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KOOPALINGS : THE TEENAGE YEARS

by Foxy Boy

CHAPTER VIII: WEAKNESSES

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

The smells of incense, buttered popcorn and Red Bull combined at Wendy's nose. Several miles from the castle and all the problems therein, Haley's room was a welcome reprieve, and chock-full of all things feminine. Hello Kitty posters adorned whatever parts of the wall weren't behind centerfolds of Hollywood leading men. The 'boob-tube' sat atop a wooden cabinet painted pink to match the window drapes, the chest-of-drawers and the ceiling fan blades. The closet, although modest in size, revealed more colours and patterns than most could name. The bedspread, a red heart print to match Haley's nail paint and her embriodered bell-bottoms, both of the former hanging off the side of the bed as she lay on her stomach, legs in the air, taking in some episodes of an obscure cartoon. Wendy sat cross-legged on the floor below her line of vision, quite content, accompanied by snacks, her Prada clutch and a Nos of her own.

"Quit hogging the popcorn", Haley giggled, as Wendy took another handful from the bowl beside her.

"I can't help it," was the comeback, eyes still fixed on the TV. "I skipped dinner for having to save Roy from himself." She paused to lick salt off her fingers; Haley playfully cringed.

"I thought you saved him from Mario."

"Sorta. But Roy's a thousand-percent muscle. If he'd been clean, nothing short of a 747 could knock him down- Oh, no!"

The suffix tacked on the end of her sentence resulted from a dropped piece of popcorn on her tank top, sliming it in liquid butter. Haley jumped up and sprinted into the closet, reaching up on the shelf above the clothes hangars. What came out with her was a container of wet-naps.

"You live prepared, girl.", Wendy joked as she took the offered container, retrieved a single from it and brushed the stain.

Haley shrugged. "I snack in here, like, constantly. It's a must to have it handy."

"With a clumsy me around, especially." She looked over at Haley as she finished cleaning up. "Thanks. And for inviting me, too. I can't tell you how that monster of a castle's got to me lately."

"Please, I knew after that ordeal, it takes a blown night just to remember what fun is."

"Amen, lady." She paused to take a generous swig of Nos. "It's not just Roy, but other stuff. Morton hasn't rang me since last night, and he... Well, this can't go beyond you and I, it might tick off my other brothers, but he speaks at me when he leaves work. It's pretty far-after-five now, so that's been on my mind non-stop. I hope nothing's happened to him."

"Not likely. You are a worrywart. I bet he forgot." She reached and flicked Wendy's shoulder. "You know how brothers can be."

"Yeah-" She started as monotone, but picked up a brash-edge tone. "I have to handle SIX. You have one, and he's barely in grade school, so wow what you're gonna learn."

Haley nodded, and back on the bed, sank her head as a joke; hair spilled onto her wrists. "I don't know how you do it, Wendy. With that many around me, one would've stress-killed me by now. Or tried to otherwise."

"What, you think they haven't?" She laughed; the image in her brain quickened her pulse. "Larry and I were thirteen, riding bikes down that long hill on the road that cuts through the Yoshi pasture. We had reached the creek at the bottom when he sideswiped me and forced me straight down to the water. It's a miracle my neck didn't snap when the front wheel hit the sandbar."

Haley covered her mouth in melodrama. "You have a ton of lucky stars!"

Wendy smiled and shook her head. "I don't believe in luck. Or fate, either, it's actions and turnouts. I swung the wheel at the right time and jumped the handlebars, I came home with some bruises, that's it." She swooped her bowless hair back with one hand. "Ugh, I hate leaving it down like this. Can't cut it short, or Daddy would have a fit."

Haley smirked. "You're loyal, for having cursed his name a few hours ago."

"Yeah, well..." She trailed off. Despite hating it, she knew she didn't have a good answer for that. "... You know, you're right. I'm not even home right now, and still thinking like Daddy's upstairs, waiting to yell for an act of mine he forbids."

"Well," Haley conceded, "He would find out anyway, soon as you went home. We'll say you were right."

Wendy sighed. "I'm screwed no matter how we look at it. I need to think like Morton, get a place of my own. A li'l bachelorette pad where I make the rules."

"And cycle boyfriends through the door like an assembly line?" Haley joked, expecting to get a rise out of the obvious allusion to Morie. She got no visible reaction at all.

"Wendy?" she added, now concerned. "Everything okay?"

The daughter of the koopa king shook her head. "I don't get to enjoy the finer things. My family's worth well over eighty million, and I'm less fulfilled than some folks on welfare."

At this moment, Haley knew she'd hear an outpouring of Wendy's heart. In a jiffy she jumped off the bed and took a seat next to the princess.

"Morie dashed off. I don't think he can hack it... The canyon he'd cross to meet me at my level. Look at me", Wendy self-implicated. "One of the richest gals in the country can't land a steady to save her life. And past that, I'd have an easier time removing my own appendix with a butter knife than convincing Daddy to approve him. I'm sure there's accusations he'd already lay on Morie. He did the same thing to Jared, before that finally ran him off and I got stuck with that last loveless, gutless shell of a man. But when I kicked him to the curb, except for Morie it's been the dry spell to end all dry spells. I just don't understand."

Haley smiled softly. "Are you sure you're even ready to give your heart out again? It sounds like there's still anger towards Hal."

"No bull." Wendy scowled, more imagery within to blame. "He loved my status, not me. His name's dead, don't bring it up again, please."

Haley glanced down at the floor, realizing she had made a mistake. "Yeah, sorry." She looked up and tried to change the air. "So you expect a better deal if you're on your own, where your Dad can't interfere?"

