Brother's Loyalty

Pro Fratre

Walking down the dark corridor to the secret altar, the moment seemed surreal. It was as if the universe was somehow in slow motion save for him. The most mundane sounds were amplified by a million, from the soles of his brown suede boots striking the marble floor to his own voice humming and the ghosts humming along with him. With each step Luigi took, a cold, foreboding feeling manifested itself in his gut and squeezed his bowels. His heartbeat was through the roof, kicking against his ribcage as his Adam's apple kicked against his neck. Pausing in his trek, he took another look at the key he'd earned after his fight with Van Gore. This was it, and he didn't know what awaited him at that altar, but he'd meet it all the same.

The door to the secret altar glowed yellow, a glow which disappeared when Luigi arrived. And at that doorway, Luigi suddenly couldn't move as he heard a deep, throaty, sinister cackle. Dio, he was sweating as if he was standing in New York City on a humid summer day. He was once again sorely tempted to turn around, flee to the MK and declare Mario a lost cause. It would finally give him a time to shine, anyway. Luigi shook his head, chiding himself for thinking so selfishly, inserted the key in the lock and slowly turned it.

"I don't plan on giving up my favorite decoration. No—I like Mario exactly where he is."

Luigi's stomach stopped churning, the grip on his bowels disappeared and everything stopped as those words sent a blaze of anger into his soul.

"For Mario," he declared, yanking open the door and determinedly marching inside.

And he was promptly greeted with a horrific sight.

Mario looked significantly worse than when he first saw him in that painting. One eye was swollen shut, and his nose looked broken, blood seeping from both nostrils and from his mouth, as well. Sweat was cleansing the blood from his face, but that just allowed Luigi to see the awful bruises spattered all over it. Mario's iconic cap was knocked out of place and his hair was disheveled, strands of it stuck to his forehead. Bloody bite marks joined the cuts and slashes all over his body, and Luigi especially didn't like the way Mario clutched his side. Presently, the man in red was screaming curses, insults and threats at King Boo, who simply floated before the artistic prison, so close that they practically touched, leering sadistically at him and making mocking faces, taking visible delight in the sight of Mario bashing his fists against the canvas to no effect.

"Ahh—I could just stare at my Mario painting for hours," King Boo said with a pleasured sigh. "It's true what they say about fine art—it takes utterly refined sensibilities to truly appreciate it! The way you rant and rave and shout things that would make that guy from Full Metal Jacket blush, Mario—I find it so—arousing. Perhaps that's merely because I remember how much trouble you've caused me in the past—or perhaps it's just because you're that good-looking."

Closing his eyes, King Boo gave Mario's painting a slow, sensual upwards lick as the red-clad plumber recoiled in disgust. Luigi watched, fists clenched, quietly steaming.

"But seriously," King Boo continued, "Who would actually believe that mansions are given away in contests? Talk about stupid!"

Luigi gazed deeply into Mario's eyes. Mario, I got you into this. I'm sorry...

"What do they feed you Mario Bros anyway, gullible soup? But it all worked out for the best—at least for me!" He laughed as he lovingly caressed his "prize" with slow, repeated circular motions, trailing his appendage along Mario's face and upper torso as he did. "Your brother came all this way just to get turned into a painting. Ah, yes—getting to look at such a manly man every day will suit me just fine. However..."