"I told you I could totally kick your arse," I told Pit triumphantly, grinning down at him in a totally way too pleased and rather short of breath way. He returned the grin with a short nod, picking himself up off the sparring matt and loosely rolling his shoulders.

"You've gotten better," he acknowledged, before that mischievous edge to his smile was back. "So what is that? Me three, you one?"

"Shut up," I said, not unkindly, rolling into my sideways stance, ready to go again. "You've been lucky."

We were sparring on the mats inside the gym about a week later. I'd finished my apparently last session with Jim last night, and while he couldn't teach me to be a freaking BAMF in roughly a week, I grudgingly had to admit he did help a lot. I felt a lot less vulnerable outside the suit than before, and, like you might've guessed, I had actually managed to take Pit down. Well, one time, but details, details—he had four years on me; I was proud.

Right now we were waiting for Master Hand to make an appearance. He had apparently told Jim to tell me to meet him back in the gym in one week from then in the afternoon (which today and the time was) along with our super-four combo of myself, my bro, Pit and Noel. Again. As he hadn't actually said specifically what time to meet him, we'd all come here shortly after noon and after a sort of meeting that Melee inhabitants attended earlier this morning.

It had been a catching up on the world around us. More bombs had gone off, but not because of the bombs being produced by the bomb factory (which had been destroyed, if you remember), but because of some large cannon that was sticking out from one of the blasts. It had a huge reach, and could send a bomb nearly anywhere. Thankfully, Melee Mansion was protected by the force-field, and the earlier attempt to nuke us had completely failed. Noel, who was some sort of leader here, had sent out Lynn (an assist, and character from the Fire Emblem games) and two trainers out to Smash City to see if anything was going on there, and another small group to take out a small camp of the SubSpace creatures not too far away.

Now we were just waiting. Waiting and waiting and waiting for Master Hand to show up. Pit and I sparred, while Noel was hanging out a ways a way with her Luxray and Bruce, working with him on some sort of electricity attack.

I watched them uneasily, a bit uncertain about their apparent friendship and how much time Bruce had been spending with her the last week or so while I trained. Maybe I was a little jealous, but, you know, just my protectiveness acting up. Noel and I were friendly with each other, but we hadn't quite developed the friendship that Pit and I had. Maybe it would take a bit longer, but her rather sharp and aloof attitude wasn't making it very easy.

Pit caught his hand on the side of my shoulder while I was distracted and sent me spinning. "Hello?" He asked, looking amused. "We still doing this? What's up?"

I shrugged, rolling my shoulders and loosening my arms, shaking my head as if to clear it. "Yeah," I said, shooting them one last glance before turning back to Pit, more serious than I had been before, lunging out with a feint and a following knee kick. "You know Noel, right?" I asked tentatively, even as I rejected the quick strike Pit sent at my collarbone. "You're friends, right?"

Pit nodded. "She sometimes hangs out with the smashers I like to be with. Link, Marth, Zelda and Sheik… Ike and Charlie… Sa-mus," he kinda tripped over Samus's name, not looking at me, and I wasn't sure whether to feel irritated at the gesture or not. "We're friends, but not as close as some of the others."

"She seems to like Bruce just fine," I half muttered, partially because I had to snap my head back to dodge a particularly quick jab, and partially because there was some depth to the statement that might've been unfriendly.

Pit grabbed my hand, stopping my blow, and I tried to pull it out of his grip, thinking it to be part of the spar. When he didn't let go, I looked up, a question on my lips, and he was looking at me seriously. "Don't take it the wrong way," he said, quietly. "She likes pokémon, and people less so. There's—"

Of course, just as things were getting interesting, Master Hand showed up.

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

Warning Seventeen.

They'll suck you back in, no matter how much you dig your heels in.

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

Master Hand was shaky and looking worse for the wear as he appeared suddenly a few yards away over another empty sparring mat. Pit stopped his sentence instantly, shooting me a wide-eyed look, before we both dropped everything and ran over to where he floated. I could see Noel out of the corner of my eye stop talking abruptly as well, before raising a hand to tell Bruce and the Luxray to stay there as she quickly walked over.