Wendy nodded, so solid as to be robotic. "It would be easier. I know, I know, I'm not the only teen who's looking, but... I don't think I'm made to be alone... Ever since I knew my first man, I've craved them like Roy craves... Plenty." She brightened a bit, for the shortest moment. "Daddy cares, but he's controlling. He fits every profile of the protector, and the worst part is he doesn't start to realize. Unless he does, I'll be an old maid. My eggs'll shrivel like last year's banana crop."

Her answer was punctuated by knocks on the door. Both girls looked at each other; Haley rose and headed to answer it.

"Who's there?" she asked, palm placed on the doorknob.

"It's me." The voice was her mother's. "You have a visitor."

Haley stomped once, annoyedly. "Can you ask 'em to, like, come back tomorrow? It's late, Wendy and I want to kick it by ourselves."

"Haley, I can't turn him away. He's royalty."

Wendy's heart almost leapt out of her chest. It wouldn't matter which family member awaited, it embarassed her they'd stopped by with no notice. God forbid it was Roy, or worse, the King. She watched intently; Haley stepped back and the door opened from outside.

Ludwig walked in, and in normal street clothes that included shorts, no less, not the season-disregarding formal wear he usually donned. Something of a relief, but not much, and she was too surprised to notice him conceal something behind his back.

"What are you doing here?" Wendy wasted no time in asking.

He laughed slightly and adjusted the collar on his blue silk tee with his free hand. "Hello to you too!"

Wendy's face was unmovingly blank. "Hah... I'm serious. I've told you and all the rest I don't want Haley and her folks bothered when I'm here. It's impolite, and you should know."

Haley stood red as she discreetly slid back from the two. She could see the prince's smile vanish, and didn't want in the middle of anything.

"Say, vat's more impolite?", he answered, irked. "To make those calls for zem in zeir house. I didn't come here on a social whim." He now produced what he'd hidden, the apron and name tag Wendy wore for work. "In your rush to fly ze coop, you forgot. I'm sure you'd remember it in three hours, ven you're due to be on shift."

Wendy's jaw parted, and she turned a darker red than Haley. "Crap, I can't believe I left those!..." She looked at her brother meekly. "... And I was a paragon bitch to you just now, wasn't I?"

Proving his gentlemanly ways, he looked the other way and shrugged. "It's not like it's a new feeling." he replied, unable to prevent cracking a smile.

Her embarassment abated. "Okay, we've had our fun. Now can we have peace before I get to work?"

The tone he went for was considerably serious. "I actually had a thing to ask. Vich, by ze vay, is vy I'm here and not Lemmy. He discovered your little note, and after meeting Morie yesterday... Ze worry's real. He thought you might be abducted."

Wendy chuckled, and hated herself for that. "I'm sorry, I know that's not fun. Morie's nice, and I like him, but he was tragically born without balls. I'd sooner get carried away by one of Iggy's friends."

"I thought Iggy didn't have friends." Haley piped up.

"Exactly."

"Getting back to ze subject", Ludwig gritted teeth, "I vas headed upstairs from a talk vith Dad ven I saw Lemmy run down ze hall on ze vay out to look for you. I told him I'd go, because I needed to ask zis anyvay." He swallowed before proceeding; he knew he'd never been a good liar. "I and Esmerelda plan to go to ze opening of a gallery in Bainbridge. It's next Friday, she thought you might like to go along. You'd see things you don't usually get to, and of course it vould be on us. Ve vould even treat you to dinner aftervards, if zere's time and you vant."

Wendy thought for an instant, then shook her head. "I appreciate it, but there's a reason I don't go to museums, especially when 'fresh'. They're stuffy, pretentious and house things I can't get into."

"I vould really like you to go", Ludwig reiterated, strongly this time. "C'mon, it'll get you out of ze house, and I know you like zat, else you vouldn't be here right now."

"Ludwig! " she scolded, shamed again that he'd say that in Haley's presence.

"I von't say it if it's not true." he felt horrible behind this for leading her on. "I'm sure Haley sympathizes."

Wendy turned to her best friend, thinking she'd be equally uncomfy. What she saw instead was a model grin. "It's fine," she said sincerely, "Your brother's cool as far as I'm concerned. You should maybe go home and get some rest before you head off to Le Baron, anyway. I was all set up to be selfish."

Wendy sighed deeply and stared down for seevral seconds. Making a decision, she picked up her clutch and canister of Nos. Ludwig smiled as she made it to her feet.

"What the heck." she conceded. "It couldn't hurt, at least physically."

"I promise ve'll have a great time. And I von't care if you make fun of ze exhibits, if zat vould help you enjoy it." He lifted chin, to send home a quip. "Be cruel vith it, you're a noble. Zey'll say nothing."

Wendy snickered. "Now I sure want to go!" She walked to Haley; the two hugged goodbye. "We'll talk at lunch today. If all goes well, I'll still be doing something this weekend."

Haley smiled and tousled a lock of her hair. "Righteous. Remember, rich girl pays."

"In your dreams," Wendy giggled. "See ya", she punctuated, out the door. Ludwig waved to Haley, courteous enough.

His were ulterior motives for wanting Wendy home on top of the lies he'd been unhappily bade to tell. He still hadn't told of Kamek's rebellion, and in spite of his apt poker-face, he hadn't the notion how to break something so huge to her. It was better, in his opinion, to let Bowser exposit. After being up the whole night from such an incident, Ludwig wished anyway for rest uninterrupted.

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

"Wh-what hhhappened?"

Konner awoke on a wooden table, eyes to the ceiling of a dimly lit room. Consciousness set in, and so did the feeling that his hands and feet were spread apart, immobile. He hadn't strove to move them, but one look at his arms showed bruise-rings around the shackles that held limbs firmly. Whomever'd put him in this position had no apparent need to be gentle.

