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A STEP DOWN

FROM PERFECT

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o-o-CHAPTER 21: STILL MY MAN-o-o

"This is a surprise."

Samus woke to the rhythmic beeping of an alarm clock and the soft stroking of her hair. '6.00 am' bore into her eyes and squinting a little, she turned her head so that she could see his eyes.

"Why do you wake up so early?" she murmured. Her hand moved to his, tracing lines across his palm in a dazed manner. She was only half aware that she was doing it.

"Training. Got to train, or else I'm going to be polishing some stage with my face." His answer was plain, lined with a hint of amusement as though he was stating the obvious. He didn't look too stunned to see her, only backing away a little so that he could free his arm from under her. He propped his head up with a hand, letting his shadow fall across her. "Good morning, by the way."

He offered her a smile and Samus was quick to be carried away on this fleeting moment of ease. She couldn't keep it up, however, and within seconds, her happy mood waned. He noticed right away. Falcon kissed her forehead and sank back into the pillow.

"Couldn't sleep?"

"I slept great." She made no effort to hide her frankness.

"What's bothering you, then?" he asked next. "Or is it just the upcoming matches today? I can empathise there."

She shook her head. "I just realised a lot of things last night, talking to Fox. Talking to Peach, too."

He sat up, pushing the covers away and poking her ribs with an index finger. To Samus' surprise, he was grinning at her.

"Well, that can't be good," he said blithely. "You better start talking."

She shot him a quizzical look, knowing it'd have little effect on him. "What do you mean, it can't be good? Stop laughing at me."

Samus very nearly laughed herself at her petulance, like a little girl who had just had her hair pulled by a classmate. Falcon shrugged and his nonchalance, grating on her a little, forced Samus to sit up and meet his gaze with a glare.

"I'm not laughing at you. It's just that when you 'realise' things, you're usually wrong." Falcon had the nerve to shrug again, casting off her obvious misery as though it was nothing. "Don't look at me like that, Sam, I'm telling the truth here. You're too introspective. You think about things so much that your vision gets warped. I'm going to go out on a limb and guess that you're going to start blaming yourself for something or another."

Her throat had dried at his words. She knew Falcon to be observant, a perceptive individual...but as accurate as this? Just luck, or was this what it was meant to be like? Falcon loved her, she knew that. Was this simple fact the reason why he could look at her at 6.00 am, in her pyjamas and in the shadows, and know exactly what she was thinking?

"This time I am to blame." She was horrified at how hoarse she sounded. Falcon had to understand; the rest of the Mansion could hate her for all she cared, but she wouldn't be able to bear it if he did too. "Mewtwo's gone...and I'm not supposed to tell you how...but he intended to die, Falcon. He killed himself, for me. Mewtwo gave his life as repayment."

Samus was shaking. "I'm just cold," she said quickly. Falcon, naturally, didn't buy it. He drew her close and once again, she returned to her safe bubble. "I keep thinking," she muttered, her words muffled by his cotton shirt. "Those times I talked to him. Did I say something? Subtly or indirectly? Did I suggest somehow by mistake that I wanted him dead?"

"Samus, you're overreacting."

"I'm not, I've never thought clearer. Mewtwo said he was going to save us. He killed himself to bring down Master Hand, to get the sponsors to act upon it. I wanted to be free, but never, never to the point of killing my own friend."

Falcon, perhaps out of respect or concurrence, opted to answer with silence. They stayed entwined for a few minutes; Samus watched the minutes tick by, from 6.01 to 6.14. Then, Falcon pulled away and got out of bed.

"You're not to blame," he said finally, "but you - well, all of us, really - are responsible for seeing that his death didn't go in vain. We'll defeat Master Hand and finish off Mewtwo's work."

His raw determination lingered with Samus all morning. She got ready to face another day at the Mansion, yet her mind couldn't be darker. She knew she was supposed to be thinking tactics and accepting nothing but victory. However, deep down, she was quite sure that a small part of her was already preparing for loss.

The hall was packed when she arrived with Falcon in tow. The excitement for Smash matches was nearing its peak, so intense and restless that very few were actually doing anything besides waiting. Master Hand floated back and forth, apparently patrolling.