We all crowded around the hand, and I found I couldn't say anything as Pit and Noel anxiously quizzed him, are you okay? what happened? what's going on?. The Hand's image was flickering, obviously unstable, and he was obviously not going to be able to appear before like this easily again.

"It is becoming increasingly difficult," was the first thing I registered Master Hand saying over Noel's sharp quips and Pit's increasingly concerned questions, "to get past Tabuu's hold and communicate to you like this. It requires much energy."

"You should leave then," Noel said instantly, sounding almost uncharacteristically concerned. "Save your strength."

Master Hand gave a roll of his knuckles that resembled a humanistic shaking of the head. "I have news," he said gravely. "It is essential you get this information."

"Okay," I said levelly, surprised at how calm I sounded, "get it out and then go back. Don't put yourself in more danger than you already are."

Master Hand paused, dipping in acknowledgment, and he seemed to hesitate before speaking again. "Tabuu has become stronger," he said at last. "Much stronger."

Well, crap.

"…stronger how?" Noel asked, almost tentatively, after a long moment of rather painful silence.

"He stopped focusing on his kingdom's general defense and more so on his own," Master Hand explained. "He is no longer able to take damage by average physical means. It will be nearly impossible to harm him. His mental strength has increased to the point where no physic attack will be able to harm him."

Well, crap. Again. There goes my only ride home. We'd screwed the game plot up so much that it was now impossible to defeat the final boss. Fan-freaking-tastic.

"So we're screwed," I said flatly, crossing my arms and staring into the headspace over Master Hand's hovering projection.

Master Hand again shook him. "No," he said slowly. "Not entirely. Four Smashers have final-smashes powerful enough to cause Tabuu harm, two of which should wound him enough in one hit for him to be taken down by physical means. Tabuu can be harmed by pure-energy alone, and the light arrows of Shiek and Zelda, as well as Lucario's aura-storm all have enough traces of pure-energy to wound him."

The disheartened we're-all-going-to-die atmosphere lightened somewhat. Okay, so there was some hope at least. Noel let out a breathy sigh of relief, and both Pit and I straightened somewhat at the news. "So we just have to find those three," Pit confirmed, "and find enough smash-balls for them to take Tabuu down."

Master Hand nodded. "However, Zelda is currently in captivity on the Halberd, and Sheik's and Lucario's whereabouts are currently unknown, even to the SubSpace army."

I raised my hand instantly. "Lucario's on some huge icy mountain!" I said, for once knowing something useful for once. "He's meditating. Meta-Knight and the ice-climbers run into him at some point, if they haven't already."

"There's only a few mountains in Central Nintendo that are tall enough to have snowy-peaks," Pit turned to me, looking excited at the prospect of a new plan. "Unless he's in a pokémon region?"

I shook my head, hair bouncing irritatingly. "Everything happens here. I think. I'm fairly sure."

Pit turned quickly to Noel. "It wouldn't take us long to narrow the choices down," he said to her, "we could find Lucario in less than a day, and then move onto the Halberd, easy!"

Noel wasn't looking at him though, instead turning her cool gaze towards Master Hand, hands on her hips. "You said there were three smashers with final smashes powerful enough," she said slowly, blue eyes narrowing. "Lucario, Sheik and Zelda—that's three. Who's the forth?"

I made a mental predicti—

"Samus Aran," Master Hand said simply, and every eye in the room turned towards me.

Of. Freaking. Course.

I met their gazes defensively, crossing my arms across my stomach, tensing up. "I am not Samus," I said tersely. "I don't even have a final smash."

"Samus's is different," Noel said, fixing me with a piercing stare. "She uses the extra energy of the smash to charge the power-suit for the zero-laser. When without it, she uses the excess energy of the smash to reform the suit. It's not her. She just channels the energy."