He wrinkled his nose; a foul smell of dankness fogged him, something vaguely sulfuric. He didn't want to know what it could be. In either a blessing or a curse, he had the sense about him to catch that he was headed nowhere.

"No...", he moaned weakly, cords cracking as his eyes went smoky. "Please don't tell me I'm-"

"In hell?" came an answer from the angle of his feet. "Not likely. That place may be a sight more fun."

Konner felt true fear, the strongest since waking. "Who said that!?"

The voice laughed coldly. "Nobody, now. The minute I stepped out of line, our king's brainless thugs made sure of that. No one above says much of our names after we're down here."

Konner decided that whoever it was must be in the same snafu. "Where are we?", he asked, hoping a fellow prisoner could put it together.

"Can't you tell?", the voice snapped. "We're below the castle, in the penance room. You must have heard of this before."

Konner sighed. "No, I haven't been here very long. Two, maybe three weeks. Unless... I lost more time being out."

A chuckle echoed through the dark room, tainted and clinical. "Not much. I watched them bring you here, if an hour's passed in full I'm the one who's lost hold on time. There's no real way to tell... Unless there's a watch on your person, that is... But I doubt it'd be of much use with your hands chained like mine."

"They did the same thing to you, then?"

"Lift your head, kid."

Konner did as he was told, and saw the male it corresponded to. An adult koopa, no more than twenty-five or so, with abundant facial piercings. A chain hung to his chest-height, strung into a medallion that read "KP". He was bound, only he was standing, chained instead to the rock wall. The koopa knew his two-letter monogram was looked to; he sneered slight and spoke.

"Yeah, that's me. Turns out you can't say much against the grain no matter where you are in the kingdom. About five days ago - like I said, hell if I know - a city patrol overheard my jokes with friends on a street corner, and that's all it took." He chuckled ironically. "They gave you an easy time. My feet are so sore I'd give my left nut to go numb." His neck swung, cracking its tension, startling young Konner. This "KP" snapped his beak in the air, gnashing at the moist, acidic air. "... This is your first time here, I'll stake my life on it. Or you'd be in my place." His head loosened; his tone embittered. "It's not your age. It's never that."

Konner nodded weakly. "I don't know how I got here either. The last I know is running through a hall to get away from somebody, and then a guard's face, and it all went black."

"... Heh... Sounds like you were caught red-handed doing something." KP muttered, amused. "Welp, better kick up those heels, so to speak. The shortest time I've seen a soul down here was two days. They bring you bread and water, but they feed you themselves. Rough, so swallow right or you choke, and if you think they're hardasses before they Heimlich you..." He stopped that train of thought, after scaring the colour out of Konner cheek's. "And you'll take what they offer, or you can count on 'em not coming back for more than a while. And no matter what you do, don't ever let 'em catch you talking to me or anybody. Soon as you hear their bootsteps, you shut the fuck up, or else."

Konner frowned, still moulded from the stubbornness every teenager has. "Is that a threat?"

The koopa laughed. "Believe me, kid, I'm the least of your worries."

The koopa kid heaved a breath, bearing the pain of swelled wrists. For one brief stead, he tried moving his left arm, but ceased this as the cold steel rubbed his injuries. KP could see what he intended, and shook his head.

"Tch, damn... I respect that, but it's like spitting in the wind. I'm prob'ly five times as strong, and the chains I'm fastened to ain't budged an inch since they were locked. Believe me, I tried."

Konner spotted truth in his words, and stopped trying to think of ways out. "Well", he finally replied, "I guess we're the only ones down here?"

"Nah. They brought a magikoopa before you, he's up on the opposite wall. They must really not want him goin' anywhere, it looks like he's chained about twice as tight we-two put together. He hasn't said shit since he got here, but I think he's awake. He's breathing, anyway."

This, he immediately followed by a gasp. Konner saw fright develop in KP's eyes. Conversatino dulled their ears; both heard clearly now the echoing footsteps.

"So," a baritone voice thundered, "You like socializing with the other slime? I'll give you something to talk about."

K.P. shook his head as sweat poured from his brow. Konner saw his lips tremble as a burly guard came within his view, the biceps scarred and marked with what resembled fingernail imprints. 'Resistance', Konner thought.

The guard held something he couldn't see well nor identify. Only after he reached the chained koopa did Konner make out what it was... A bull whip, with some sort of... Modified hook on the end. Stained a deeper red than the floor, which had seen its share of the 'outpour', those that predated them. The teenaged koopa had to restrain the urge to yell out in defense of KP; it would just create two targets. Guard-soldier raised the hellish implement high above with heartless pleasure. Konner lowered his head; no way could he watch this display.

It came forward with blinding speed, striking K.P. square in the stomach. Konner winced at the blood-curdling scream, and a crunch as that hook sank deep into flesh. Then came the sickening strains of skin torn away as the guard's whip yanked back. Konner prayed it would not come forward twice, but prayed in vain, as the guard repeated the unbelievable sadism. Konner wanted anything but to see where the hook embedded this time, but KP's screams were as much a horror as before. He heard the hook wrenched from its target again; his young toes felt a spray of blood, warm. He lay prostrate, tears roling down, as the guard went back three more times, each sounding worse than the last. Once the fifth repetition lulled, he heard laughter, chilling every end of him. Then, two more footsteps, and KP crying out again as something was ripped from him, several times. The sole relief was the guard's footsteps growing fainter as, without an end to laughs, he ascended the stairs back to the castle's friendly reach.