"Bye bye," Crazy Hand muttered, in his brother's wake. "Your holiday's near and you haven't even packed your suitcase."

Samus gave the hall a once over, trying to spot a good table to sit at. Link was being harassed by the kids as they tossed match lists to one another and shouted eagerly. Link himself, however, sat surprisingly still, as though he had been paralysed and no one had noticed.

"It'll be the best match ever," Young Link said, adopting a serious tone. "Ganondorf won't know what's hit him...!"

"Of course not, Link's top tier," Nana concluded, and she didn't bother to keep her voice down as Ganondorf passed, scowling. Victory could practically be tasted, and the children were riding on its euphoria. Yet Samus, when she caught Link's eye, knew better. He returned her blank look before returning to study his knees.

"I don't know what's worse," Falcon remarked, taking her elbow and leading her away, "the pressure to win or knowing you're going out there to lose."

"...It's just one match," Samus replied. She pretended to not be so affected by the idea of Link being slaughtered by Ganondorf for the greater good. "Are you all set?"

"Pretty much. Going to skip breakfast and train from now 'til midday, though." He hovered awkwardly, unsure of the best way to say goodbye. He settled for patting the side of her arm. "I'll see you at the stadium."

"Hey, Falcon," she called after him. He turned round, and his edginess was contagious. Yet she persisted, quickly giving him a hug. "He's no match for you."

He gave a brief smile. "...Thanks for the encouragement."

Falcon left on that tense note, making it clear that he didn't believe her. Several seconds of aimless hall-wandering passed before a tiny figure caught up with her. She tried to stifle her groan.

"It's all right, relax," Fox said, grinning, "I'm not going to say a word on tactics; I know you're sick of my yapping by now. But listen well, Samus."

He beckoned for her to come closer, so she did, bending a little and nearly knocking one of her giant shoulders into Bowser. "Don't be discouraged if Falcon doesn't win. Wait, don't interrupt." He held up a hand as she tried to protest. "Don't think that it's all over if he loses, because it isn't. It's over when you lose. So don't."

"You're convinced he's going to lose?"

Fox smiled grimly, and he had the grace to let his voice drop some of its bite. "Of course he's going to lose. He's the opening match, and none of the spectators are gonna be interested if Marth doesn't start things off with a bang."

He clapped her arm, and her power suit rang dully from it. "Good luck, Samus. And don't forget, the chance to strike is during recoveries. Dare to leap off the stage."

Fox left with a wave. She watched him walk in step with Falco, who was apparently unfazed by the quick change in sides. Slowly, for Samus had time to kill and was not intending to squeeze in last minute training, she sank into a chair at an empty table. Game and Watch tottered over, food at the ready.

"Just a water, thanks," she said to him.

Marth was at the table next to her, barely a few feet away. His stylish white uniform did not go unnoticed; Samus was quite aware that he looked his best in that colour. Occasionally, his eyes would meet hers and he'd either smile quickly or pretend he had done no such thing; he'd return to his table's animated conversation (courtesy to Mario and Luigi) and set his gaze firmly on Zelda, who sat next to him like always. Samus was beginning to think that Zelda couldn't talk to Marth unless there was three inches or less between them. The princess rarely let go of Marth's hand or his arm or shirt sleeve; in turn, Marth never missed an opportunity to remind her what his kisses were like.

It was strange, Samus finally decided, sat here in her usual spectator's seat to the glamorous couple. There was no envy or resentment, not a trace of longing. She could see at last that Marth was a winner, one who was handed success and the best of everything - the tasteful clothes, the finest girl, the most impressive scorecard. It wasn't his fault, but he didn't understand losers or fallers, the kind of people who grew from mistakes, who identified with failure and doubt, because it was a part of them.

The morning passed in a blur, so uneventful and hurried that Samus could barely remember what she did. She recalled trying to formulate various strategies to foil Falco, but as it drew nearer to midday, even these were failing to come into her reach. The near-alien feeling of nerves ran through her body; her forehead began to sweat at the mounting pressure.