"Of course she does," I muttered, shuffling my feet.

"Potentially," Master Hand said, jerking his fingers back in my direction, "you could use the same technique. It's a simple process, and one guided by the smash-ball. You could use the zero-laser should you run out of options."

"And right now," I said, looking up snappishly, "we have options. So no. That could very well go poorly."

There was a brief silence, increasingly uncomfortable as I found I couldn't read neither Pit's nor Noel's face, until Master Hand said abruptly, "I need to speak with Noel."

I shot a glance towards the redhead, who pursed her lips without looking at me.

"Alone," Master Hand clarified.

Pit and I exchanged a long glance, before he shrugged and we both moved away from the two of them, over towards where Bruce and the Luxray were wrestling—enough space to give them decent privacy.

"What was all that about?" I asked, once we had reached the new mat. Bruce tackled me as we got close, shocking me once or twice and generally making parts of my hair buzz with sparks. I patted him absently, before he shocked me for the third time and I bodily tossed him back onto the mat.

Pit shot an uncertain glance back towards Noel and Master Hand, half shrugging. "I think they're close," he said uncertainty.

"Close?" I repeated, peering over towards them as well. Noel was speaking animatedly to Master Hand, anger evident on her face as she snarled at him. Suddenly, Master Hand seemed to dip, as if leaning down to say something, and the girl's face crumpled, her arms wrapping around herself, obviously distressed.

"I think," Pit said slowly, "and no one really knows the whole story, they're mostly just rumors, he saved her life."

I turned my head back towards Pit in surprise. "How?"

"She…" Pit seemed to struggle for the right words, "her… her team was killed."

That was a surprise to me. I blinked rapidly. "What? I thought pokémon couldn't…" I trailed off, thinking of the games themselves and how the pokémon were always depicted as 'fainted' when they lost battle. You could always heal them and they'd be fine right after. "I thought they were part digital or something," I explained, after a moment.

"Everything can die," the avian replied solemnly. "Pokémon battles are risky business. One hard hit, and…" Pit shook his head. "Wild pokémon kill each other everyday, but most trainers and pokémon can control themselves enough to prevent killing blows. But sometimes, a hit lands just right, or the pokémon evolves or levels up and doesn't realize how strong it is, or the pokémon or trainer just don't care."

It hit me suddenly. "…it's a nuzlocke," I realized, eyes widening.

"What?"

"That's what we call it on my world," I explained. "A nuzlocke is version of a game when a pokémon faints in battle you're supposed to release them, simulating death. They're difficult. I tried one once. I didn't do so great."

"I guess you could call it that," Pit replied, voice a pitch softer than normal. "Either way, Noel was good, great, amazing actually, one of the best, but… no one really knows what happened. She nearly died too.

It was hard to think about, and I ran a hand back through my hair, pursing my lips. How many pokémon died a year? How many people risked training pokémon? How many trainers had lost their team and their own lives to something like that? "…how do you know so much about pokémon?" I asked instead.

"Charlie," Pit explained, lowering himself to sit down on the mat, watching Bruce and the Luxray spar with arms folded over his knees. "He and I are friends."

"The pokémon trainer," I nodded, sitting down beside him. I remembered Noel's initial interrogation, and how she had referred to (rather fondly) of the kid who I had always referred to as Red.

Pit nodded before continuing the story. "Master Hand recruited Noel to train the assist pokémon. She's one of the best trainers in the world, and he gave her a fresh start. New pokémon to work with."

"The assist pokémon?"

"Among others. She still has her own, and pokémon that aren't used in brawl but people drop off for her to work with and train."

"Oh," I thought of the Charizard Noel had with her when she rescued Pit and I from Wolf, as well as that fluffy Arcanine who I loved more than any other person right now and needed to go visit. "Like that Charizard and Arcanine? I know they're not assists."

Pit nodded. "Archie's her own—I think one of her oldest too—as well as the Luxray. The Charizard's Charlie's. Noel found her in trophy mode a bit of a ways from the mansion on the scouts."

