A/N: So, this is a Smash Bros AU taking place in the Brawl era (so only characters from Brawl will be included). It focuses on the idea that the fighters in Smash were actually kidnapped by Master Hand and forced to fight against their will, only able to earn their freedom by winning the tournaments.

I've got three chapters of this written so far, and I don't know how long it'll be altogether.

Keep in mind, this is going to be a darker and harsher version of the Smash world, and thus it will include violence, blood and strong language. There will also be slight sexual references at times.

Enjoy!

'You! You did it!'

I yelped involuntarily as I found myself suddenly being shoved face-first into a wall. Nose pressed against the cool, green-painted plaster, I tried to turn my head to see who was behind me. Hot breath, stinking of smoke, burned wood and meat, washed over me like a putrid tidal wave, nearly making me retch. Oh yes, it was Bowser.

'You did that!' he snarled right in my ear. Fear rushed through my veins, sharp and painful. I was all too aware that nobody was likely to help me if Bowser decided to do something. Not only were most of the other Smashers terrified of the massive, fire-breathing, carnivorous monster, there was also a strict ban on fighting outside the arenas. Even if you started a fight in someone else's defence, you'd get penalised. Bowser was willing to take the risk of being caught. Other people weren't.

'Wh-what did I do?' I stammered out as warm saliva dripped from jaws onto my shoulder.

'You threw that Green Shell at me!' he growled. 'Don't think I didn't notice, punk! You screwed me over! I would've had that fight in the bag if it wasn't for you!'

My breath caught at the realisation of what he was angry about - followed by an even stronger wave of fear as I recalled the memory of my last match in the arena. Mario and I had been fighting a team battle against Bowser and Samus. Samus had been knocked out of the ring rather quickly, leaving Bowser pitted against me and my brother. I'd been sure we were going to win... until I saw Mario struggling to get the koopa king's claws off his neck. Bowser had charged at him, ignoring the risk of injury, and pinned him to the floor of the arena in a blind rage.

I had responded with an equally blind terror. Seeing Mario's eyes go unfocused as the air was wrenched from his lungs, watching him weakly tugging at Bowser's claws in an attempt to loosen them, made me lose all sense of calm logic. I'd grabbed the nearest item - a Green Shell - and tossed it forcefully at Bowser from behind. He hadn't even seen it coming. No wonder he was angry.

'Do you wanna say anything to me?' Bowser snarled, his voice barely louder than a whisper, yet sounding horribly loud since he was talking directly into my ear. 'Anything at all?'

I felt myself go cold, except for where his stinking breath kept blowing against the side of my face. One of his hands was pressed against my back, keeping me there against the wall; a hint of claw-tips digging through my overalls convinced me that trying to fight him off wouldn't end well. Not for me, at least.

'I-I-I'm sorry,' I whimpered.

'What was that?!'

'I'm sorry!'

'Not good enough! You useless, stupid plumber, do you really think I'd be satisfied with a pathetic goddamn sorry after what you did?! You ruined my chance of advancing in the tournament! You freak! I want more than a shitty apology – I want your goddamn head mounted on my wall as a trophy!'

I held my breath and squeezed my eyes shut, trembling in anticipation of hot claws slicing through my skin. I should've known he wouldn't be satisfied with just an apology; he was out for blood, and wouldn't be happy until he got it. Maybe I should have let Mario lose the match. Bowser wouldn't have tried to kill him – there were rules against that, too, and he would have lost the match by default if he broke them – but there was nothing stopping him from trying to kill me.

And I'd been stupid.

A whimper escaped me as I felt his heavy hand lift, almost gently, from my back, though I didn't dare move away from the wall. If I moved without his permission, he would attack me. It was a matter of pride for him; he needed to feel in control of everything. Especially now that he'd just lost a match, and had no doubt been suffering the taunts of his peers all evening.

