Con, exiling him from Water Land while she reassumed her crown. The girl who'd overseen the nursery on a fateful night was matured now, of a good age. Hyam was in-effect divorced from Revia, so like a boss, took the woman as a mistress. Fast-forward nine months and the scribes announced the illegitimate child, whom Hyam named 'Kamek', Chenra for 'He who is second'.

"Kamek was born titled as prince, exempt from the law of self-shame as a 'Shy', but without the schooling every Chenra had before their clan's reduction he couldn't harness the elements. Ol' Hy' saw how limited his son was in reaching potential, and had some top scientific minds in the now-established Sub-Con create a wand that, on command, could issue power from its user's own being. Kamek took it with open arms, practiced to the point of its full-albeit-finite ceiling.

"Soon the word got through to Revia that her still-technically-groom was involved with a younger woman of his race. A blackheart-bitch like her had one mode: be furious. She repealed the exile on his head, brought him before her in the Water palace and watched as her guards ran him through with spears. Next on her plate was to sever all ties with her bastard-son Wart, citing she wanted no reminders of a whoremongering husband. She likely would have Wart killed as well, if not for how he took after her; saved by vanity. So Water Land and Sub-Con split as kingdoms, the only link for them being subjects 'borrowed' in one case.

"Hyam, in his brutal life, had gave what little compassion he had to his mistress, and so at news of his assassination she was never the same. And Wart wanted nothing to do with her, he saw her as the motive of his father's murder. Out of anger came resistance, she recruited choice Chi to teach about the old ways, giving them freedom in her presence to dress as the people they were in exchange for time and fealty. They loved her through her teachings, and from this The Ancient Ones rose from its ashes. Dressed in traditional robes of old, their purpose was now to honour the past unknown among the alien races of Sub-Con, and the other Chenra, still disguised as Shyguys, nonprivy to the old ways.

"But Kamek discovered them, and his own past through them. He agreed to join, and by wand and wicked privelege proved to be their greatest member. Though he accepted them, he'd been raised to follow in his father's footsteps, just as calculating. Through the wand that he alone carried, he betrayed with a spell over The Ancient Ones, tricking them to swear allegiance in exchange for his protection. He became their king, using knowledge of how his wand was forged to craft ones for all of them, an abbreviated form of the magic he commanded. In essence they shifted to a cult, whose every move and want was by Kamek, nothing else.

"Now he went to Wart, expecting the fresh monarch to welcome his new army of Chi, the 'good' their wisdom could do for the kingdom, if they were allowed to live as distinct, autonomous from harsh rules that governed Shyguys. But Wart harbored hatred like the late Hyam, and marched Kamek and his followers out of the city, to settle on adjoining land that lay black and desolate, unrenewed from the trick that killed so many Chenra. Kamek was a force to reckon, but not yet enough to oppose Wart's forces, so he and the rest obeyed and took on parched grounds. Their new home's history was all the more cause to use the elders' good name to enforce his will; he made his cult obsessed with the sanctity of memories, days that had been. He obtained the eight seals that bore the eight of legen; recognized their meaning from things his father told of this desolate land, and worshipped through hate of Wart and the rest of Sub-Con. By looking to the eight as gods he denied Sub-Con their tribute, and desecrated graves of the noble.

"It was he that had the last laugh, when soldiers from a faroff land marched on the continent, seizing all they laid eyes on. They were a race similar to the Chenra, turtlelike, but with hard shells and the heavy advanced armour they rocked in battle. Pretty much impossible to fight off with the more primitive means by local kingdoms. They called themselves Kappas... When they absorbed Sub-Con, this was corrupted with 'Choopa' and went forward as 'Koopa'. Their spread would shame the Roman Empire... Territories were captured, occupied, no time wasted in subduing resistance. Just a matter of time before Sub-Con's last rebels fell, and on this eleventh hour Kamek achieved a plan beyond any of his father's. He and his entranced men would submit to them and offer the help that Wart turned away. Through this, he ensured their survival and dominance as allies of the Koopa ranks.