"Oh," I winced. "I'm fairly sure that wasn't supposed to happen."

Pit gave me a strange look. "What?"

"In the game—" I explained, before remembering how sensitive those grounds were and stumbling over my word, "I mean—story—I—nevermind."

If Pit cared about my comment about 'this is all just a video-game and you aren't real' comment, he didn't show it, staring into the headspace above where Bruce and the Luxray were tumbling. "…she's cold for a reason, Brittney," he said, after a long moment, looking over back towards me. "She wasn't always like that."

"Yeah," I said, staring down at my boots. "I get it."

Noel suddenly turned away from Master Hand, dropping her hands down into fists by her side. She stormed over to where we sat with a clenched jaw. "He wants to talk to you," she snapped as soon as she got close, glancing at me as she walked by, not even slowing down. I pretended not to notice how her voice just barely shook.

I got up after she had walked away, inwardly mentally preparing myself for whatever plot-development was sure to come next, walking with the same rigidity I had just seen on Noel seconds ago. I stopped in front of Master Hand, resisting the urge to cross my arms and instead folded them behind my back where my fingers locked together with a grip that almost hurt. I glanced up at Master Hand, not saying anything, waiting for him to start the conversation.

Eventually, Master Hand seemed to sigh, and dove straight to the point. "The Smash Balls are in the hands of the enemy," he said. "They are not mass produced and are never give to the public. The only supply were kept at Smash Mansion, which was captured by SubSpace nearly a month ago."

Oh. Okay. Wow. "That is a very big problem ," I told him, as if he didn't already know, because our whole planned revolved around using the freaking smash-balls to kill Tabuu.

"It is a big problem," Master Hand replied easily. "However, I kept three smash-balls for emergencies in my private safe offsite, here at Melee."

I gave him a long look, appraising. "Why are you telling me this?" I asked, because it didn't really make sense. "Shouldn't you tell Noel or someone who can regulate them and actually know what they're doing?"

"Because it is very unlikely that you will be able to breach the SubSpace area without using all three," Master Hand explained, and, wow, that was some serious foreshadowing about how difficult this was going to be.

"Okay, so what then?" I asked. "We'll be screwed without them, so we'll just have to get in without using them."

Master Hand hesitated. "There is a supply of the smash-balls hidden in the SubSpace area," he said, after a long moment.

The fact that there was a backup plan to fall on was the first good news we'd had in a while, even if there was a darker twist to it that might make it more difficult. "Okay. Fantastic," I replied, and for once I wasn't being sarcastic. This was good. This was very good. "Noel, Pit, Bruce and I—we'll go there. Then we have lots of spares."

Master Hand tilted his huge fingers as if giving me a long second glance. "We?" He asked after a moment, sounding the faintest bit of amused.

I glowered at him, biting my tongue in irritation that I had been found out. I had been pretty set on getting to Melee Mansion then getting out of the way, but now—with a plan, and with the possibility of getting home— "…okay, fine," I said, exasperated. "Yeah. You got me. I'll go with them. Apparently you need my help. It's the best way to end the game."

Master Hand seemed to nod. "You know of the danger. If the SubSpace Emissary learns of your plans, he will destroy the smash-balls, and lay traps for you."

While the whole 'trap' thing was alarming, I was distracted by the name. "Who?" I asked, referring to the SubSpace Emissary.

"Tabuu," Master Hand repeated, sounding confused. "The SubSpace Emissary?"

Suddenly, just like that, I got it.

"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH," I exclaimed, eyes widening, mind blown.

Master Hand stared at me.

"Sorry," I fumbled, grinning like an idiot. "I just… it's the game title… I… sorry," I ducked my head, still trying not to smile. Oh, those writers.

Master Hand continued after a long moment, fingers curling as if sighing in exasperation. "Again, if the SubSpace Emissary learns of your plans, he will destroy the smash-balls."