Clamours and excited shouts from the stadium did nothing to help. When Samus finally arrived at her designated seat in top tier's box, having taken her sweet time in getting there, Peach shuffled over to her. Link and Marth joined them, and to Samus' pleasant surprise, Link smiled at her, looking the best he had been all morning. He appeared uncomfortable to be in this box, however, fidgeting as usual and constantly shifting his weight as he sat; like Samus, he was unable to get used to the prestigious spot.

Marth, on the other hand, accustomed to the glamour of top tier, was comfortable where he sat; he could sense the nervousness around him, though. Wordlessly, he reached into his pocket and took out a packet of mints. He tapped Link's shoulder first and passed them along.

The four of them didn't break the silence. Samus was used to quiet, but there was something different about this pointed, conscious lack of words. It was rife with communication; she could tell that now. Marth was tapping his fingers, one by one. Link was moving his shoulders round in circles. Peach was staring straight at Master Hand.

Samus realised that the fate of Smash Brothers rested squarely on their shoulders. Marth to earn the audience, Peach and Link to disappoint them and Samus, to destroy all concepts ever formed of the game. By doing so, they would strip Master Hand of all power; they would remind him, their fans and themselves that they were not puppets.

After Master Hand's quick announcement where he dedicated the matches to Mewtwo (grudgingly, Samus assumed), Marth stood up to head towards the map.

"Go get them," said Peach.

Marth nodded, unsmiling. "Watch me."

The match between Marth and Falcon, to put no finer point on it, was utterly brutal. Falcon stood no chance.

She knew it was for the greater good, that the single best way to captivate the audience was for Marth to jump through hoops and cater to them. It was terrible to see Falcon being barraged with attacks, but it was equally awful, Samus finally realised, to see just what Master Hand had reduced Marth to: a puppet to entertain.

She forced herself to watch Marth's sword slashes that blended to become a single onslaught of attack, a deadly assault that Falcon struggled to escape from. He tried his recoveries, but Marth was already waiting for him, like a mousetrap anticipating vermin. As soon as Falcon made to land, Shield Breaker was unleashed with a scream of clanging metal. Marth was met with the chant of his name and the audience on its feet, and while he acknowledged his fans with a grin, there was nothing happy about it at all.

"Signature move," supplied Link. "The crowd's out of control."

"Yes," Peach said dryly, sounding a little unimpressed. "That's why it makes a good opening match."

"Ssh," Samus said. Falcon had just managed to get in a few aerial attacks, yet Marth easily turned the tide of the battle so that he was the one juggling. It was then that Samus realised that it was destroying her to see Falcon so useless; he had no chance of winning, and everyone - save for her - knew it. No doubt Peach had shuffled the order of matches to make sure Marth wouldn't end the stadium round on a good note. No, it'd be strategic to get his victory out of the way, to start the game on a high, and bring in the sour taste of their rigged matches afterwards, so that it'd remain in everyone's mouths.

Falcon had gone there to lose, and it was all the more painful for him because she had expected him to win. The racer backed out of the map, battered and beaten, to the shouts of Marth's name.

Next was Link's match. He had just witnessed exactly what would happen to him. He stood before Ganondorf, falling completely into his shadow, and Samus found this match particularly difficult to see through. Instead, she stared at her feet and thought of what to do once the Mansion was free. She thought about taking up bounty hunting as a regular job again, how perhaps Falcon might even like to go along with her. Samus would be able talk about her hunting and someone would understand; she'd be able to sit back, recall it and finally have someone say, "I remember too."

They'd share memories, walk down the same road in the same pair of shoes.

Link, dizzy and sweating buckets, practically fell off the stage in his attempt to go to the wings of the stadium. His sacrifice paid off, though, Samus could tell. The crowd's applause for Ganondorf was forced and laden with surprise, as though people couldn't quite remember how to clap. She glanced up at the box higher to top tier's and watched Master Hand. Of course, he was as aloof and expressionless as ever, just a large heap of white against the red curtains. She half wished he was seething inside from the poor outcome; the rest of her hoped he'd save this for when her match prevailed.

Samus Aran vs Falco Lombardi

3 stock, no time limit, no items

Battlefield

She came close to grinning as her match setup filtered onto the giant screen up ahead in yellow letters. She could practically hear Fox telling her, "Battlefield - excellent! Make use of the platforms or else he's going to spam the blaster."

