Brother's Loyalty

Respite

Gadd was waiting for Luigi when he arrived at the lab, a big smile forming on his face when he saw the younger man. "Welcome back, Luigi!" he cried, hugging him. "Thank God you made it back in one piece. And I must say, you did a good job for your first try!"

"Thank you, Professor," said Luigi. "Listen—is there a safe place we can store these ghosts, like a vault or something?"

"I'm glad you asked," said Gadd, leading Luigi to several large machines connected by a conveyor belt.

"Take a gander at this," he said. "This fine piece of work took nearly 20 years to develop! I call it—the Ghost Portrificationizer! It will allow us to turn the ghosts you've caught into paintings."

"That way, the ghosts can't hurt us," said Luigi. "That's brilliant!"

Gadd nodded. "Not only that, it works in reverse, too!"

Works in reverse, thought Luigi. Something tells me that will come in handy later.

"How does it work?" asked Luigi.

"Simple," said Gadd. "Just plug that Poltergust 3000 into this slot over here and enjoy the ride."

So, Luigi inserted the Poltergust's nozzle into the aforementioned slot and immediately felt the vacuum's weight decrease as the ghosts he captured were pulled into the Portrificationizer. Then, he stepped back to watch the process.

Three drop-shaped forms were deposited into a tank, which began to rapidly churn. Then, they were rolled out onto picture frames and wheeled down a conveyor belt toward some sort of compress. Speaking of compresses, Luigi could use several cold compresses right now.

"The ghosts are invisible," Gadd was saying, "so we need to press them into visible forms."

The frames were now passed through an electric current before being inserted into a slot on the other side of the room.

"Then, they'll be beautiful ghost portraits," said Gadd.

He then got a closer look at Luigi.

"My word—they've really put you through the wringer. Here, let me get you some ice..."

A minute later, Luigi was seated in the living area, sighing in relief as Gadd applied ice packs to the worst of his bruises. The ice helped, but love was more potent than a mere cold compress.

"It still kinda hurts," young Luigi would say after a bruise or a scratch or a scrape or whatever had been treated. And little Mario would smile at his baby bro and say, "I can fix that." He'd lean down and trail kisses along every injury Luigi sustained, and soon he'd forget about the pain. He didn't have to hurt, and he didn't have to worry, because Mario was there. Of course, Luigi would do the exact same for Mario's "boo-boos", and he'd take pride in knowing that he could soothe his brother's pain as effectively as Mario could soothe his.

Even in adulthood, it still worked. Their—unique line of work had them taking a lot of poundings, but that pain couldn't hold a candle to a brother's kiss.

"These ghosts aren't going down without a fight," said Luigi. "I don't know what they want with Mario, but they're not about to let him go. When I was in the parlor, they taunted me about him." He breathed shakily. "Are the portrait ghosts in on this, too? Or are they being manipulated—or worse, forced into doing the other ghosts' bidding?"

"I can't say for sure," said Gadd, "but some of these ghosts led peaceful lives. I know they wouldn't participate in this of their own free will."

"I'm curious about them now," said Luigi, wincing as he agitated a bruise. "What were their lives like? How did they die? Neville—did he always have his nose stuck in a book? Did that contribute to his death? He wasn't paying attention to anything else and got hit by a car or fell or...?"

"Neville did love to read," said Gadd. "As for how he and the others died—I don't think you need those images in your head just yet."

"And Lydia—she was vain," said Luigi. "Always fussing over her hair and fawning over her reflection. I wonder if her vanity did her in, too. But their baby, Chauncey—he was difficult. First, he threw plush bears at me. Then, when I hit him with one of those bouncing balls, he grew really angry, shrunk me and somehow transported me to his crib for a knock-down, drag-out fight. Which begs the question—did Neville and Lydia ever discipline their son? Or did they spoil him rotten and let him run wild?"

"Well..." said Gadd. "The two of them are simply—making up for lost time. In life, they were deprived of the opportunity to raise him."

"Dio—he was—stillborn?"

Gadd nodded solemnly. "Reunited with their son in death, they seek to lavish him with all of the love and affection they can," he said. "So, it's understandable if they've been a bit lax in disciplining him." He removed the cold compresses. "Do you feel better?"

"Yeah," said Luigi.

"All righty," said Gadd. "I'll fix us some more lemonade."

"I could—use something a little stronger now," said Luigi. "Do you have any sweet wine?"

"In fact, I do," said Gadd.

He crossed the room to the refrigerator, where he extracted two bottles of Moscato. Then, he fetched a bottle opener and two wine glasses before setting everything on the low table.

"Neville, Lydia and their son are back in my gallery," said Gadd, popping the cork on one of the bottles and pouring the wine into the glasses. "Thanks for your help, Luigi."

Luigi accepted the glass offered to him. "Cheers," he said.

"Cheers," said Gadd.

The two men toasted and drank.

So many times, Luigi would talk things out with Mario over a bottle of sweet wine, their music playing on low. Most often, they'd pair the wine with their favorite pasta, or at the very least some garlic bread, to prevent them from getting too tipsy. Nothing like a little comfort food to help sort out a misunderstanding and comb through the tangles of their brotherly bond...

There was another dull, throbbing pain, but it wasn't physical—it was the pain deep inside. Luigi could think of no one else but Mario, lost and confused in a strange place, possibly hurt. Possibly—freaked out? No. Mario was the bravest person he knew—nothing freaked him out. Not even an overgrown turtle. Not even a disgruntled former circus ape (they eventually talked things out, but still).

But if what Gadd said was true, then Mario was a sitting duck without any assistance. Those ghosts—what could they be doing to him right now?

Luigi knocked back the last of his wine, stood up and slid the Poltergust back on.

Gadd looked surprised. "You're going back?"

"Every moment I spend here sipping wine is another moment Mario spends at the ghosts' mercy," said Luigi. "I have to go back."

Gadd nodded. "I believe in you," he said.

Luigi turned on his heel and walked out of the lab, Gadd waving after him. His respite was over.