"Then we're screwed," I said flatly. "We just got to make sure he doesn't find out. If he does, then, well, we'll have to figure something else out.

"No," Master Hand shook his hand. "There is a way to activate the final smash without the actual smash-ball. The smash-ball acts as a trigger, a mental one, to make the transition easier."

Oh, well. That was convenient.

"It is a technique that takes years to learn," Master Hand continued. "None of the smashers are aware of its existence, nor do I believe they can perform it with ease."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Why are you telling me this then?" I asked. "You keep telling us things that won't help. You should tell one of the smashers who has the best chance of learning it quick enough."

Master Hand didn't flinch. "I am," he said solemnly.

One second.

Two seconds.

Three second.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Dude," I lifted up a hand, stopping him from saying anything else. "First off, I am not. A. Smasher. Second off, there's a big difference between learning quickly, and picking up something that takes years in days, or minutes, or—"

"—seconds," Master Hand finished simply.

"No," I said flatly, and I wasn't even entertaining the idea for a second it was so unbelievable. "It's not going to happen. It's not possible."

"Your lack of confidence is discouraging," Master Hand replied.

"There's a difference between a small chance and impossibility!" I cried.

"There is a difference between learning normally and quickly," he countered just as easily.

"Yes, because the most boring and subtle superpower ever is totally going to be the difference between life and death!" I snapped.

"It might be," Master Hand said seriously, and I just stared at him in disbelief because there was no way— "Raw energy. It is Tabuu's weakness—and it is why the plasma-cannon, the light arrows, and the aura-storm all have advantages against Tabuu: they all have traces, or are, raw energy. This technique, it is all about harnessing your own raw energy."

"I don't even have a final freaking smash!" I said crossly. "Something like that, learning something that quickly, it's not possible. Maybe, maybe, if this 'ability' of mine actually made a difference—maybe if it didn't just have absolutely zero impact on performance then we could actually be talking about a small chance—but nothing has changed. I am exactly the same."

Master Hand didn't even flinch. "…everyone has one," came the easy reply. "Everyone's is unique. Not every gets to see their own."

"I don't even come from this world!" I crossed my arms indignantly.

"Neither does Sonic or Snake," Master Hand replied. "They do. Your DNA was altered to fit this world; you have a unique one as well. You've shown progression and abilities with a weapon—a whip—that takes years to master, you've survived up to this point, and at the touch of a teacher your skills have skyrocketed."

"Since when?" I snarled, practically bristling. "I have yet to witness this 'sky-rocketing'. How do you even know what I've done this week? You've been gone!"

"Since Jim," Master Hand said simply, and I mentally kicked the guy. Pointy-freaking-beards—

"Stop being irritable, it's irritating!" Came the only reply I could think of. His reasonableness was starting to get annoying.

There was a long pause, heat (mostly, well, almost entirely, from me) clear between the two of us. I lifted my chin at the floating hand, nails digging into the flesh of my arms and refusing to blink in the staring contest I would never win. Finally, Master Hand dipped.

"…very well," he said. "I will be unreasonable and insist you come meet me here one final time in three days—after you have found Shiek, Zelda, or Lucario."

"We might not be back by then," I warned him, annoyed by his calm attitude.

"Then you must make sure you will," he told me, figure flickering. "Goodbye, Brittney."

And he was gone.

I groaned dramatically, flopping down onto the sparing mat with arms and legs eagle-spread. Great. I had just gotten out-argued by a floating, giant, hand. Wow. My life—

Pit's fluffy head leaned over my line of sight, a hand reaching down to poke me. "What happened?" He started.

I smacked his hand away, rolling ungracefully to my feet. "Shut up," I told him, not unkindly, storming away. "I have a freaking zero-suit to find."

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

"How's the repairs to the power-suit going?"

"Well enough. I have been multi-tasking in its repair and the repair of the trophy-mode system."

"So, repair time completion estimate?"

R.O.B. turned his head to look at me, camera-eyes focusing more clearly on where I sat on a stool, fiddling with a pencil hunched over a worktable. "You wish to use it?"