"His plan was worthy; the Koopas absorbed The Ancient Ones, the adults were renamed 'Magikoopas' for similarities to them, maybe not the most abstract name. The kids, for some cockamamie reason, were named 'Toadies'. I mean I'm not a professor, so... Ah, fuck it. The shit was all in place, and Kamek, Koopas, swords and wands corroborated. Physical and elemental, conquerors in a supergroup. Wart was brought to his jelly-knees. The growing Koopa Empire had its own head, Bowser the fourth; he granted a groveling Wart a reprieve by sequestering the frog and his kind in a vast, blighted cove the other side of the mountains. It became the new Sub-Con, a dependant nation, spared as long as they paid dues and aligned with the Koopas. For years it was this, past the birth and ascension of Bowser the fifth. His father, afraid the heir to the throne might grow too strong-willed without guidance, appointed a personal advisor, citing how wise Kamek had proved himself and opened doors for them to this land. The new koopa prince, however, grew from haughty stock; gruff and stubborn anyway, and more than a bit impulsive; get offended if you want, there. So he married a commoner, then three children within a few years of each other. Before the next birth, Bowser the fourth was fatally poisoned; the culprit was hanged with little circumstance. The prince was now king, and had four more children in power. First item of business was to drop the "fifth" suffix from his name, to be simply 'King Bowser'. I think you know the rest, it's in your lifetime..." Gunman sneezed; Roy shuddered as the cold steel grazed his minutes-old bruise. "Mario leads his insurgence, Revia vanished right around when a castle was built there for Wendy. Suspicious? Maybe to a mortal."

Roy was at a loss for words, and though Vinnie still had guns trained on him, fear had nothing to do with it. At last, certain things for the bully prince added up; most relevant, the fact of why he'd heard next to none of this. Two questions remained, ones he saw as too important not to ask. Thinking on his doom left no regard for of how they'd be taken.

"Then... You love you some history, eh? Or... Where do you stand on the big picture?"

Vinnie grumbled a sharp note, taken aback by one of Roy's smarter moments. "If you care, you can turn around. It's not like I can't tag a fly on a cow's ear, if you bolt or try some funny shit."

A sweating Roy obliged, and came face to face with a wrinkled Magikoopa, robes faded and torn. As Roy got a good look, the old man cast a downward, forlorn glance, and lowered weapons.

"I was one of the original, an Ancient One before Kamek and your kind's era. I had eyes for wealth, got involved in organized crime, so they expelled me early-on. I missed exposure to the brainwash of my brethren. With no teaching of this land's past among Koopas - some actions Kamek took to keep his end of things curtained - no record of Chenratown's easy to come by. I may be only one who knows the way of Kamek's mother, save for that pharisee himself. You wanted answers for why I should bend your ear?" Few had looked at Roy so serious without a misdeed of his in mind. "You're a 'mark' my client wanted, but you're Bowser's son. I want the truth known about the land your father AND other tyrants think they own. Things I'm sure he'd not know of, or if he did, won't admit. Live a few thousand years and see if you don't have rare priorities."

The Koopaling processed all this; a tear streamed beneath his sunglasses. He knew the old man did a job, but at a harsh expense; unfair that none of his siblings would know of this, and that his father hid inheriting a land by death of a peaceful culture. Sudden, crushing sense... Kamek wanted to 'off' Bowser for absolute power, and hate stemmed from envy. The only reason Bowser'd lived to now was likely the small number of Chenra, the followers. A win took years of orchestration. There was nothing, then, that might have stopped him from training more over this wait-cycle, growing strong in his twisted version of recuperance, and if that be true, could that mean that all Shyguys...?

His thoughts were dashed; Mouser stomped from the store, arms loaded down with snacks and drinks. Roy felt the butt of Vinnie's guns on his head, though more gentlemanly this time.

"Don't get cocky," it warned, "I've found peace and you're still a dead man riding. And if you start to blab when our driver's back, this lesson will be in vain faster than it would've. Sorry, but I have to eat like everyone else."

Mouser naturally knew nothing as he opened the front and back doors on the driver's side, throwing bags of Cheetos next to Vinnie, keeping sodas for himself as he took the wheel.

"Old man needs a food coma. Young blood needs focus." Mouser joked as he cranked the car. "Aaand we're back on the way to paydirt."

Roy was inside himself, contemplative, ways that seldom described him. The SUV pulled back onto the highway.

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

An hour more, and Wendy was to be on-the-clock, as her mad rush to dress reflected. Hair was still down, uncombed and wet from the shower she stepped out of minutes earlier, and as she rest on the vanity's small chair she fought with it, struggling to pull her arms through the sleeves on a tight white sweater. There'd be no choosing a style for the day that required her curling iron, or any more than simple lipstick and eye shadow; both would be time-sinks. 'This is what I get,' she thought, 'lacking an alarm clock.'

She finally shoved her arms through both sleeves, draped the extra length over bell-bottoms, when her door swung open. She yelped, startled by intrusion, but calmed a bit when it turned out to be Lemmy, in a shirt splotched with snaps of Kareem Campbell bordering high-cut jeans.

"Sorry, sis," he self-absconded, "At least you're dressed."

