Prologue

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The year was 2018. Trump was President. Those who were either kids or teens during the first Super Smash Brothers tournament back in 1999 were now all grown up, and some of them had children of their own. And nearly twenty years after it all began, a brand-new tournament took the Nintendo multiverse by storm, Super Smash Brothers Ultimate!

And the best part? Everyone was here. Everyone from Smash get-togethers past, from those who only showed up in 2001's Melee to those who only showed up in 2008's Brawl. Even those who didn't make the cut for 2014's tournament were welcomed back. Old faces reunited with the "perfect attendance roster"—friends and foes they haven't seen in a long time. Along with these old faces were new faces—those who never thought they'd see the Smash Battlefield in their lifetime. Master Hand had spared no expenses this time around. Everyone was here. Everyone.

The giant glove himself sat at his desk in his spacious office, working on his computer. His twin, Crazy Hand, was absorbed in watching lolcat videos on his laptop. Just a typical day.

That is, until someone knocked on the door.

"Enter," said MH.

A blond-haired Mii named Charlotte—"Charlie" to those around the Smash Mansion—strode into the office, clad in an outfit resembling a certain man in green.

"Hi, guys," she said.

"Hey, Charlie," said MH.

"Hiya, Charlie," said CH, looking up from his lolcat videos.

"Is he ready?" asked MH.

Charlie nodded. "I have him in the Waiting Area. He looks—okay—considering..."

MH held up his pointer finger, stopping her. "I prefer to leave certain events in the past," he said. "Thank you, Charlie."

The Mii nodded and withdrew, the Hand of Creation following her out of his office and down the halls of the Smash Mansion toward the Waiting Area.

When they got there, Charlie rapped on the door. "L? Master Hand is here," she said.

"Okay. Let him in," said a voice.

Charlie stepped aside, and MH pushed open the doors to find a brown-haired young man seated on one of the benches, his back to the Hand of Creation. This man wore a soft pink hat on his head and was clad in a shirt of the same color, a pair of burgundy overalls completing the ensemble. Presently, the shirt was rolled halfway up, and when MH looked closer, he saw why.

A gloved finger methodically traced a scar reaching across his abdomen and upper chest, resembling the graph of a reverse function. It was a mark which blemished his otherwise tanned and muscle-toned body. The man then grumbled something, allowed the shirt to fall over him and then fastened the overalls.

"Hey, L," greeted Master Hand. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

Luigi swiveled around and looked at MH with bright, blue eyes. "Don't worry," he said cheerily. "You're not."

MH took a seat beside the plumber. "You—wanna talk about it?" he asked.

"Nah. I'm good," smiled Luigi. "I think this is the better way."

"L—are you sure you want to do this now? Because you can take your time."

"Well," said Luigi, "better here than laying around in my room."

He hopped to his feet, energy circling around him. "I must say—this is very creative," he mused, "creating a Classic Mode route specifically tailored to each fighter. You've really outdone yourself, MH."

"Of course. That's why it's called Super Smash Brothers Ultimate," MH said smartly. "Now, come along. Your route is about to start."

"Oh, yeah!" Luigi cried. "Let's-a go!"

As he followed MH out of the Waiting Area, Luigi's face hardened, and he pounded a determined fist into his palm. Today was the day that he was gonna face down all of his worst nightmares!

"Sono pronto," he murmured to himself.


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