I heard a shuffling footstep that sounded like Bowser was beginning to walk away, and I gulped in a quick breath. Then I made my first mistake. I started to turn away from the wall, expecting to see the koopa king disappearing down the corridor, unwilling to risk picking a fight with me.

His hand lashed out with unbelievable speed. Claws honed from weeks of daily arena battles sliced across my side, opening up three long, thin scratches just underneath my ribcage. I stumbled from the force of the blow, dropping to the floor and instinctively pressing a hand against the wound. I stared up at Bowser, finding his eyes meeting mine with a hatred that left me unable to breathe. There was a promise of painful death in those fiery orbs.

Then, with a grunt, he turned and ambled away, leaving me sitting alone and shellshocked on the corridor floor. I couldn't bring myself to take my eyes off him, so I watched until his seven-and-a-half foot frame disappeared around the corner.

My pulse was beginning to slow. With a shaky sigh, I looked down to see my blood seeping out from between my fingers and draining into the plush silver carpet that covered the floor. Master Hand liked his carpets. He'd kill me if he realised I was the one who'd bled all over it. I raised my head and scanned the ceiling for a CCTV camera, finding none. Good. He might not find out.

Stumbling to my feet, I hurried up the nearby staircase and almost ran to my room despite the stinging pain that was starting to blossom in my side. I wouldn't risk Bowser – or one of the other Smashers – showing up and deciding to pick a fight, taking advantage of the weakling already being half-beaten.

This is how things are now, I thought as I crossed the threshold, making sure to lock the door behind me. There's nothing I, or anyone else, can do about it. Even Mario...

The thought of my brother made a wave of sadness wash over me, just as strong as the wave of fear I'd felt when Bowser had me pinned against the corridor wall. Mario hated this just as much as I did. And like me, he hadn't chosen to be in this situation. Nor had Peach, or Wario. Hell, even Bowser hadn't chosen it, but he'd grown to enjoy it more than anyone else, taking full advantage of his circumstances and making them into a good thing.

We could never do the same. Fate had brought us to this place – to the Smash Mansion – and trying to escape had only gotten us hurt. Hurt, and with a harsh reminder that we'd be hurt even worse if we tried again. Master Hand was powerful enough to destroy us all. Except he hadn't.

No, he'd just kidnapped us all and brought us to his world, where we were forced to fight against each other in cruel 'tournaments', in which the champion would be rewarded with the choice to go back to their own world. But all of the other Smashers would have to keep fighting until they won... or until they physically couldn't fight anymore.

In the first few days, I hadn't been able to cope. The reality of having to fight my own friends, family and enemies in order to win back my freedom had been too much for my mind to deal with. The first night, we had tried to escape – me, Mario, Peach and Wario – and we'd been punished, severely enough that none of us had tried again since. The second night, I'd cried into Peach's arms while she murmured soothing nonsense, meant for Mario as much as it was meant for me, although my brother hadn't been crying. He had been stoic, serious... and utterly devoted to finding a way out of this horrible situation.

Mario had lost all of his good humour and lightheartedness during the two weeks we'd been living in the Smash Mansion. When I looked at him now, the only thing I saw was strength and determination.

It terrified me, because I knew that, if given the chance, Mario would sacrifice himself to get the rest of us out. And dread filled me every time I saw him, because I had a horrible feeling that this was exactly what was going to happen. I was going to lose my brother. He would sooner die than let me or Peach die, and trying to tell him how selfish this was would be a lost cause.

I gingerly sat down on the edge of my bed, sucking in air through my teeth when my wounds exploded with pain. There were two beds in here; the other was Mario's. He wasn't here yet. He always went to bed late, because he liked to make sure Peach was safely locked in her own room before leaving her alone for the night. He didn't want her walking around the corridors by herself. Too many people in the Mansion would be happy to take advantage of her.

With a long, despairing sigh, I went to the closet and began rummaging around in search of the first-aid kit. It was going to be an uncomfortable night.