Mario's multiverse journey
The Ghost in the Red Overalls
The neon-drenched alleyway of this new, cybernetic world felt colder than the frozen wastes of Copper-9. Rain that smelled of ozone and recycled oil pattered against the rusted metal crates, but the usual chaos of the group was replaced by a deafening, hollow silence.
"Mario?" Tari’s voice trembled, her cybernetic eye darting left and right. "Mario, where are you?"
V straightened up, her wings snapping open with a violent hiss of hydraulics. She scanned the area, her visor cycling through heat signatures, X-ray, and motion tracking. "The idiot isn't here. My sensors... I can't find his heartbeat. I can't find that stupid, loud heartbeat!"
Akagi and Kaga emerged from the shadows of the boxes, their fox tails bristling. The usual predatory grace of the Sakura Empire carriers was gone, replaced by a frantic, high-strung energy. Akagi’s blue fox-fire flickered weakly in the damp air.
"The Commander is gone," Akagi whispered, her voice cracking. "I can't feel his bond. It’s like... like he was erased."
"Look," Meggy said, pointing a shaking finger toward the end of the alley.
A massive, holographic billboard, easily forty feet high, flickered to life. It didn't show advertisements for "Slurm" or the latest cyber-implants. Instead, it displayed a grainy, flickering image of a cramped, dimly lit room. It looked like a basement—drab, smelling of mildew and old wood.
The group huddled together, drawn to the screen by a morbid, magnetic pull.
On the screen, a small child sat on a threadbare rug. He had a mop of dark hair and was wearing a pair of oversized, hand-me-down red pajamas. He was humming a disjointed, happy tune, playing with two wooden blocks. He was trying to make them look like a house.
"Is that... is that Mario?" Luigi gasped, clutching his chest. "That’s our old house. Back in Brooklyn. I remember those blocks."
The girls leaned in, their expressions softening. V’s yellow eyes dimmed to a soft glow. "He was... small. And quiet," she muttered, a strange glitch in her vocal processor making her sound almost gentle.
"He looks so innocent," Kaga murmured, her stoic mask slipping. "Like a flickering candle in the dark."
Then, the heavy thud of boots echoed through the speakers of the billboard. A shadow fell over the child, a towering, bloated silhouette that blotted out the light from the doorway.
A man stepped into the frame. He looked like an older, uglier, and much meaner version of the plumber they knew. He held a half-empty bottle in one hand and a heavy leather belt in the other.
"You worthless little brat!" the man roared, his voice distorted and booming like a thunderstorm. "I told you to clean the pipes! Why are you playing with trash?!"
The little Mario on the screen didn't cry. He didn't scream. He simply curled into a ball, tucking his head between his knees, a practiced motion that suggested he had done this a thousand times.
"Papa, I'm-a sorry," the child whispered. "I just wanted to build a home."
"I'll give you a home!" the man snarled.
The screen blurred as the belt swung. The sound that followed—the wet, heavy thud of leather against skin—made Tari scream and bury her face in SMG4’s shoulder. Meggy turned away, her teeth clenched so hard her jaw ached.
V’s visor flickered violently, a jagged red 'X' appearing and disappearing. Her claws dug into the brickwork of the alleyway, carving deep furrows into the stone. "I’ll kill him," she hissed, the nanite acid in her tail bubbling. "I’ll rip his spark out through his throat. I’ll dismantle every atom of that man."
Akagi was shaking, her crimson eyes wide and leaking tears that sizzled against her glowing fox-fire. "How... how could anyone lay a hand on him? He is the sun... he is everything..."
The billboard flickered, fast-forwarding through time.
The scenes changed like a strobe light of misery. Mario at ten, standing in a corner with a bruised eye while his father laughed in the background. Mario at fifteen, working three jobs just to buy a loaf of bread, only to have the money snatched away. Mario at twenty, sitting alone in a dark apartment, staring at a plate of plain, unseasoned noodles with eyes that were starting to lose their shine.
With every leap forward, the Mario on the screen grew larger, but his spirit seemed to shrink. The vibrant, "Wahoo-ing" idiot they knew was nowhere to be found. This Mario was a ghost in a red shirt. He moved with a heavy, sluggish gait. He didn't smile. He didn't jump. He just... existed.
"He stopped fighting back," SMG4 whispered, his voice thick with guilt. "I've known him for years, and I never... I never knew it was this bad. I thought he was just a moron. I didn't know he was... broken."
"He isn't a moron," Meggy said, her voice trembling with a mix of rage and sorrow. "He’s a survivor. He made himself an idiot because being smart hurt too much. If he’s 'stupid,' he doesn't have to remember the belt. If he’s 'crazy,' he doesn't have to feel the loneliness."
The screen settled on a final image. It was Mario, shortly before he had met SMG4. He was sitting on a park bench in the rain. His eyes were completely void of light—two black pits of nothingness staring at a puddle. He looked like a man who was waiting for the world to simply end.
"He was giving up," Kaga whispered, her hand over her mouth. "His soul was flickering out."
Suddenly, the hologram shifted. The dark alleyway was illuminated by a blinding white light as a figure materialized in front of the billboard.
It was Mario. But not the Mario they knew.
He was standing perfectly still, his head bowed. He wasn't wearing the commander's uniform or his overalls. He was back in his basic red shirt and blue pants, but they looked dull, as if the color had been leeched out of them. He didn't look up when they called his name.
"Mario!" Luigi ran forward, reaching out to grab his brother’s arm.