She shot him a cold stare. "Barely. A brush earlier and youd've been caught in the headlights."

He grunted, in the negative. "Always coming up with jokes that creep me out?"

"Sweetie, I grew up with a bunch of men. I learned from the worst." She picked up a brush and tilted her head towards the side she was attempting to tame. "Whatever's bugging you, make it quick. I've got to be hands-on-deck at 8:30 for the breakfast shift."

Lemmy chuckled and cocked one foot sideways. The segue for the right moment, where he tried not to keep on laughing. "Guess who got trashed last night, smack-dab in the middle of Roy's stomping grounds. With one of my friends, no less."

"... I have no idea..." she replied rather tersely, not a blink's pause in her brushing. "But, you want me to guess, so I'll bite... Morton?"

"Nope."

"It wasn't Larry, was it?"

"No, thank God."

She stilled her brushing hand and glanced warily his way. "It wasn't one of my old boyfriends, was it?"

He grinned. "Old, no. As for boyfriend..."

Her eyes widened. "Morie? Are you fucking with me?" her tone was the antipode to soft and sad.

Lemmy nodded. "Intuition says he and Todd forged some ultra-fast friendship. Walt called to tell me they're at The Green Derby, and Morie wanted me to come. I'm sure it's only wanting chat with me about you."

She frowned and tilted her head the other way to start on the remaining side. "I don't see why. It's not like he could ask me or anything. Why go through you?"

"Well sis, you're not the most approachable in Dark World."

"Ugh", she growled with a hair's width of smirk, "I resent that."

"You resemble that. Besides, that fraction of time I saw you with him, he's not yet in his house shoes with you, I read that first. He might open up at a ' neutral-zone' about you before he can work up the confidence to feel good about himself around you. Some guys are just like that."

"Yeah, it would be my luck he's one of 'em." Some of that phrasing emerged from assumptions of motive; Lemmy sticking up for Morie, the male way.

The skater prince broadened his details. "I'd hate to think it's him looking for a weakness in you." Both turned serious. "He might wanna know what gets to you, somethin' you can't resist, so he can take advantage. That's one reason I said no to his 'invite' last night, on top of the tiredness. I didn't take the chance that he might have that agenda."

"... Thanks, but I'd like credit here. If he did, I could spot it from a mile away.", she said with emphasis, looking to him only as she spoke. "This isn't a weak old girly-girl who takes crap off of a guy so long as he's cute. I'm more discerning than that, the thing you'd call picky."

"Sis, I'm serious. I know you're not a pushover, but Lucy Lawless could have the right kind of string-pulling beefcake walk into her life. That's how they operate. They start with every move programmed to make you fall hopelessly for 'em, and then-"

"Enough!", she interrupted, passing 'annoyed' for hotter thresholds. "I know what kind of guy Morie is, and that's not it." Finishing her hair she dropped the brush on the vanity, then sidestepped to open a jewelry box. "What's this sudden strong interest in who I date? You've never had bad blood with my other choices. Including the ones I now wish you had."

Lemmy sighed. "I just want you to know what you're onto before you make that huge emotional commitment. I have reservations about Morie, and it's not just for last night. I can't help but think he's hiding something." This carried not an ounce of hesitation.

"He is. His balls." She ribbed a man who wasn't there to defend himself; thus being the problem. She picked out a chain necklace from the box, then affixing it. "And your approval can die, I'm going to help him find them."

The skater Koopaling shook his head. "Whatever. I can't order you around and I wouldn't."

"You are smart," she joked as she draped a striking gold chain around her neck. "But, if you care so much you remind me of Daddy. He'd wanna snoop too. Soooo, fine I'll do you this... I'll quiz him about last night before I agree to go out again. I didn't plan to see him before next Saturday, anyway. That Friday Ludwig and Esmerelda are taking me to the, like, opening of some new art gallery or something."

Lemmy's eyebrow raised. "Art? You?"

She nodded. "He made an offer I couldn't ignore. Told me they wouldn't care if I showed my boredom with it - and Ludwig knows my mouth when I get to that - and even promised we'd have dinner on their tab. You know how picky their tastes run."

"I'll go out on a limb and say your 'yes' is liking the idea of putting on airs for a day.", he smirked.

"Nah", she answered, opening her closet to find her work apron. "I can never turn down a free meal. Plus he sounded like he badly wanted me to go. And when he's insistent, it's important, personally." Her mind was off bleaker things; her smile wasn't small. "I'm looking forward to it, it's a mystery."

"Well I wish you a good time. I'll ride by the museum and see if I spot you. Won't try and embarrass you, much." He paused to watch Wendy tie her apron, and his smirk begat a goofy grin. She looked up from her finished knot for this unexplained reaction.

