Jump Up, Super Perps!
Author’s Note: Enjoy the story and R&R.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to or of the Super Smash Bros. series.
Bowser Jr. and the Koopalings are enlisted by Mayor Pauline to save New Donk City after Mr. Game & Watch runs amok and captures the Smash Tourney’s opening roster.
Metro Kingdom’s skyline was burning, a purple and orange smog pelted recurrently by the violent pops of misfired fireworks and erupting petrol drums. Sundry airships, chiefly the Power Moon-fuelled Odyssey crewed by Bonneter lionheart, Cappy, and a sail-rigged Sphynx, circled the central spire, scouting the catastrophe. Below, local authorities shone spotlights upon City Hall while struggling to keep a panicked conglomeration of citizens and out-of-towners behind plastic barricades.
Mayor Pauline reconnoitered the disaster via binoculars on the ground floor outside the lobby entrance, equal parts dedicated and fashionable in her sparkly red halter neck dress, gold bangle, teardrop earrings, and floppy hat. The metropolis’ latest festival had not gone according to plan.
At the recommendation of the councils for tourism and urban development, New Donk City was proud to host this year’s Smash Tourney, attracting diverse contestants and excitable crowds from throughout the known universes. For such a major milestone, Pauline had invited her good pal Mario to serve as master of ceremonies during the highbrow pre-show fiesta.
Following the Super Mario Players’ crowd-pleasing performance of “Jump Up, Super Star!” (featuring Pauline’s celebrity vocals), tragedy struck when an earthquake caught everybody by surprise. In the chaos, her bodyguards and the event organizers managed to safely evacuate guests onto the streets. Ambulances, fire trucks, paddy wagons, and police cruisers zipped in. The throng surrounded the base of the skyscraper, oohing and aahing at the surreal incident above.
Invading the tower’s upper levels writhed Mr. Game & Watch, one of the combatants who’d signed up to compete in this season’s championship. Only, his form was not that of a benign stick figure, but a monstrous, stories-tall octopus. He also appeared to be suffering a fungal infection, a toadstool jutting ponderously from his bulging coconut. Each of his eight oily tentacles restrained a member of the tournament’s luminaries: Mario, Donkey Kong, Link, Samus Aran, Yoshi, Kirby, Fox McCloud, and Pikachu.
“Pauline, Game & Watch is under the influence of Ramblin’ Evil Mushroom spores!” the constable informed her.
She heard the rumours. Ramblin’ Evil Mushrooms were a dangerous import said to have originated in Eagleland, a faraway country where walking nooses and anthropomorphic taxis assaulted the general populace. Their toxic effluvia instigated symptoms including loss of hand-eye coordination, dizziness, misdirected aggravation, and muscle spasms.
“What are your orders, Mayor?”
Pauline deliberated. The situation brought parallels to her traumatizing youth, when a less civil Cranky Kong liked to abduct her and parade her around as a human shield. Empoweringly, she’d grown all the more self-reliant since the experience and wasn’t the same flailing 1UP girl dependent on foreign aid.
Should she assemble Star Fox’s Arwings to execute a tactical strike?
Too risky. If Game & Watch retaliated using his tentacles, the neighbouring precincts might sustain damage.
Chef Kawasaki? Broiled octopus could table the emergency indefinitely.
No. The animal protection activists would have a field day.
Ironically, the municipality’s insurance compensated jumbo ape escapes. Not giant uncontrollable cephalopods.
“We’re out of time. I’m instituting Plan K!”
“You don’t mean –!”
“Afraid so. This is a job for the Green Team,” she adjudged. “Flag them.”
The bluecoat assented. Within minutes of him relaying the message on his walkie, the churlish honcho leading Pauline’s reinforcements responded to their SOS, stomping over, jumping manhole cover to manhole cover, in his fanged bib.
Bowser Jr. crunched a lobster on his baby tooth. “Your caterers need some work. This slop doesn’t taste of Isle Delfino! It tastes of Trouter Bay!”
“I’m not sure about this, Mayor…”
“Sometimes you have to bet on the bad guy.”
“Hee hee! Mario and his dumb friends are in quite the bind! Get it? Don’t despair, folks! We’ll rescue ’em!”
“And what is it you expect in return? Forgive me if I have trouble trusting the son of the fiendish overlord, King Koopa!” the cop denounced, suspicious.
“Wahahaha! Course my pop’s reputation precedes him.” Jr. jitterbugged. “Details, details! We can negotiate payment later!”
“Agreed. Brokering hours are at your discretion,” Pauline concurred.
Jr. hopped into his smiley-faced personal transport, which helilifted him to a scalable section of City Hall’s wall. Seven lackeys came a-running aboard their own daffy chariots, enclaving its foundation. Siblings? Underlings? The jury was undecided regarding their exact relationship.
“Larry!” the mohawked minion yelled.
“Morton!” the gruff, black-starred bruiser roared.
“Wendy!” the princess in a bow whooped.
“Iggy!” the skew-visioned loony ahoyed.
“Roy!” the lummox wearing pink sunglasses bellowed.
“Lemmy!” the wacky wassailer yipped.
“Ludwig!” the savant orated.
Bowser Jr. and his ambiguous relatives karted up the side of the building in their Junior Clown Cars, tires screeching, like eight balls of electricity racing along spark pylons. When they reached the summit, they fanned out.
An enraged Mr. Game & Watch surged forward.
They scattered, staving him off utilizing the bits and blades of drills and buzz saws.
“Larry, mind your six! Wendy, on defence! Everyone, bombs away!”
The punsters abandoned ship as each craft self-destructed, kamikazeing the octopus’ limbs. Beset by explosions, he lost his stranglehold on his hostages, who leapt, spun, inflated, rocketed, and Quick Attacked to the ledge.
The audience cheered.
Bombarded back to normal, Mr. Game & Watch woundedly parachuted down. An EMS vehicle sped him off in the direction of New Donk General for immediate medical treatment.
Ejected from their pods and surviving by withdrawing into their shells prior to thumping the asphalt, Bowser Jr. and his gang confronted their adoring (and abhorring) public, itching to collect.
"Peons, bow before your new rulers!"
Morton tried to browbeat Pauline, but raised dukes and deployed weaponry interrupted.
The freed heroes had arrived.
Mario pointed F.L.U.D.D. at Bowser Jr. Donkey Kong cracked his knuckles across Larry. Link flashed his sword to Morton. Samus targeted Wendy with her arm cannon. Yoshi unwound his tongue, teasing Iggy. Kirby swung his mallet opposite Roy. Fox trained his blaster on Lemmy. And Pikachu whipped his Iron Tail toward Ludwig.
The world-famous protagonists posed athwart Bowser’s scion and the Koopalings, promising an ultimate showdown.
Who would be the first to blink?
“I’m telling Dad on you!” Bowser Jr. barrelled out of there. “Till next we meet, Mario! Bwahahaha! See you on the battlefield!”
As the varmints fled, the gallery huzzaed again, this time for the home team. Then, after making certain her constituents were well taken care of, Pauline and the Super Mario Players regrouped, doing an encore of their beloved hit single. A jazzy start to the rock 'em, sock 'em Smash Tourney ahead.