His hand passed right through Mario’s shoulder. The plumber was a ghost—a hollow projection of his own subconscious.
"It’s no use, Luigi," a new voice echoed.
From the shadows of the portal's residue, a tall, slender figure stepped out. It was a drone, but not like V. This one was draped in tattered black robes, its visor displaying a constant, weeping eye symbol.
"Who the hell are you?" V demanded, her cannons leveled at the newcomer's head.
"I am the Archivist of Grief," the drone replied, its voice a haunting melody of static. "This realm is not a city of the future. It is a manifestation of the Commander’s mind—the parts he buried under layers of spaghetti, memes, and madness. The portal didn't take him to a new world. It took him *inside*."
"Why are you showing us this?" Akagi demanded, her tails lashing. "Give him back! Restore him!"
"He does not want to be restored," the Archivist said, gesturing to the hollow Mario. "The weight of his past has finally caught up to his present. The 'idiot' persona has collapsed. What you see now is the truth. The man who has nothing left to give."
V walked up to the hollow Mario. She was a machine built for killing, a creature that thrived on the screams of others, but as she looked into those empty, dark eyes, she felt a surge of something she couldn't explain. It wasn't hunger. It wasn't bloodlust. It was a desperate, burning need to see a spark—any spark—return to him.
She reached out, her metallic hand hovering just inches from his cheek. "Hey. Dum-dum."
The hollow Mario didn't move.
"Listen to me," V growled, her voice uncharacteristically soft. "I don't care about your dad. I don't care about the basement. I don't even care that you’re a meat-bag who smells like old cheese. You’re the only thing in this entire universe that isn't boring. You’re the only thing that made me stop wanting to kill everything for five seconds."
She stepped closer, her visor touching his forehead. "If you stay like this... if you give up... then I’ve got nothing left to hunt. And I’m not letting you go that easily."
Akagi and Kaga knelt on either side of him. Akagi took his hand, her fox-fire warming the cold, holographic air. "Commander... please. The Empire is dark without you. I don't care if you're a genius or a fool. I just want to hear you laugh again. Even if it’s at something stupid."
"We will be your shield," Kaga added, her voice firm. "The past is a ghost that cannot hurt you as long as we stand guard. Let us carry the weight for a while."
Meggy stepped forward, wiping her eyes. "Mario, you’re my best friend. You’re the most annoying, gross, and ridiculous person I’ve ever met. And I wouldn't trade you for anyone. Come back to us. We’ll go get spaghetti. The good kind. I'll even let you win at Splatfest."
The hollow Mario’s hand twitched.
A single, golden spark appeared in the center of his chest. It was small, no bigger than a firefly, but it pulsed with a familiar, rhythmic energy.
"He’s fighting," SMG4 said, a hopeful grin breaking through his tears. "Come on, Mario! Don't let some old memories beat you! You’re the guy who defeated gods with a tuxedo and a raw chicken!"
The golden spark grew, spreading like wildfire through the holographic projection. The dull red of his shirt began to brighten. The void in his eyes started to fill with a mischievous, twinkling light.
"Mama..."
The voice was faint, but it was there.
"Mia..."
With a sudden, violent burst of energy, the hollow Mario solidified. The holographic shimmer vanished, and a very real, very heavy plumber collapsed into the arms of the two fox girls and the murder drone.
"Oof!" Mario groaned, rubbing his head. He looked up, blinking at the sea of worried faces.
For a moment, he didn't say anything. He looked at V, then at Akagi, then at his brother. The 'idiot' mask didn't immediately slide back into place. His eyes were clear, sad, but incredibly strong.
"You guys... saw the movie?" Mario asked quietly.
"We saw it, bro," Luigi said, hugging him tightly. "We saw everything."
Mario stayed silent for a long time. Then, he let out a long, shaky breath. He reached up and patted V’s head, then Akagi’s.
"Mario is... Mario is tired of that movie," he said, his voice regaining some of its usual pitch. "It’s a boring movie. No explosions. No spaghetti. Zero stars on Rotten Tomatoes."
He stood up, wobbling slightly on his feet. He looked at the Archivist, who was fading into the neon mist.
"Hey! Mr. Spooky!" Mario shouted. "Next time, show the movie where Mario eats a hundred tacos! That one is a classic!"
The Archivist tilted its head, a faint smile appearing on its visor. "As you wish, Commander. The trauma remains, but the spirit is... resilient."
As the Archivist vanished, the neon city began to dissolve. The walls of the alleyway crumbled into purple pixels, and the familiar, swirling vortex of the portal opened up once more in the center of the street.
"Is it taking us home?" Tari asked hopefully.
"Probably not," SMG4 sighed. "But at least we’re together."
Mario looked at the portal, then back at his group. He saw V checking her claws, Akagi glaring at V, and Meggy checking her ink tanks. He saw his family.
"Alright!" Mario cheered, throwing his fist into the air. "New world! New spaghetti! Let’s-a go!"
He dived into the portal without a second thought.
V followed immediately, her wings tucked tight. "Hey! Don't you dare leave me behind, you round idiot!"
Akagi and Kaga leapt in after them, their tails trailing like comets.
As the rest of the crew jumped through, the neon city fell silent. The billboard flickered one last time, showing a final image: Mario, standing in the middle of his friends, laughing so hard he was turning red.
The 'Ghost in the Red Overalls' was gone. In his place was a man who, despite everything, chose to be happy.
And in a multiverse of chaos, that was the most powerful thing of all.