When Konner quit weeping, grouped his courage to raise his head again, he heaved and vomited. Many gashes, inches deep, poured blood from K.P.'s body, and his piercings were gone. 'That tearing sound... The guard must've removed them with his bare hands! ', Konner thought. 'This can't be happening!! '

He tried to think of something, anything, he could do to help either of them... Nothing that might was plausible with him strapped so securely. KP was still conscious, though his eyes were drooping, hands were limp but trembling of their own accord. His strained cough sounded to Konner like he strangled on blood. He quickly looked away, spared himself the grief of facts like that. This side of Bowser's rule he'd have denied could exist... But what happened to KP was slim-chance the first such occurrence. He knew criminals existed, some were low enough to be flogged, sure, or worse... But to believe a thing that heartless came out of a few innocent words. Had his parents unwittingly placed him in the cradle of a madman?

'No-' he thought, 'Bowser couldn't know this. He'd never order someone to pay so brutally. And even if it was the king's doing... How would that happen even once without stories escaping, and people stringing up the culprits, forming a lynch mob. Uh-uh,' he decided, 'The king would never sign off on this. There's a place for uglies like that guard, and it's not serving the crown.

His thoughts were fractured as he heard steps again, this time quicker and lighter. He was about to scream for mercy when a face appeared above. To great calming, it was Larry's.

"... Christ... Okay, relax," the prince asked compassionately. "I'm gonna get you out... Fuckin' hell, I should know you would end up here, after how you took off earlier."

Konner almost could kiss him as he produced a large keychain from a pocket. Out of black denim slacks and to the lock's jamb, each shackle opened one by one. Konner noticed he switched between keys; none of them took the same teeth, a clear way to make escape impossible. Freed, he felt Larry grip one arm tightly just below his bruises.

"Wha'did they do to you?"

"I... D-don't know," Konner stuttered. "It's all blank after they caught me 'til a few minutes ago. I saw... KP, over there, I saw them DO that-" he whimpered, pointing at the cellmate's near-lifeless body. "H-hhoribble.."

The koopaling cringed; goosebumps were born from the telling sight. "I know, that's why I never, EVER enter here unless there's business. It's basically a playroom for the guards. The hellraisers."

Konner looked near-inconsoleable. "You mean you... Know about these things!?"

Larry reailzed what he asked, and replied in kind. "I'm not in a position to change things. Dad likes advice from nobody on dealing with insurrection, and he's too good to come and see how the animals he calls soldiers treat a man. What you saw's what happens when mongoloids are left to their own devices." He pitied Konner so much he'd have picked him up and carried him, but for pride's sake. He helped the kid to stand. "C'mon, let's get you doctored up. I'll send someone trustworthy to put that guy back together - I won't lie, if he's saveable."

Konner gulped, courageous as he followed Larry up the stairs, too close in access to the wall K.P. "stood" against, stained brightest-red from the attack. As they went up, Konner could glance behind to where his head had lain, and caught a glimpse of the old magikoopa KP spoke of. Just before he lost sightline of everything below, he would shake it off, sure it was fear's illusion that one side of the robed one's mouth twisted up.

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

Roy admired his image in his bedroom mirror, adjusting his sunglasses. The night had been a good one, only for being off the military hook. Dawn was minutes away and he itched to celebrate; had donned his most expensive duds, a silk Yellowman tee that draped over upscale denim jeans, with a finishing touch, a shined pair of wingtips. It was planned out; he'd hit a few choice socialite hotspots - the clubs or the 'zones' on honies who filled them - before dropping by a few friends' to coke up. These , of course, he could switch in order; if he kept it as-is, it would be to boost his image, ward off any further rumours of insobriety. The scare he had just been through taught him better than to take more chances.

"Beautiful", he commented with a grin on last-second inspection. The dangers he knew, and ruminated on for maybe half a full thought, and was promptly out the door.

Stares met him, continuous all the way from all servants in sight. Some of the younger ones hadn't even been walking yet the last time Roy looked put-together; go back a few times of this, and it meant the days before he learned to dress himself without help. Tonight, no one asked why; wisdom said that you didn't speak unless spoken to. Mandatory, just another on the list of abidings.

He was brash as ever, what didn't change as the gate was opened for him by a sentry he mocked, stepping out on the courtyard. Yards leading from gate to garage were lined with tall, trimmed hedges; kept more meticulous, the bygone days his mother took it upon herself. Now, Bowser had it where their shapes were maintained, in rememberance, but a bit shoddily; some metaphors weren't lost on some visitors. This time this month they were in bloom, and though he knew not why, Roy felt overwhelmed to stop and breathe once their scent. He'd touched nothing since the previous day; the wits blessed him to notice their fragrance at all.

Walking to a particularly healthy specimen, he looked around to see no one might view and mock him, and was prepped to take a whiff when the bush rustled; immediately his legs were grabbed. He didn't have the time to cry out, a hand found his mouth in time with this. Hornswoggled by shock, pulled into the mass of shrubbery, his muscle failed to break off the clasp.

Indeed the one who took him was strong; time and struggle didn't matter, he didn't wrench the hand from his face nor his body from the grip on his torso. Warm breath hit the back of his neck; his ears knew the raspy voice.

"If you know what's good for you, you'll stop right now. I'll break your ribs in one squeeze if I want."

The arm around his torso hugged to painful extremes; his one choice was taking the abductor's advice. Relaxing his body, submitting to an identified will, he felt the ache abate.

"Bright boy", the man continued, in odd Brooklyn-esque accent and so harsh as to be cough-like. "I work for someone you're chummy with, and he wants his." Roy didn't ask who; it'd be pointless. After the last sentence, the attacker removed hand from Roy's mouth, gradually, expecting reply.

Roy obliged. "B-but he said I could pay him when the last batch was killed, and I ain't run out."