"Alright", she said coolly, "What. Did I mess something up on me just now?"

"No, sis.",he leaned on the vanity. "It's just sometimes, I see the same eight-year-old that used to take over the playground at recess. The one that, and I quote, 'would kill ANY parents if you set a finger in this sandbox-'."

She chuckled. "History sure is funny. Good one."

He put one hand on his chin, rubbed it thoughtfully. "What happened to you?"

"I'm sorry?", she returned.

"When did a power-hungry tomboy go into her cocoon and come out a responsible young woman? I mean... Well more about now than just the change to that... Think about it. You go to work six days a week knowing full well that we're set for life. You keep your car in better shape than most middle-aged auto collectors. And every time you're needed, you're there if you can help it. Like last night, when Haley wanted you over. I know you must have been a wreck before you left, you didn't get rest after Morie came over, but you missed out on a night's sleep to keep a friend company. You make a long-term deal with Dad or something?"

The final sentence maybe hurt her some; her face showed nothing as she walked briskly by him out the door. Of course, he didn't stay put.

"I won't give up without an answer!", he called from a yard back as they filled the hall. "I can be stubborn too!"

She stopped at this last sentence, pausing before turning around. The anger in her spilled soon as she began. "I don't have the time for a long, drawn-out answer, so hear and think. I woke up one morning and wrote a note to myself. I keep it in my pocket, it says to stand on my own two feet. I won't lie, money is nice, but if I felt like I couldn't make it in the real world, what's my true worth? The best way to learn life is to get out there and live it. After a while you get over being starched and 'up' like a big-name actress. I'd rather have friends of mine, of me, than power I coast on as one of us. I'm done having Daddy scream at me for one thing or another, anyway. Things I don't think he does with you, or the other b-" She faked a roar of impatience - trying even in a fit - and checked her apron a last time. "Did that placate you? I have to go. Now."

He was just about to answer when she turned and walked anyway. As she went out of view in her trek towards her car, he lowered head and moped back to his room. It wasn't him feeling sorry for himself; his state was worry, about someone that didn't agree to care. Or if she did, not enough to stomp his fears. In all honesty, Morie hadn't really done a deal-breaker; only a morsel to fret over her, in Deerfield drinking with Todd. Really, more than common for most men to have as a hobby. But what was oddly disingenuous to Lemmy... Not pinpointed, but raised some red flag mentally.

As he paced, he doubted himself. 'Maybe I'm a dipshit,' he thought. 'And Morie is weird but harmless. Hell, if she's happy, he can't be a monster. Judgements take a while anyway. I should stop second-guessing, or do a little o' that on myself...' "

He leaned down slightly and twiddled thumbs. There was merit to both sides of thinking, he just couldn't free the nagging doubt. One thing in which he prided himself, vocally with his pals, was a sixth sense; though it might pertain alone to what transpired then, conveniently. If real, though, it went strong right now, and burned in his brain that shit was amiss.

"Master Lemmy!!"

A soldier practically burst through the door. Though he didn’t yell, Lemmy'd been so deep in thought that he was greatly startled and visibly jumped. Shaken, he waggled head, standing with a lower mood.

"Geez, can you spare me a heart attack!?"

The soldier bowed respectfully. "A thousand apologies, sir Lemmy, but your father requests an audience. It's of indescribable importance, your siblings are called as well."

"All of us?", Lemmy mused, clearly puzzled as to why.

"As many as I find, sir. I met Wendy on the way, she's informed. Larry, Ludwig and Iggy are in the throne room. Roy and Morton are unaccounted for, but his highness gave the go-head in such a case to proceed."

"Figures", Lemmy muttered, alluding to Roy's absence and a father's decision. "Let's go then. Far be it from me to keep 'his highness' waiting."

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

Tom was all smiles as the traffic light turned green, allowing him to accelerate their rented chic Corvette through the 4-way. The reason for his sunshine, not surprisingly, was Morton, slumped in the passenger seat and sleeping like a log, every few seconds letting a small snore. To his lover, it belonged on the long list of things about his prince he found loveworthy. 'It's a shame', he thought glancing at the dozing prince much less than the road, 'that his dad has to be how he is. It must've been a blight to grow up with Bowser, and there's no reason fathers like his have to change over time, even as his son matured into a wonderful guy. If I only had a minute of his time.... Just an unbiased moment to be heard. I'm sure I could find the words to mend their bonds... But if I even tried, he might never forgive me speaking to his sworn past. When he dishes on those things to me, I hear nothing but hate. It scares me to death, but I'd never tell him... I hate knowing that malevolent pain resides in him, from anywhere; he can't let it go.'

