Chapter Text
Round 6: Day 7
The Ball Game
Smash Mansion
Main Foyer
1000
Quinn came down the grand staircase in gear. He had been aware of this for days, but the thought didn’t make him any less uneasy. He parked on one of the couches lining the wall, basking in the Mansion’s unusual silence. With only three contenders left, the Smashers who had already been eliminated trained amongst the heroes of their own world, leaving the Mansion’s facilities barren.
“Yo!” called a voice from the top of the staircase.
Luigi trotted down the stairs, a New York Yankees over a green t-shirt in the place of his usual garb.
“So uh,” said the plumber, “Looking forward to this?”
Whatever Quinn had done with his face in the moment caused Luigi to chuckle suddenly.
“It’s alright kid,” Luigi laid a comforting hand on his shoulder, “Me an’ Mario did a ton of promotional work for this place. It’s easy as pie, you just sit at a table and talk to fans, then we go up in a suite and watch the game.”
“Yeah, that’s the problem,” huffed Quinn.
“What, talkin’ to people?”
“Yeah,”
Luigi gave a warm, fatherly smile.
“My advice?” he said, “ Just ask how the city is treatin’ em, or how they’re enjoying the tournament. There’s a lot you can assume we have in common.”
Quinn nodded, “Yeah, sure, sure.”
“Just follow my lead bud,” Luigi said, “We’ll have fun with it.”
“Ready to go bro?”
The two looked to the grand staircase, Mario and Peach walked down the stairs now, each adorned in Yankees jerseys and matching warm-up pants, but the real main event was behind them. Rosalina and Daisy were both adorned in Cardinals jerseys, each wearing the shortest denim shorts they could find.
“So Quinn, how do we look?” Rosalina purred.
Quinn and Luigi shot each other impish grins. Daisy cackled with laughter as the foursome reached the bottom of the stairs.
“You act like I don’t dress sexy for you all the time,” she shouted.
“Well, every time you do, I find out I have a new thing, like girls in baseball jerseys for example.”
“Yeah..um…seconded,” Quinn added, any civilized thought he had dying in his head.
Simultaneously, Daisy and Rosalina wrapped their arms around their respective beaus, planting deep, loud kisses on them.
“Did you two synchronize that?” Peach balked.
Rosalina immediately bristled, but Daisy was much more open.
“Hell yeah we did,” she said.
“It was her idea,” exclaimed Rosalina, “All her’s!”
Peach scoffed, “Honestly, you two are animals sometimes.”
Hastily mumbling something about etiquette, Peach opened a portal to their destination. As she did, Quinn glanced at Mario, whose perpetual smile seemed even wider than usual.
“Excited for this?” he asked.
Mario nodded, “Yeah, did a little recon here when we were recruiting Mac. In all the Multiverse it was as close to New Donk as I’d ever seen. Plus, it’s got connections to the world of the creators in terms of athletes, from all over every sports’ history.”
“What’re we waiting for then,” Quinn asked the group, smiling as wide as he could, “Let’s go!”
Mario only grinned as Quinn tore past them, grabbing Rosalina by the hand, and jumping into the portal.
“That’s my line kid,”
And with that, the remaining group stepped through the portal. Mario chuckled as he brushed past Quinn and Rosalina.
“Yeah, you should probably take the lead on this one,” Quinn mumbled, barely heard through Rosalina’s snickering.
“A little too eager are we?” Mario shot a knowing smile over his shoulder as he and Peach walked.
“Dude, if you weren’t already the head honcho, you’d have taken the lead,” Daisy protested as she and Luigi stepped out of the portal.
Quinn glanced at Rosalina as the six walked to the baseball stadium. Something had just dawned on her.
Daisy picked up on it too, “You’re right Rosey he is a lot like Mario.”
A spring in his step, Quinn kept behind Mario and Peach on their way into the stadium. Upon pushing through the door, a man in a neatly pressed military uniform awaited them.
“Ah,” he said, “You must be Mister Marmaduke and Miss Rosalina. My name is Lieutenant General Kanesaw Vincent Frick, but you can call me Bud because you’re about to make me a lot of money young man,” he said, pointing to Quinn.
“I am?” squeaked Quinn.
The man’s immaculately trimmed eyebrows furrowed “Of course you are my boy! You’re the most famous pugilist in this town since Little Mac himself. What’s more, we’ve got some find dames with us! Yes sir yes sir, you will draw in the crowd indeed.”