The hand sped back over his mouth, more forced this time. "He changed his mind after that... Unpretty display in the city. He cant trust you to keep a secret, and me not bein' dumb I agree. He'll see you, face to face. We know you'll have no problems comin' out there." The palm over his lips began moved downward, at worm's pace, to his chin. "All I do is move one way, and your neck snaps like a twig." Roy's stifled scream hummed through tight lips. "But, you'll keep it intact, if you come quiet. We clear?"

Roy nodded profusely. He saw the hand move away, then back behind him, followed by a sensation on his lower back, small and round, pressing. He knew it instantly with the telltale click of a revolver chamber.

"Now", the raspy voice continued, "You lead me down the hill to a car parked behind the garage. We're goin' for a little ride. And I know you know how the guards move when they patrol, so we'd better not meet one swingin' dick on the way there."

"Mhmm", Roy provided, fraught with more regret than fright. Gunbarrel dug into his flesh, as its holder made him stand and exit casually. They sneaked around guards' paths, wound wide 'slithers' to avoid cameras concealed by the topiaries, the sprinkler heads. Though the garage-rear was two stone-throws from where they first emerged, it took minutes on end to reach, steering clear of any possible security. Roy cursed in silence the fact his father's defense measures were flawed in the first place, to allow this to even take place. He also wondered how, unarmed with knowing patterns just prior, the assailant got as far as he did anyway, if it took guidance to skirt the surveillance. But it didn't matter much. He was a charge of his dealer's errand boy, headed for parts unknown.

Though a visitor had to be buzzed in to enter the gate, a simple fingerprint scan on a reading device was sufficient for the garage. With the getaway car behind it, this one saving grace did nothing. The muzzle shoved on Roy's lower back; he thought hard for a breakthrough, any ways to thwart his kidnapping, or to let the guards know things were amiss. When he realized there was a sharp flaw in the brick edge at garage's rear corner, he saw his chance. He prayed that his assailant was dense enough, as they began to pass and he pretended to trip, catching his jacket on the concave chip and ripping a piece of leather in the process. He made sure to hit the ground like a ton of said bricks, to distract the stiff from his intent.

It worked, as he was jerked up and the muzzle once again dug into flesh. "Fuckin' idiot," the voice stewed as Roy was dragged to an SUV parked close. The attacker threw him up against the passenger-side door; he chose that being quiet was no longer their business. Roy jumped in, and as he sat down he felt contact with the back of his head. Same round shape, same pressure.

"No hair," came tones from the back seat, the lowest yet. "There's nothin' to slow a bullet." Roy gulped hard as he intuited how fat the chance that he'd come home at all. The original attacker filled the driver's seat, put the keys in the ignition. Roy got his first glimpse of this animal that had sealed his fate.

The face was a shoe-in, reprising the many years ago they'd met. Short gray fur, the big, rounded ears, and the sunglasses more narrowly designed than his own. Roy wore the look of mystery, and as this foe glanced his way, he snorted, whiskers twitching, in the know that he was recognized.

"Surprised to see ol' Mouser again, eh?", the six-foot rodent cackled, like chalk on a jagged board. "You shouldn't be. Every guy needs a living. Say this ain't an ordinary choice for ex-assassains like myself. We all got our price, and for me it took next to nothin'-" he swung hand-over-hand the wheel; they pulled away and down the drive towards Grand Koopa city. "-This little score to settle with your pops, after he sent some 'special forces' out to raid my house and steal all the guns I've collected. Everything I valued, like a puff o' smoke!! "

Roy, beneath the neck-hairs standing on end, recalled vaguely a frontpage article in the paper to that effect, a while ago; at the time, not thinking much of it. Mouser's teeth flashed emotions deplorable; he expounded on them. "Countless Daisy sidearms, a trunk full of Magnums... A museum can't hold all the unique ones. War guns over a century old, shit that history forgot. One-of-a-kind pieces I commissioned, and buddy not a GOD-damn one's cheap. My best beauty... My M-1894 Steyr-Mannlicher that took months of work convertin' to full-automatic. Irreplaceable. The best damn years of my life and a hell of a lot of sneakin' around to get those guns, and they were pride and joy." He swerved down the road, putting two fingers to Roy's head like they were a pistol. "Whadda you know. One day those uniforms should break down your door as you sip beer on your couch, and start screamin' about eminent domain, saying 'Bowser needs these to equip his troops for an upcoming skirmish' or some bullshit like that, which never happened, I might add. They carry out my stuff... Playin' with it, all my assault rifles, the ones I customized and upgraded for max SPS and penetration... The span of a few minutes, all gone."

Mouser couldn't stop... The bully prince sat mystified, but knowing this head case likely kidnapped him for free. Mouser's whiskers twitched in triple-time. "One had a Magnum of his own in my face, MY face, the whole time, tellin' me I'd better not move, and I'm still as a picture nail. Then when they leave, they toss a fuckin' can of tear gas in behind them. After they'd split with everything, I rushed to chuck the can out the window, but I was in such a hurry to get rid of it I missed the crack and hit the bottom of the pane. F'in can ruptured. Massive doses of the stuff blew down my throat." He broke up, but not tearfully. "My voice is fucked up ever since. HAL-lelujah." As he paused, another object touched Roy's neck. One backseat man, two guns. "Let's talk about Vinnie back there. My associate, you might say. He shares the passion for carryin' heat, loves nothin' more than a dual-wield and he sure as hell knows how to." The second pistol clicked; from its starker sound, this one had the power to pop a mammoth. "Oh, and he don't like for people to know what he looks like, in case you didn't notice the black film screen over the rear and side-view mirrors. If you so much as start turnin' around, your brains'll be a Jackson Pollack painting on the inside of the windshield. I mean, we got no problem with wastin' you right here, but our boss does, so we're gracious about it... Within reason." Sick arousal made the lines of a twisted rodent's smile. One more thing: enjoy the ride."