As the car swooped around a curve, Morton inhaled slow before opening his eyes, and his mouth for a prolonged yawn. As Tom looked over, he led straight into words, before the yawn finished.

"Hooow looong was I asleep?"

Tom chuckled a bit. "Not long, maybe an hour. We're on the Highway 46 ridge right now. You can see most of Grand Koopa down to the left."

Morton, blinking several times to rid himself of the remainder of sleep, followed Tom's advice and found the view vast and beautiful. Their route out of the city climbed a low ridge that saddled the elevations, some low surrounding mountains. The highway, on the ridge almost perfectly, 'swiped' left at one point just before leaving the remainder of suburbia and entering forested hills; in this lived a breathtaking view of the entire valley. It's that point they were at right now, and as Tom slowly cruised the still-climbing road, his lover scratched a choice bend on himself. His chub lasted many minutes.

The prince spoke, half-asleep. "I hadn't been up this high before", he mused. "Man, the castle's close to the city. It can't be more than half a mile from the grounds to midtown."

"Not much more than that from the grounds to our apartment", Tom replied, not happy. "Wonder why none of your brothers or Wendy ever come by in good times. I know that they know where we live, since Larry was over a few days ago."

Morton nodded, still transfixed on the view. "They know I like space. I made that clear to all of them when I first moved out, especially Dad. And quite frankly, I don't care if I never see most of them."

Tom quickly glanced over at Morton. "What? But I thought-"

"-That night? That was for Larry. He's the only one I really give a shit about, and that's from seven possibles." He took his eyes off of the city; it disappeared behind a roadside stand of trees. "I knew he lied the second he told me that Dad wanted to apologize. I went along with it, I could tell it was important to him that I be home a little while. They can socialize like they want with each other; I'd much rather keep things at the 'now'. The predictable. And... The exotic." He punctuated this by laying his left hand softly on Tom's leg.

The latter, while smiling at the gesture, reniged to his stoic expression. "Honey, by doing that you're lying to him more than he was to you. With facts and your intent. I don't agree, too, that it's healthy for you to just abandon your family, when it's just Dad all those years-"

Morton scowled. "It's not from what Dad did. It's what they didn't do. How they never stood for me when they were right there, while he yelled and spat and thrashed me for something stupid. Plenty of times they knew all about why, and never cut a belch in my defense."

"It's still not the same as neglect. Anyone can be intimidated," Tom replied, "You shouldn't let that embitter you against them. They could be just as afraid of standing up to him as you."

Morton's scowl turned into a look of rage. "Afraid!? I was never yellow, I knew what happened if I didn't keep my mouth shut, and I had no itch to keep the filth down below company!"

Tom's jaw quickly dropped upon hearing this. "He... He put you in cells with prisoners?", he gasped.

Morton shook his head, still very much wearing a look of anger. "There are no cells. Shackles and chains, it's more like. When I was nine I made him angry, and then stupidly tried to tell him what I thought of his 'being so mean'. I was down there for two whole days, nothing but bread and water like the real criminals. And I had to listen while every goddamn one of them chided and teased me, the son of the man that put them down there. Some stuff they said I won't ever repeat." He rocked in his chair, forbidding his tears. "After that I knew better than to talk and expect justice. I guess everyone did, but I'm the only one to go through that." He bathed his eyes' mist in sunlight, strobing between tree branches in their motion. "You wanna know the truth? We don't go by age. Ludwig wasn't always heir, once upon a time that was my destiny. But after Dad's hellish version of raising didn't 'pay off', I guess he was so broken-up my birthright was reluctantly transferred."

Tom, though sad at seeing Morton so torn up over his memories, was mystified at the last part. "So, why were you once the future king?"

Morton chuckled ironically through his tears. "Dad didn't like his speech impediment. He thought it would look bad, a king with problems talking; he's never heard of Britain, I guess. But my torment was just more fuckin' important."

Tom sighed and shook his head. "I'm sorry. I can't say that enough."

"Don't be", Morton replied, eyes unswabbed but drying. "You're not to blame. I should stop about it now, anyway. It's a huge black cloud on an otherwise great day."

As they'd talked, they were swallowed by thick mountain forest, winding high temperate peaks. As was usual there, traffic was minimal, but as they rounded a blind curve Tom had to decelerate, quickly for a slow motorist.

"Fuck!" He hit the steering wheel. "I hate that!"

Morton, now more composed, laughed heartily. "Wanna tell me how you really feel?"

"Can't stand it. This stupid SUV's going 30 in a 45."

