SMASH GAMES 2: CHAOS | Super Smash Bros.

13 - The Chickens

Rosalina 

After a good night's rest, she dressed in a green gown and copied Dr. Mario by heading down to the armory-or Vault, as the ROBs referred to it. 

Speaking of Dr. Mario, she hadn't seen him for some time: two days, now. She last remembered waving to him as he disappeared with his pill rifle into the woods at the foot of the hill. She hoped that he was all right, and that his prolonged absence was caused by his inability to catch his Prey. 

As opposed to being turned into a trophy himself. 

Her worry for Dr. Mario was eclipsed by excitement as she perused the Vault like she would a shopping mall, looking for a suitable weapon to go hunting with. There were so many-guns and swords and knives and bows and cannons-but she eventually settled for her wand and something called a Trophy Gun. She supposed arming herself with one of those would be a boon, since they were supposed to turn the Prey into trophies. She also took one of the backpacks hanging from a long row in the back of the Vault. The row was nearly empty now-everyone had taken one before they'd gone after their Prey. 

And now it was her turn. 

Doubt suddenly hit her then, doubt about this whole venture, of the purpose of the Games. She remembered Sarah and how she'd rebelliously tossed Rosalina her locator the previous night. Was Sarah right? Was rebellion the way to go? Should she give up any chance that she had at winning, just to rub her nose at whoever was coordinating this? 

She shook her head and clipped her bag closed. No, Sarah was in the wrong on this one. Yes, Rosalina could understand where she was coming from, but rebellion was not the solution to this problem. 

Winning the Games was. 

"Come along Luma," Rosalina said when she was done packing. "Let's win these Games."

Sarah's Prey had moved on since the previous night: the map on the watch had zoomed out to show Rosalina the sobering amount of distance that now lay between her and her target. She frowned in distaste. She didn't exercise much-she came by her slender frame naturally. She'd probably kill herself from exertion trying to cross that distance on foot. 

Luckily, it looked as though she wouldn't have to.  

"Why yes, our teleporters are the finest in the industry," the ROB said as he led her through the first floor of the Barracks main house. "The farthest we've transported something has been 3,100,000 miles. Quite an impressive number, wouldn't you say?" 

Rosalina was impressed. "You've teleported someone that far?" 

ROB paused at a door labeled "Mechanical" and peeked inside. "Er, well, no," he said. "Not someone. Something. A box of CDs." 

She was suddenly unsure. "But you've tried people before, right?" 

"Oh yes!" the ROB assured her as he opened the Mechanical door fully and ushered her inside. "Plenty of ROBs and even one dog! The dog lost all of its hair on the other side of transport, but other than that, our record is spotless!" 

Rosalina blanched and worriedly twirled a lock of her pale hair as she stepped into the room. It was a small room, cluttered mostly by pipes that extended into the walls and ceiling. But a small area off to the side was clear of any tubes or turbines, and held nothing save for a small circular platform about the size of a rug. A square computer sat nearby.  

"So, if you'll please step onto the platform," the ROB said as it scooted behind the computer. Rosalina and Luma nervously mounted the circular platform as the ROB began furiously typing on the keypad. "Coordinates?" he asked.