Mouser finished with wet sneer, drooling in a craze as they sped down tarmac. Roy's trouble wet his every square-inch; a sweating hostage at the mercy of a man unseen and a jaded, deadly former ally. Would the clue left at the carpark have a chance to save him...

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

Iggy breathed away his turmoil; the first blinding rays of the sun peeked from far-off hillside. He mounted the best vantage point, the same exposed overlook where Bowser'd first informed him of Roy's kerfluffle two nights earlier. Both shared an impassioned liking for this spot in particular... The king because of how it fed his rank of 'powerful', and Iggy for pristine views of surrounding land. Quite the reverse of Bowser, it made the Koopaling feel insignificant, in a way somehow comforting... The expansive world around him would continue to live and breathe, regardless of him or his thoughts.

Every lit window in the multitude of mid-rises and surly, surburbanite cottages signified a person, or couple, or family, in their own time and place... Another roof to house the content that lived beyond just duties, the tributes paid their king. Iggy, as a softspoken name in such a pivotal family, longed for any of what could have him feel disconnected from the black-and-white grooming of his lineage, their rail-riding as figureheads. Not in the sense of wanting to be a commoner, but more that he'd never felt anyone or anything should have to depend on him. He knew that of this fact it would be unlikely starting a family... Introspective urge was all-encompassing, and had forever been how his joys in life resided in separation. So easy to sequester himself in his old lab, where an ever-working mind toyed in peace, unstrained by the meeting of others' consciousness. It called him to his future, the undone, the unbuilt. Few might agree with taking this over an outward existence, but all that counted was that he did. A life well-spent comes in innumerable forms; his was certainly proof positive.

The air was nippy, as had been for days on-end, to this he'd wore a long brown trenchcoat substantially heavier than the tee and slacks beneath. Breezes teased the tails on the coat, whipping fiercely sometimes, threatening to cancel its protection. Unusual for early in October, but every few years were thus cursed. Soon enough Iggy's view might be obscured by falling snowflakes. As he shivered off a strong gust, he wished the clear would last.

"'Sup, Ig-ster?"

This cut through his moment of thought. Blinking heavily for a spell, he started to turn and see the voice-owner when Larry walked up beside him, planting elbows on the frigid stone wall that stood between them and a fatal fall. He rocked nothing more than denim shorts and a black short-sleeve top with "Slipknot" emblazened frontside. Iggy laughed, awkwardly, and the youngest prince looked to him with a smirk.

"Yeah, I know. Cold helps keep me awake." He looked out across the landscape. "I see why you like this. Damn, what we get to oversee."

Iggy's head tilted in acknowledgement; he laid hands meekly on the stinging-cold rock surface. "Well, that's not really my bealywig, but that's fine too." His cares eased, and he spoke of why. "Looks like you've elevated."

Larry nodded. "I had outside help with that. If you want to know who, check the infirmary. He got pretty damn banged up down below..." He didn't really know why that came out.

Iggy faced him with pupils wide. "Wait, you can't mean... Help from somebody in the dungeon..."

Larry spoke both tired and defensively. "It's legit, and a damn-long story." He leaned up and started to reach in his pocket. "Y' don't mind if I smoke, do you?"

His question was met with rolling eyes. "I mind that you're chipping years off your lifespan, but it's your call. Light up."

Larry obliged, enjoying the first puff with a smile. "Been out here a while?" He blew out generous clouds on this.

"Negative. I just wanted a sunrise over the city. It never ceases to be beautiful."

Larry's eyebrow raised slightly. "True. But I'm sure you could rattle off every chemical in the air that colours it."

Iggy chuckled slightly. "Toxins, pretty often. I'm impressed you knew that."

"I absorb more than I let on." He took another drag. "... Man, the thoughts that've popped up about Roy. Memories. The first time he got me to toke with him." His first ash-flick went over the airy wall. "... And plenty after, where shit fell to ruin."

"Really? I..." He searched for the right words, and all it produced was to be honest. "... Don't think I know when exactly that was. I do have an image of you doing cannabis alone in your room, when I walked in on you some years ago. That's the first I ever knew."

Larry looked elsewhere, flushed. "Shows you how long I kept the lid on it. In middle school Roy came up at recess, and we had a private chat. In the bathroom, showed me a joint and kept rationalizing, pestering me, so I had to try. If it stopped there I'd be someone different. What I didn't know about gateways... Every day, more and more like him." He hunched over, fearless of the dropoff but on stable feet. "Y'know, I never said this, and it's a shame. I respect you. Maybe more than all the rest... You've never 'sold out'. Your head's cool and full. There's manhood in that. You keep off the peer traps like nobody's business."

Iggy smiled. "Well I'm... Touched, but don't inflate me. If Roy put me in that same pressure I don't know where I'd be. He can't much think I'd be 'cool' enough to say yes, I don't get offered." Soft and level, giving assurance. "Circumstance."

Larry leaned back, and down. His butt sapped the cold from below, knees up and resting his elbows, cigarette in two fingers' pit. "Nice point. Then there's the darker side... Roy wants to feel like what he does is right, so he gets other people in on it. There's a word for that."

"Validation?"

"Yeah, there you go." His memories wove through bitterness. "A long time, I'd see him everywhere we knew Dad couldn't 'bug' or find out about. When I wanted to say no, he'd say somethin' to make me crumble. Meets behind the statue in the third-floor hall, the storage room next to the servant's bedrooms, places like those, and when I showed up he wasn't always alone. Remember Mike Dalton, eighth grade? My time in eighth, sorry."

Iggy perked up. "Yeah, the guy that would sit on the grass outside school and watch Lemmy board-practice."