Peach visibly stiffened at the sexist buffoonery. Quinn shot a glance behind him. The fake smile plastered on Daisy could’ve killed a man.
“These,” he said gesturing to two foldable tables erected directly behind him, “Will be where you’ll be signing their autographs. The merchandise will be here soon. Doors open at 11, and the game starts at 1. At 12:30 some of my assistants will take you up to the suite.”
Frick’s long legs took him into the excess of the stadium before he could blink. Daisy’s facade immediately dropped.
“Geez,” she said, “I thought he’d never leave.”
1129
Quinn thumbed through the merchandise a million times. Quinn’s name was emblazoned across custom Cardinals jerseys. Flimsy baseballs and uncomfortable ball caps bore his name. He squeezed the ball.
“Wonder if I could crush this with enough pressure?”
“What was that dear?”
Quinn looked up. Mario, Daisy, and Rosalina were engaged in their own conversation. Peach had been off in her own world, but his musings had been concerning enough to snap her back to it.
Of course, Quinn sighed, Every time.
“I-” Quinn stammered, “I was wondering if I could crush these balls with enough pressure.”
“Flimsy, are they?”
She took a ball from the bucket and squeezed. Her eyes widened.
“By the Seven Stars, they are!” she exclaimed, “Perhaps, they are more ceremonial than anything.”
“Doors are opening!” shouted a stadium employee, as she and her partner opened the doors.
“Just like us huh?” Quinn said.
A tight-lipped grin befell the princess of the Mushroom kingdom.
“It’ll be fine dear.”
Quinn blinked. In a flash, Mario and Peach had gone. Instinctively, Quinn searched the stadium for Rosalina, but she had gone too.
Oh no, thought Quinn
1229
Peach was wrong It was not fine.
Luigi’s line was filled with families and Sarasalandians who wanted an up-close photo with their king. The Mii Brawler watched with envy as Luigi and Daisy tousled the hair of smiling children and bantered back and forth with the awestruck people of Sarasaland.
Quinn, meanwhile, had been beleaguered by superfans all day long, asking him inane questions about the tournament, and some of the other Smashers. Quinn had kept mum, not wanting to fuel the infinite rumor mill, whose only purpose seemed to be churning out wannabe journalists, anymore, quickly signing what merch was at the top of the pile, and moving on. Yet, when a large man with an impossibly huge afro bore down at him, a smirk on his face, Quinn’s inner voice begged for the turbonerds to come back.
“My name,” said the man in a thick accent, “Is Horatio Haitian Hot.”
“Oh, hello,” Quinn said.
“I spit in the face, of people who don’t want to be hot.”
Quinn withered, “Please don’t.”
The man frowned, “I’m an independent wrestling superstar.”
“I’m sure you are, but if you weren’t in the Battle Royal, I’ve never heard of you.”
Just as the man took an aggressive chomp of his apple, two security guards were at their best. “It’s 12:30, we’ve got to get these folks to their seats, autograph time is over.” said a man.
And like a flash, they were off, another flock of stadium employees left to deal with the grumbling fans and unsigned merch. Daisy and Luigi bid their fans goodbye, hurriedly saying they’d be back in town for something else, but Quinn bade them no such niceties.
“Hey kid,” Luigi said once they were out of earshot of the fans, “You did good.”
“Did I though?” Quinn asked as they hustled to the top of the stadium.
“You didn’t punch anyone,” Daisy offered, “Which I woulda done, judging by the goofs you had in your line.”
“It’s what Falco did,” Luigi remembered, “Duel, remember?”
Daisy’s face brightened in realization “Oh wow, yeah that was here wasn’t it?”
“I was surprised with how okay The Colonel was with it until I realized they sold Falco Foam Fists the next day, and that outsold all the actual baseball merch by quadruple.”
“That makes sense,” Quinn nodded.
With the security guards ushering them through the lines, they’d waded through the crowd quicker than Quinn had thought. They had made it to the suite, where Mario, Peach, and Rosalina sat, already having helped themselves to beer.
“Where the heck were you guys? Coulda used some help.” Quinn demanded.
Mario shook his head, “Nah kid, you needed to figure out how to deal with the attention. Your master really enjoyed meeting the fans.”