The crowd cheered when Falco raised his arms in a defiant wave, relishing the limelight. She could see Quentin leaning forwards in his seat eagerly, his large belly threatening to burst out of his tweed suit. The deafening peal for her demise and Falco's triumph would have dented her confidence, if it wasn't for the small fact that people were relying on her.

That and Falco was way overdue in getting his arse kicked.

On the word 'go', Samus launched herself upwards to avoid taking damage from Falco's laser. It was just as Fox had trained her to anticipate. Baiting her with the stuns, running to grab and never straying too far from the edge, Falco was a meticulous fighter with habit drilled into him. She knew his flaws, his tendencies and his finisher moves, but it was none of that that made the fight easy. To be able to stand before Falco and know that she had more reasons to win than him - that was what made it so easy to snatch victory.

She could set up each of her attacks and have them dissolve into one another like paint into water, as simply as spelling out the alphabet. She could lure Falco out of his comfort zone and spike him as he tried to recover. And even though she frequently fell into his trap of grabs and juggling, she was still winning.

"What do you think?" Samus asked him as they traded blows. "Still think I'm not good enough for top tier? Still think Master Hand is the leader of these parts?"

Falco, of course, couldn't hear her. Her helmet saw to that. He knew, however, that she was getting cocky. Confidence rushed through her, a blazing trail of fire on oil, seizing her muscles and making it obvious to every eye that she meant every move. There were no mistakes to her kicks, no accidental punches.

With one stock left and Falco the same, the crowd became more agitated. A bigger half of them were still rooting for the avian, booing whenever Samus got a strong kick in and cheering when it was Falco. A lot of people, Samus realised when she had a second to spare, were apparently confused by the match, staring as if this was the first time in seeing her. Quentin, whose horrid yellow suit made him stick out of the crowd as much as his belly did, was frowning more and more as Falco took hit after hit.

Falco Lombardi was, after all, the former top tier champion, renowned for his superb skills in fighting, but never actually winning. When Falco left himself out in the open, Samus leapt into the air, turned and aimed her back kick, something she hoped would one day, be the signature move of hers like Shield Breaker was to Marth.

"The winner is Samus!"

Her name was like a waking spell. The audience - toads, badgers and Hylians alike - stirred from the initial shock of seeing Falco sail through the sky. A few seconds later, the applause came, punctured and half-hearted. Samus, however, had never heard a better sound. Disappointment batted back and forth over the stadium, filtering between the seats to ensure everyone got a taste of it. Quentin had sunk back in his seat, tight lipped. He started punching a number into his phone.

"Good fight," she said to Falco, taking off her helmet.

"Yeah," he answered grudgingly, his eyes harder than ever. "You beat me, but that don't mean jack. Master Hand's more than a step up from me. Are you still going to try and overthrow him?"

"Yeah, and when it's all over I'll even forgive you for being an arse about it," she said. She extended an arm to shake hands.

"It's a suicide move," Falco replied.

Samus pressed her lips together. "The opening move was, yeah." She let go of Falco's hand. "Now I'm finishing it off."

She ducked into the stands before the crowd started moving. She had half been expecting it, but it didn't make the waiting group of friends any less welcoming. Falcon, arms outstretched, pulled her in for a tight hug; Link, sporting a towel round his neck, offered another one of his rare smiles. Peach grabbed her arm and whispered so that only Samus could hear, "He'd be so proud of you."

Fox gave her a single grin before running past her to meet Falco.

"You were amazing out there," Falcon said to her, snatching her helmet and tossing it aside. "We knew to rely on you. Hope you don't think too badly of me after my humiliating and unmanly loss."

"Still my man," she said lightly, and she punched him on the shoulder.

"Samus Aran." Master Hand's voice boomed down. "Stop flirting, turn around and go to my office." His shadow lingered over her, but she wasn't afraid. She knew he'd come after as soon as he figured why his carefully planned matches had such a terrible outcome. In fact, him seeking her was quite a welcome change. It meant the hand was near breaking point. Ruined matches, unhappy sponsors with promises broken and now she, miserable Samus, was having the best day yet. "I want to have a word with you."

She didn't bother to tell him that he had got it the wrong way round.

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END CHAPTER 21

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