I scowled down at my pencil. "Yeah, yeah," I muttered. "Don't act surprised. They need the power-suit to take out Tabuu."

R.O.B. whirred in interest before turning back to project. "It is almost complete. It should be ready late tonight."

I nodded. "That's good. Noel said that she, Pit, Bruce and I are leaving tomorrow. I wasn't real happy about Bruce coming along, you know, but leaving him here by himself isn't really a good idea here." I paused, before adding hastily, "Not that I don't think you could take care of him."

"For where?" R.O.B. asked, tactfully not pursing the topic.

I winced. "…we're apparently going to take out the helicarrier."

"The what?"

I froze, looking down at the pencil, before realizing my mistake. "Oh, crap. Wrong fandom. Meta-Knight's ship thingie," I explained with a half-laugh.

"..."

"I know," I agreed to the triple-dots. "We're screwed. It's probably impossible. And a suicide mission," I flicked the pencil up the slanted table, watching it roll up then slow, then back down towards me. "I'm currently in the process of writing my will. You can have the suit if I die."

"That would likely be impossible," R.O.B. told me, rolling across the room to retrieve what looked to be a miniature car-jack. "The suit is connected to you and would likely deteriorate after your death."

I paused, catching the pencil with a finger, turning in the swivel-stool and staring at him. "First off, that was a joke, second off, what?"

"Further analysis of your DNA proves to reveal traces of Samus's own in your genetic sequence," R.O.B. explained, as if he dealed with this kind of thing every day. For all I knew, he did. "It explains why you can operate the suit without it completely shutting down."

I stared blankly at my pencil. "…that is super freaking creepy," I muttered. "Why didn't you decide this was important information to tell me? I have the DNA of another human being a part of me. "

"It is less significant than the impact on your brother's DNA," R.O.B. replied, probably taking my last comment as a question. "He was actually turned into the exact Pikachu that participates in Brawl, with little variation for his own human mind. Secondly, Samus is not entirely human, but if there is any Chozo DNA mixed in with yours now as well, it is far too faint to be noticed or have an effect on your body."

"You are so lucky I'm not drinking anything right now or otherwise I'd be spit-taking all over your metallic robotic body," I told him.

"I am also fairly water-proof."

I sighed. "…okay, well, ignoring that, what else does this DNA have effect on my body besides giving me the lamest superpower ever and traces of another person in my DNA that allows me to operate the suit?" I asked, reasonably wanting to know.

"I have suspicions, but they will have to wait for your return," R.O.B. replied, making me huff in irritation.

"Oh, fantastic," I grit out, flicking the pencil back up the table with a bit more force than necessary. "But I'm not just Samus from some alternate reality, right? That would be creepy."

R.O.B. didn't say anything.

I turned to stare at him. "Right?" I repeated.

"Everything is possible—" R.O.B. started, after a long moment.

"—Oh, you've got to be kidding me—" I hissed, swiveling around to face him, brandishing the pencil threateningly.

"—though the chance of this happening is similar to one of you being struck by lightning while thirty-feet underground," R.O.B. finished, and everyone human in the room breathed a huge sigh of relief.

"Oh, thank GOD," I huffed, throwing myself over the metal table. "I feel bad for Bruce and all, being an exact copy of someone else, but I would not want to be him."

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

The light-blue zero-suit was torn in the front beyond repair—it's hard to repair a piece of clothing stronger than Kevlar anyways—so I ended up zipping on the black zero-suit that night in front of the mirror, looking speculatively at myself. The black felt appropriate, but still a little out of place, and I wished the blue-one hadn't been destroyed in the abs area so badly.

Was it just me how my hair was a little blonder than normal? Was it the sun in the desert and outside that had turned my normally dirty-blond hair a little lighter, a little paler, than normal? Was it a trick of the sunset-glow lighting in the room? Or was it something else?

Another thing changed by Samus?

For her, as her?