"Well, I-", Morton began, before craning his neck as he looked in the back window. "Wait, is that who I think it is?"

"Who?", Tom asked, riveted.

"It looks like... Roy", Morton said, still struggling to see. "In the back. Couldn't be, though. He knows nobody with a car like that, and he won't be caught dead driving one. He thinks they're too womany."

"Shit... We'll find out if it's him or not in a minute. A straightaway's coming up, and I'll take any chance I get to pass this."

Sure enough, several seconds after a long right, a stretch of road opened up before them, a marked passing zone. Tom, strutting the Corvette's generous horsepower, pressed the gas and enjoyed the engine-hum as they banked the left side of the SUV. Their windows lined up with those on the SUV. Morton's eyes widened.

"My God, it is. And he's with...!!... Slow down. Get back behind them."

"What?"

"Do it now. Go back to tailing them, keep a good distance."

"Can you disclose why?"

Morton looked over at Tom and glared slightly. "Because I'm telling you, as royalty, and the rest you'll hear later. He's not okay right now, and I'll bet we'd be the only ones that know."

"(Sigh)... Not one easy breath today." Tom complied, slowly letting off the gas and lining up behind them again.

"Thank God they didn't notice us.", Morton commented after a deep, relieved breath. As the straightaway ended in a hairpin-curve, Tom followed Morton's command and kept a hundred-odd feet from Mouser's SUV. Wherever the rodent headed, he'd snagged two guests on the errand.

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

To the king of the Koopas, it was a trip seeing them lined up as they were before his throne. Ludwig, in his most classic tuxedo and a renaissance hairstyle perfectly groomed. Beside him stood Iggy, in slacks and a white V-neck with the words "Self-realized" emblazened in red computer-font on the front. His weight rest on on one leg, arms crossed in a stab at looking cool, coming off as more 'touched' than anything. Next to him, Larry rocked out with earpieces to the iPod in his front left jeans pocket, the white cord tucked under the same Slipknot tee from earlier.

The volume lay so high that Iggy, though at least two feet away, was visibly receiving. A far cry from a decade or so prior when their togetherness meant having immense fun; this fact caused Bowser's chuckle as he shifted his weight in his throne.

"Ven vere Lemmy and Vendy expected here?" Ludwig had to ask, if anyone.

Bowser drummed fingers over his lap. "Soon as the sentry after them returns. His neck on the line, so it should come directly. But I'm waiting on no fewer to brief you all. I've never liked saying anything twice."

Iggy stared everywhere but at Larry. "I'm behind that. I'm getting tired of hearing Pantera over and over."

Larry, somehow hearing him, removed his headphones. The glare hit Iggy with deceiving smile. "You know you're puttin' down the best group ever, right?"

"Ha, for the layman," Iggy returned. "But it means you're over the worst, so I'll check myself. I know that's what you'd start to imply anyway."

Larry's eyebrow raised. "I never said that. I know you're not trying to be shitty after I bared my sou-"

Feeling forward glances from the servants around them, Larry uncomfortably cleared his throat and re-inserted earpieces, so his last words weren't about to be explained. Frustrated - and counting on Larry not hearing this time - Iggy turned to Ludwig.

"He does this, and then wonders why we didn't socialize forever. After a while, he can get to be abrasive."

"So can you," Ludwig replied stiffly. "So can ve all. Personally, I'm fine right now. I'd much rather he be annoying and happy zan silent and in dire straits."

"Yeah." He looked down at his feet. "It's probably just my vehemence talking, anyway. I was middling a great novel before I got called up here."

Ludwig smiled. "Ve'll get you involved vith Esmerelda's book club, zen. Zey read vonderful titles, and she's turned me into an avid fan of at least five authors."

"Uh... I'll pass, thanks, I'm not keen on discussion groups. Better to read and dissect in the comfort of my home. And after the new lab's built, I won't have the time."

"That... is turning questionable", Bowser interjected. "I'm already in the works. Projects of all kinds will be put on hold unless and until this matter resolves."

Iggy's heart shattered upon this. "Y-you would break a promise for want of a fugitive? " He almost whined, his jaw open sincerely.

Bowser scowled. "I make pacts in the context that nothing preventing my keeping them will occur. It's a terrible stroke of luck that Kamek's on the lamb, but I cannot ignore the threats contained in his note, nor what I know him to be capable of with a directive." Iggy, unaware that Kamek had left a thing behind, quickly shut his still-open gab. Bowser elucidated. "And since you know little of what's in that paper, and won't know until I tell it, your best future is to hold your tongue about the matter-"

He cut short his sentence; the double doors swung open, the soldier that had been after Wendy and Lemmy led them in. Wendy looked fit to be tied, still in her work apron, sporting a fiery face to match scarlet-brown locks. Lemmy seemed antsy too, but not by the same source... His scowl sharpened as he pulled the cell out his pocket and re-read the number on the "missed call" message flashing the display. It was Todd's. He knew there was no way to talk to him without going off about Morie, and Todd's overnight decision to orbit him.

