Brother's Loyalty: Endgame

Hey Brother

[Content/Trigger Warning: Discussion of sexual assault/non-con]

Flashback—October 2001

He has no idea what's happening. Something zaps him once, and then again. He can't help but yowl at the pain. Then, he's whisked along a conveyor belt into some sort of aqueous solution—and then the tossing begins. Tossing and churning—the motion is nauseating. And he wants it to stop. He wants to know who's doing this to him and why. He's been tortured enough as it is tonight.

Now, he's been deposited into something, which shoots him into an unfamiliar room. There's a frame around his neck. A strange old man is talking to him. Everything is spinning and spinning and spinning—

And then it stops.

He recognizes a sound.

Laughter.

And crying.

The frame is gone from his neck, and he's free turn his head about, looking for the source of that familiar sound. Because he knows now that it's his brother, laughing and crying, relieved that he's all right.

And then he finds him, standing there, bruised and bloodied, his body shivering and heaving as laughs and sobs escape from his lips, that singular contraption on his back. The world steadies, and the agony he was subjected to doesn't matter anymore. A sense of normalcy returns, and with it a sense of comfort.

He hears Luigi say his name, and he smiles.

"Luigi," he replies. "Hey, hey. Luigi..."

"Mario!"

And then Luigi darts across the room and falls to his knees beside him, pulling him into his arms.

"Luigi," Mario says again, completing the brotherly embrace. "My Luigi. My bro—my brave, brave baby bro..."

And Luigi lets out one wrenching sob after another as Mario comforts him with his touch and his words. But as it sinks in that he's truly safe, that the psychotic king is sealed away, Mario's own façade cracks, and he, too, begins sobbing. The Bros kneel there in that room, clinging to each other, crying and crying and crying, beginning to recover from a long, traumatizing night.

Flash-forward—March 2013

A multicolored beam shines in his face, and he feels it drawing him out of his artistic prison. The effect is slightly disorienting; he doesn't know if he's gonna land on his feet or on his face. But then he sees his brother standing there, bruised and bloodied, that singular contraption on his back, training the multicolored beam on him. As gravity takes hold of Mario, he sees Luigi holster the vacuum's nozzle and hold out his arms.

And Mario aims his body straight for them.

A soft landing.

Automatically, Mario throws his arms around Luigi's shoulders, feeling his brother's arms round the small of his back. And they sink to their knees, hugging and hugging and hugging as Luigi joyfully cries out his brother's name in relief.

"You've done it again," Mario breathes. "You saved my life. Way to go—you're number one!"

"I—did it?" Luigi repeats.