"That's him. Roy and him, and me, we tripped, once even in the dungeon, one of the rare times no servants were in penance. Three kids out of our minds, perchin' on bloody tables. Servants prob'ly died there."

Iggy's countenance fell. "I never imagined..."

"Y-yeah. Countless ones." Scared for this news, and a question that tipped his tongue. "You heard what happened to him, right?"

"Mike?... No. Oh man, please don't tell me he's-"

"Gone. Single bullet to the temple. He needed a fix and had no money, the dealer confessed to turning him away. He took his Smith and Wesson to himself. I still remember his laugh, the first time we met... And he came to a suicide in the recliner in his parent's house. Just a bump in the local news, that's all he got. I'd hoped you saw, and when I got to thinking you missed it... I felt like if I recounted it, I'd have to bring you down, and you wouldn't talk to me again. Roy might be responsible, but I take the blame for heartache."

Larry's one long puff disspelled the sadness... A cigarette, half-cashed, got flicked out into open air. "Of course Roy didn't say shit. Don't beat on yourself, he could've manned up.

Iggy sighed, ignoring shame. "He found out, yeah. His only words to me there were 'I didn't make him put a gun to his fuckin' head.' I don't think I really forgave that, but it got pushed out of my mind. A lot did, really."

"I swear, Iggy..." The nerdy prince sweat a bit, but antsiness died when Larry proved it wasn't ire for him. "There's so much about me Roy knows alone. We shared dependency, and that notoriety..." His anger burned from his own words. "The depraved pair... The world hated both of us in-kind. We were good bud's since I was the one person that would match his immunity and let him work me into blind chase. It'll sound cruel, but I don't think he has capacity to like a man for who they are. Just for if they idolize and don't snitch on him."

Iggy stared at the ground, weakened by truth. All was confirmation of what they knew; Roy went on devoid of morals, ruled by substances and ego.

"I know it'd sound funny from your littlest brother", Larry continued, "But use me as an example. I fooled around for years, I thought by fitting in with Roy I fit with everybody. And here I am, Nineteen fuckin' years old and I've partied to give Keith Richards a run for his money. That night before I got to comin' clean-" His body swooped, uncomfortable in his own skin. "-I got hold of a hooker and screwed her like there's no tomorrow, bareback. The state I was in, I don't know her face. Fuck what she coulda gave me."

Iggy's jaw dropped, though he kept awe to himself.

"The shakes aren't lettin' up. I mighta done permanent damage, and I'm not old enough to legally drink. I let it snowball and I'm paying for it, in a nutshell. The shell around this nutcase." He stood back up. "There's my sob story. I'll be inside, going to check on my helper. After he gets doctored, if you want you can meet him. A cool kid, the right way... I believe he'd really hit it off with you. Do me a favour... Pray. To whoever, or nobody."

Iggy sat so intent he forgot to nod. Larry wasn't affected.

"Between all my craves and what-the-fuck-ever else, I'm a little scared. And if you see Roy before I do, tell him to talk at me. Don't ask him to. I need some overdue shit off my chest that I didn't have the guts for before." He started back in, dejected, downcast the whole duration. "Thanks, later", he called out as Iggy watched him down the hall. The noble scientist just waved back, not knowing what to say about wide swaths of what he'd just heard.

Slowly, he turned back to the sunrise, squinting; it had brightened substantially. The orb itself broke over mushroom trees; it cast shadows across buildings, and much fewer windows' inner light. 'How many of them have dealt like this,' he wondered. 'Forward and ahead. They'd understand fear, if so. What they know, and all the things they didn't.'

The cell in his coat vibrated against him as it rang. He shook his head, chained to the present. He was glad for who the caller was, at least; Bowser might have gifted them these phones so they'd be in his reach, but they mostly wound up used for each other plus friends. Iggy alone wanted little of their purpose, the distractions at the worst possible times. Still, it became the one handy way to keep in touch, defying distance and some cases of why.

He flipped up the face to answer. "Hello?"

"It's me", came Morton's voice.

Iggy's irritation fled. "Hey. Thanks for returning my call. Did you get the whole message?"

"Yeah." Morton held a twinge of sadness. "I'm sorry it had to be exposed this way, but I'm alright with it."

"I just want you to know, before anything, I'm friendly. Far be it from me to condemn anything to do with who you are."

"I assumed, but it's still good to hear. I can't help worrying. You said Roy didn't like it... Hell, I'd have a heart attack if he did."

Iggy laughed, and snorted. "To quote you, I assumed. So, anyway... Kamek's in penance right now. I was actually the one to close the fight, I captured his wand and cast a spell. The crazy part is, it's words from fiction. I didn't even know I could without, you know, studying magic or cantrips."

"... Goddamn..." Respect imbued Morton; Iggy brightened like the coming day. "Well if an old fart like him can conjure spirits and that crap, I don't see who can't. What all happened?"

Iggy went into detail, and closed out the story with opinion. "It's credibly the first good deed of Roy's since elementary school."

"Hahah... Damn, I'm happy for ALL of us that'cha settled it. The scope, though... I'm sad Kamek would do us like that in the first place. I thought pretty highly of him, growing up."

"So did I. I guess what's done is done, though. We're blessed it was put down, because there was good chance it wouldn't've. If we hadn't had to talk to Dad, Kamek would've gone in his chambers and offed him in any despicable way."

"That's something I would've liked to see."

"What?"

"-Nothing. Forget about it."

Iggy sighed. "You still hate Dad's guts, don't you?"

"Iggy, you know as well as I do where the point is. I hope when he finally does keel over it is by assassination."

"Don't... Just don't. I know what he did to you, and you can hate him to your heartache's content, but respect my differing."

"... Whatever. My bad for offending you by speaking my mind."