It was after they took spots alongside the other three when Bowser rose slowly. His servants methodicically climbed a throne three times their height, merely to bestow the king with his 'war camp' robe. Iggy rolled eyes at his father's indulgence, only too ready to criticize after such a deflating. But if Bowser even saw this, he only ignored and proceeded.

"Some of you have heard that my former friend escaped," he began with the flair of a strutting rooster, "Despite how little you all concern yourselves with our business. But what you don't know is that he didn't leave incommunicato..." He soured at the eyebrows; cursed himself for using Italian. Snapped two fingers, and a lone Shyguy ran out from behind the throne, letter-in-bagged-hand folded several times.

He took and unfolded it. Iggy leaned over to Larry's ear. "Does he do anything without being grandoise to nuttiness?", He whispered.

"I'm not sure he knows how", Larry slammed quietly.

"Now," Bowser marched with letter high above his horns, "I'm not reading this to you. What it contains is too disparaging to ALL of us for me to give it credence through voice, in this room. Instead, I'll let you do the honours. To yourselves."

He lowered the hand that held the letter, and the Shyguy that had brought it now took it and walked to Ludwig, presenting it. The eldest prince scanned the page for a few seconds; eyes expanded. He handed off to Iggy, who did the same. Larry, upon reading it, mouthed the word "Shit!". Wendy covered her dropped jaw with one hand as she perused it, and Lemmy's head jerked back in a mimed "Dayam!" after he took in its contents. The Shyguy then received it and transported to Bowser, who promptly took it in two hands and ungraciously ripped it lengthwise, then turned and repeated 'til it was nothing but a pile of shreds. The Shyguy shook his head slightly, stooping to collect the pieces under Bowser's voice.

"I'm glad to see recognition of what threat we face. If Kamek was honest about allies within this castle, and I for one believe it, they could be anywhere, anyone, and there's no way to tell how many. We could be crashed at this very moment by a party of fiends in the guise of unassuming workers."

"So," Iggy interrupted sheepishly, trying not to brown up his drawers. "You want us to help you keep a watch for suspicious characters until Kamek is re-captured?"

Bowser flashed a melancholy smile at Iggy, then at the floor, as he paced back and forth. "You haven't the slightest of how much I wish it that easy. I'll repeat, I have no way of knowing who's with me, and who's biding their time. Otherwise I'd have noticed something fishy long before. The way that Kamek worded that note, he implied I've 'had' his operatives for more than a workday... Could be weeks, maybe years. If I am to stop this without a huge amount of bloodshed, I'll go about it from a different angle. And that is where all of you come in."

He paused, and overheard these five descendants whisper among selves, too low to be legible. "As I was saying", he picked up strongly, earning their attention to him, "That's where you'll be indispensible. It takes someone who can go undercover and find where Kamek's hidden himself. I doubt he would leave the kingdom entirely - think how far it reaches, out of sight many times over - so I feel accurate to say he won't take long to locate. At that point a threat to his life will call him off any rebellion he'd planned; a dead man can't pull strings. And he knows well that once recaptured, there will be no eluding. I'll keep five elite soldiers trained on every move from shackles to guillotene, but unless I get my hands on him it's a mess of what-if's."

Silence, across the five-strong line of Koopalings as they looked at each other, trying to figure how this didn't indicate spying. Finally a light bulb seemed to glow in Larry's head, and he spoke its inspiration.

"...Wait... You're saying you want us to go out as covert agents, with no training for action, to chase the most dangerous hands in the whole damn city?"

Bowser grinned through pearly fangs. "I expected such from you. Yes, it's evident we don't have the kind of time to make you all James Bonds... It should suffice that I put faith in you all, that you can accomplish this. Among my portfolio of friends, subjects and so forth, you're the only ones I can all-the-way trust. Too close to me, or too aloof to pull any sort of traitorous or double-agent twist. But don't worry; from my deliberations while you gathered, I decided I'll likely need just two of you. Any more, and it gets hard to ensure your safety. And it's actually down to one now, since your mouth just made you the first volunteer."