The plasma-gun felt light in my hand. I was still surprised they let me have it back for the time outside training. I hadn't been carrying it around like all the other occupants of the mansion, I wasn't that paranoid, that keyed up for battle yet, so it was a little strange to feel the black-and-gray whip in my hand.

Samus's black and gray whip.

I zipped the last bit of the suit up, pursing my lips as I stared at the mirror (and with it, myself). It looked fine, if the colors were a bit different to my eyes. I kind of wished it didn't look completely normal on me. I kind of wished it looked foreign, that the heavy-in-the-front boots didn't feel right on my feet after the size-too-big boots I'd been wearing all week.

Slowly, I raised the gun towards the mirror and at the figure who stared back.

I couldn't—or wouldn't—recognize her.

I dropped my arm, abruptly turning on my heel and sliding the gun onto my hip a little more brutally than I needed to, forcing the sudden surge of anger back and lunging for my self-control. The door swished open automatically as I left, and I didn't look back, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of my nose as I stormed down the hallway and out towards the grounds and past some unfortunate assist.

God. I was going to need some freaking therapy when I was done here.

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

Pit found me when I was adjusting the boots on the edge of a platform looking down into the outdoor fielded practice-arena (basically just a big stretch of grass with wooden stands surrounding it). I cringed as I watched him approach out of the corner of my eye, wondering if it was too late to pretend like I was actually leaving instead of starting—it was around sunset, after all. Not that I didn't like the guy or anything, come on, we'd consecutively saved each other's life over and over again, it was hard not to like him—but I almost didn't want the only guy with wings catching my next move.

"Hi," He greeted, once close enough, significantly more cheerful than he had been in the training room earlier. "What are you doing?"

"What are you doing?" I countered, blatantly avoiding the question as I pulled the final laces tight and stood. "Enjoying the sunset?"

It was mostly a joke, but Pit gave a lopsided sort of grin in response. "Something like that," he replied vaguely, and I gave him a long, okaaaaaaay, look. "But you didn't answer my question."

Why did all heroes have to be so flipping smart? I sighed, before looking off over the bleacures at the orange sky. "s'gonnatryflying," I muttered, not looking at him.

Pit gave me a strange look, smile amused. "What?"

"I was going to try flying," I said slightly louder, and a hundred times more tentatively, giving him a sort of side-glance out of the corner of my eye.

Pit gave a surprised glance down the zero-suit, lingering his gaze on the boots. "Samus's jets?"

I nodded, frantically thinking of an excuse to escape. "It doesn't matter though," I replied hastily. "I'm terrible. I'm—I'll probably just—"

"Oh, you need help?"

I gave Pit a sharp glance, giving him a once over. As always, his face was endearingly open and honest. God. He really did want to help. He probably wouldn't even laugh if I failed. "…you can?" I asked suspiciously.

"Sure," he shrugged. "I can teach you. I know you haven't had much time to practice."

"…you won't laugh?"

"Nope," he promised, smiling. "Promise."

I hesitated, still detachedly wondering if it was too late to escape. It was a good idea, learning to fly, considering how many times I'd nearly fallen to my death the past half a month, but— "Fine," I said after a long moment, briskly moving over to the wooden ledge breaking off from the stands. "Let's do this thing."

Pit suddenly flung out a hand, catching me across the chest and stopping me from moving forward. He looked straight ahead, not even glancing at me as he said, "Wait."

I shot him a look, wondering if this was one of those strange video-game-world rituals or some voodoo-angel flying-man-ship technique of speaking to the wind or something. Or something. "What?" I asked.

"Just wait," Pit replied, voice quiet, eyes flickering over the rapidly dimming grass-lands of the arena. "They always come about around this time."

I glanced up at the sky, frowning at the orange sunset-sky. "Who?" I asked, curious, looking over the field as well. "I don't—oh."