"It's alright, it's just... Yeah."

There was a slight pause. "How's everything else there?"

"Same old, same old. Larry just talked to me. Did you know Mike Dalton's... I mean..."

"Yeah, I heard. Lemmy was down for weeks after that. Did you just find out?"

"No, no. Larry did. I've given things their distance, and when it happened, I couldn't be forthright with him."

"Yeah, I heard Roy might have had something to do with it. Did y'... Say that?"

Iggy hesitated, despite not having to lie. "N-no, not at all."

"Oh, good. I mean that's what I heard when it first came to light. It doesn't have to be true, maybe just speculation. You know, media hens."

"Yeah, I have no doubt." He took a deep breath. "Listen, is Tom with you?"

A few seconds without an answer. "Yeah, why?"

"Is there any way at all I could talk to him? It's not sketchy, or important, or... I think I should kind of get to know him better, seeing as how he and you are... You know, interlaced."

"I-I don't know about that. He's... Alseep right now."

"Oh. It is early, pardon me."

Morton seemed to stutter. "Y-yeah, I was about to brew coffee. I should get that done. Bye, Iggy."

Iggy tried to say the same back, but Morton hung up first, leaving him puzzled and staring at the cell. He could tell Morton hurried to disconnect, but didn't assume it had to do with Tom. Shrugging, he put the phone back in-pocket and left brightening sun. The best of the sunrise was long gone by now, and knowing this, he sighed deeply and turned to re-enter the castle halls.

Meanwhile, Morton's own cell went back in the glove compartment of their rental car, where it had first sat before he called Iggy.

"What did he say?", Tom asked, his hands firmly on the steering wheel as they cruised down the highway that led out of the city.

Morton shook his head. "Not much. He told a little more what Kamek did." He smiled as he looked over at his lover. "Apparently, Roy helped save the day. Canonize that."

Tom showed teeth in a guffaw. "I've heard everything." He took his right hand off of the steering wheel, gently in favour of Morton's left leg. "Does he know where we are?"

Morton grinned at his partner's affection. "Hell no. And it's stayin' that way long after we're at Sea Land, if it's ever leaked."

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

"Wha...?"

Bowser's slumber dissipated; his gaze opened unto a single Shyguy.

"I said, the sun has risen, your highness. You fell to sleep on your throne, right after you asked to be awakened at this time today, so you could preside over... That certain one's execution."

The hefty monarch smiled slight and rubbed the sleep out of eyelids. "Cute, servant. That's a rather coy means to avoid his name." He rose, staggering before balance locked in. "Very well. Send for my robe, I'll be there directly."

"Immediately, my king", the Shyguy bowed and ran to fetch the bright red linen. It was ceremonial, drug out only when the king was to be present at a function; each time he'd never neglected it. As he waited for the Shyguy to return with it, he stretched for a prolonged time, yawning. Ninjis emerged from the doorway to his usual sleeping quarters, toting the robe. They rushed to help it on; soon as both arms were in sleeves he began towards the punishing room, strikingly in need of coffee.

A lone troopa met him atop the stairs that just a short while ago had held Larry and Konner. The soldier's armor glitzed with medals and striped patches, the rank of general. He bowed like all others before speaking.

"My lord, it pains me to report the executioner's not here yet. I'm told he left the chambers a while ago, due here directly."

Though peeved to hear of it, Bowser stiffened his lip. "I cannot hold you responsible for all my subjects. I wait until he arrives."

Minutes passed, still no sign of the hooded koopa whose gruesome duties called. Bowser's ears smoked.

"This is unacceptable. Take me down to where Kamek is held. I'll slit his throat with bare claws if need be."

"Yes, your excellency." The general trembled, and led the king down darkened steps to the room of torment. Bowser walked behind, still on the way by the lower steps; the general reached where Kamek had been chained. A scream left his lips; he slapped hands to cheeks, and stooped forward, ready to fall. Bowser shook the floor, jumping down to see what brought this.

The shackles hung free from the wall, above a hooded body, flesh mutilated and stringy where his shell had been torn from him. Nothing of Kamek or his clothing was to be found.

The general's mouth hung open; blood drained down his neck behind the faceguard. Steam and yellow flares licked from Bowser's nostrils. "CLOSE OFF ALL ENTRANCE AND EXIT POINTS!! HE WILL NOT ESCAPE!!!"

His red eyes narrowed, sighting a small paper left by their fileted executioner. Chains clinked on the wall in the wind off the King's stooping. The general lost all poise, curled in a ball as Bowser snatched it up. His mouth, as he read, found steadily an equal fear.

Stupefied?

You're welcome for the lovely parting gift; he'll make a grand stew with the right spices. You must have known that someone this dynamic would have no hindrance in physical restraints. But I do doubt if you've yet figured out that Iggy's spell was my own ruse, a simple show of lights that appeared to vanquish me. Your son has no more mage in him than a single rock in this accursed place.

I must give you some credit. You know that even had I been destroyed, my fellow chosen, my apprentices, take up the fight in my stead. Their trust in me is absolute, and as Ancient Ones we share birthrights for your monarchy. Decades I waited, and the pay is at hand. We will live to see you devoured, and usher in a glorious era, prosperity where the land again bows to our clan, as it was for centuries. Even as you read this, countless spies and pets within your 'impregnable' fortress are mine, and await naught but my word to attack. They shall seize all you mistakenly claim is yours. The day fast appraches when the very floor you walk on will be the husks, the bones of those that foolishly swear you their allegiance. The kingdom will divide itself in the throes of civil war. We will be there to see you and all of your wretched eggs perish in dishonour.

May the old ways be restored, ancestors be praised. Your remaining nights are to be haunted by visions of what is to come.

To be continued...