Gasps from Ludwig and Wendy, as the youngest looked on in dismay. "But-but-" he stammered, "I'm still unwell! The only reason I'm not holed up in bed is some methodone-"

He clammed up, but the damage was done. He was sure his straightlaced king would have the angriest spread of objections, and stained-glass in the throne room would be murdered by sound waves. Roy - though vying for the title of 'worst person in the world to dole out advice', wasn't wrong when he said it could be more addictive what it cures.

Bowser shook his head, but spoke on without blowing his top. "Then I'll see to it you get the supply to remain coherent as you are now." This blew Larry's mind, but the source of choice was soon obvious. "Right now there's far too much at stake for me to waste minutes brow-beating you. And son, I am what I consider learned. I know its mechanism, and if partaking means the difference between function and being of no use, the risk must be taken. We'll obtain enough to last you through a week or so; I doubt you'll need more. But I still need a second volunteer, and you all stay where you are until I get one."

They all began looks at each other again; Bowser went increasingly peeved. After many breaths with no hands shooting up, he could be composed no longer.

"ENOUGH OF YOUR DELAYS!!" Iggy and Ludwig jumped the decibels, so he toned it down a hair to follow-up. "I know you're capable of this one favour. To live the lifestyle you enjoy, sharing in my fortune and power should make you bend backwards for my slightest gesture. All I need is one, and after that the other three can happily go back to what they did before, with the precept of their safety being worked towards." Always the diplomat, he shifted to a nicer brogue, liquid in its weaving of truth. "If I had a better offer, I'd not keep it to myself."

For several more moments, nothing but hushed asides. Finally, a hand rose, and Bowser smiled to see that it was Lemmy's.

"Excellent. I'll say the near future's not so bleak after all. You and Larry will leave out near nightfall; you'll be briefed by one of our higher-ranking soldiers, one with his feet wet in the game of stealth. I may not be able to count on them where you're going, but you two, you meet any goal." Lemmy's hand sank, with no consequence; he was still on the hook, and the king still had a phrase to cap their tasking, dead-serious. "You will be heroes of the state."

As Lemmy's hand lowered, he felt Wendy's grasp on his sides. She turned him physically to face her, the princess staring at her brother with the worst on her mind.

"What are you doing!? You have absolutely NO sign what you're in for out there! I should accompany Larry, my experience with munitions, all the times I commandeered bombs and guns. AND I'll be a better caretaker for Larry if things should backfire, listen to me!! "

Lemmy, though well-versed now in his sister's reasons, was cold in his reply. "If you had any thought of going, your hand wouldn't stay down. I'm not a slouch with weaponry like you might think; I used to binge-watch the History Channel. I know the ins and outs, how to assemble and take apart most guns I could possibly need. Shit that's standard-issue from here to Hell and back. And there's no guarantee I'll use one for this mission. But forget all that, I want to go. A lot of shit around here's got to me... Some of it's your ball-less boytoy."

Her anger turned to a look of shock. "What? You're going because of Morie?"

"Swear me one thing, sis," he returned, now feeling anger's heat. "That while I'm out, you won't talk to him, you won't see him, you don't agree to anything he says. Trust that there's a 'why', that's all I ask."

She started to shout, but stopped herself, gazing down and away to give a changed reply. "I can't promise that. I don't share your paranoia."

He expected this, but wrenched himself from her arms. "Then I hope I don't make it back." He traipsed angrily toward the double doors. Bowser, who'd seen all of this, only sighed and motioned for the guards to open them and let him leave. Four contemporaries all noticed the lines on his face; he made his downcast way back to his throne and sat with one cheek on one fist.

"Dad, I'm sorry he-", Larry initiated, but squeaked short as the king held up his other hand for silence.

"Just go," the sad father allowed. "Enjoy your few hours here. And the rest of you, enjoy freedom. Analyze it, if you know the price."

Their heads hung low as they capitulated, sulking with Lemmy out the doors. Larry was last to leave, particularly downtrodden, but it's to be expected. He shared in Lemmy's burden, one of the entire kingdom's fate, his surviving forebear's. As the doors' closing echoed through hallways, Bowser sat transfixed, coma-still and staring to the carpet. An ambitious servant stepped up with a goblet of wine. Demoralized, the king accepted and downed it in one sip, then tossed glass over Shyguy's head with a roar. Seeing the bag wrench back in a protective position, Bowser rethought his act, and slowly got up, heading for the empty grail. The Shyguy, after carefully opening eyes, was astonished to see his king walk up to him and hand off the goblet. Taking it in wonder, he watched Bowser turn and approach the door to his sleeping quarters.

"What I need, well-meaning one, is time to think." His speech now, benevolent, shocked servants even further. The goblet dropped from ShyGuy's hand, in awe as the troubled sire rounded the door for his vigil.

To be continued...