Like little fireflies, fist-sized orbs of white light began to flicker to life across the grasses. The bobbed and weaved, flickering in and out in patterns I couldn't decipher, first only one or two, then increasing as a full minute passed until several dozen were floating around the grasses, casting glows over the shadowy arena. They floated around the field, poofing and flickering on as the night becomes darker, lighting up the arena with little dots of light.

"…okay," I said, voice hushed as if not to scare them away, after a long moment, "that's pretty awesome. What are they?"

Pit smiled. "I always liked them," he said. "They're called Luminescents."

I wished I had to armor to tell me what region they were from in Nintendo, but I didn't and I didn't want to ask as if I might offend them and cause them to vanish. "Do they… are the safe?" I asked instead, voice still at a whisper.

"Oh, yeah. Completely," Pit nodded, smiling faintly. "They're friendly. They'll even help you out when you need it." He suddenly reached out and grabbed me by the arm, pulling us closer to the edge. "Come on. They've lit the stage."

"For what?" I asked, letting myself be pulled.

The avian grinned mischievously at me. "For dancing."

"...I will bite you," I told him, narrowing my eyes.

Pit laughed, the sound quietly echoing about the stage. "And I was told I was bad at metaphors. Flying, foolish mortal."

I grinned at him. "Is that what you call us weak humans?"

"Well, I am a heavenly being from above," Pit replied with a straight face. "Technically, you should be worshiping me."

I gave a mock sort of bow. "Oh, great and powerful, Pit. Do teach me your majestic ways of flight."

He flashed a grin at me. "Then let's go! Take a running start and jump! Don't get frustrated, or jump too hard—it's all about balance."

I gave him an angel, please, look. "I won't," I promised. Then, as an afterthought, I added, "I've been told I'm a quick learner."

And we flew.

Or, rather, danced.

On Noel: you haven't seen anything yet.
On Master Hand: it's a lot worse than you think.
On Bruce: it's Bruce.
On Pit: is the master of flight, obviously.
On Brittney: needs therapy. and maybe some ice-cream. because it solves all the world's problems.

AND FINALLY NEXT CHAPTER WE GET SOME ACTION. FINALLY. GOD. Remaining chapters follow loosely as: Action/Tears, Badassedry all around/extreme action, plot/final game-progression/more action, sucks-to-be-Brittney/fluff/could-be-considered-filler-chapter-but-I'm-going-to-call-it-character-development, game-plot progression, game-plot progression, really-really-bad-ideas/game-plot progression, all-time low, the invasion begins/wake-up call, final-battle, endgame.

There you go. Roughly eleven more chapters to go. * head-desk* Why is this so long? STOP IT BRAIN. STOP IT.

Sorry for the late-update, school restarted and kinda punched me in the face. I'd like to say another update this weekend, but my sister's birthday is this Tuesday and I kiiiiiiiiiiiindaa agreed to write a story for her. Which I will probably make a lot more longer than it has to be. Because I am me. And I haven't even started. And I'm so screwed. Arghhhhhhh. Most likely, next chapter next (technically this) Friday/Saturday.

UP AND COMING?! "Save it," Noel turned away, voice rough. "Your apologies mean nothing to me."

IN RESPONSE TO YOUR REVIEW

Draconis Kitten Sweetie: Well, this chapter was probably the most cute it's going to get in the rest of the story, so enjoy it. ;) I think. Well, there is that scene at the campfire with the hearts and how she (spoilers), and then on the Halberd when Pit (spoilers), or how about a the end when- (spoilers). Okay. So maybe there's a little more. Just for you. Haha. Sibling bonding is cute for most anything. :3 I must add some more. And little brothers, I know right? And if they make a fire-electric pokemon, I think many fanfiction writers would have an actual field day, haha. We're all holding our breaths. :3 Thank you so much for your review!

bitByte: Oh, you know. ;) A little incompetence here, a little walking into walls there-all mixed up with a little sarcasm, stupid ideas, and someone not knowing what the heck they're doing. Thanks so much for your review, and hope to hear from you again!

*salutes*

-Fleet