“Bro,” Luigi protested as he and Daisy took their seats, “You should’ve seen the line. All eternally online dorks, it was terrible.”
Mario shrugged, “No Falco incidents, so as far as I’m concerned you’re sailing smooth.”
“Wait,” Quinn asked, something dawning on him, “Were you afraid I’d repeat that?”
Rosalina, Peach, and Mario exchanged unsure glances, the three immediately breaking into laughter.
“C’mon kid, we’re joking,” Mario explained, “Sit down and enjoy the game,”
Quinn sat, his attitude immediately changing for the better when Rosalina laid her head on his shoulder as she took the seat next to him.
“You did great,” Rosalina cooed, “All we have to do now is have fun.”
Quinn nodded. Maybe this would be fun.
1400
It was not fun. Why did he think it would be?
Legendary baseball players had converged on the field today. Men who had broken barriers of race, men who had redefined the sport in the 1990s and 2000s, and none of them could score a goal three innings in.
Daisy’s endless trivia had been interesting at first. A disgraced home run king and a man with a candy bar named after him had piqued Quinn’s interest at first, but that had quickly waded.
Quinn fumbled through his communicator. A pang of cold went up his spine when he realized he’d muted his text notifications when he woke up.
“Me and the lady had to wait till the door opened, but we finally got there,” came a text from Terry. He and Corrin each held something in a small container.
Quinn zoomed in on the object.
Tesla Everything Bagel Ramen read the package.
Quinn couldn’t help but chuckle, moving on to his other texts. The next one came from Green.
“Wanted to see if either Luigi and Daisy or Rosalina and Quinn wanted to go to the Motorcycle on the 11th day of this break.”
“Would love to,” Luigi had texted back, “But I booked a public workout at Bear Hugger’s gym for that day.”
“Alright,” Mario had said, “Quinn, you and Rosalina are on for that then.”
The crowd cheered and then grumbled again. A famous player from New York that had had succumbed to disease on Earth 1 had grounded a ball for an easy, final out of the third inning.
The organ played a ditty as the players switched positions. So far, this was the only thing Quinn liked about the experience. His home baseball stadium had simply played popular hits over the speakers. An organ gave the whole thing a gravitas Quinn couldn’t quite wrap his head around. When the action resumed, he went back to his communicator. Master Hart had sent him a message.
Tell the boss I said thanks for the tickets to the Ultimate Rumble. My students could use the cheering up. Plus, super stoked to meet the ARMS folks, seem like interesting dudes.
As the crowd groaned at yet another grounded out, Quinn leaned over to Mario, tapping him on the shoulder, showing him the text projected from his wrist.
The mustachioed man brightened even more.
“Tell him I said no problem,” he said.
Quinn did as commanded. As he did, the hulking disgraced home run king finally hit a ball out of the park. A co*cky young man he hadn’t seen get on base also ran his way to home.
“YO!” Daisy cheered, “2-1 CARDINALS!”
“Don’t tell me you’re gambling,” Luigi joked.
Daisy frowned.
“Tch, who do you think I am, Conker?” she asked.
The room hung silent as the Yankees came to bat after a quick out.
“Speaking of Mario, has he done anything of note?”
Mario shook his head, “Nope. Still gambling, Squirrel Kingdom informants are saying he’s septupled the treasury somehow, but where he’s getting the money I have no idea.”
“No doubt mining alternate dimensions for resources,” Peach said in a disgusted huff.
In turn, Luigi sighed, “None of which we can stop because…”
“He’s moving through the dimensions with multiple tools, none of which we can track.”
Peach frowned, “Mario, I thought he was moving through the universes with whatever that Multiversus organization is using.”
“He’s got multiple reality-altering weapons, so it would seem. But we have Sephiroth, and the hope that he might drink himself to death before this is all over/”
Quinn feigned a stretch, looking out at the ball field again. Never would he have thought that two men staring at each other waiting for a ball to be thrown could be so interesting. The thrown ball had yielded a strike for the Yankees, causing the teams to once again switch positions.
“Wait, did I miss an entire half-inning?” Quinn asked.
“Yup,” Daisy said, “All three strikeouts.”
“Baseball is a beautiful game isn’t it?” Quinn murmured, sarcasm dripping from his voice.
“Oh come now Quinn,” protested Peach, “Baseball is quite fun when we do it.”
“Yeah!” Daisy agreed, “I’ve been bugging bro-in-law to bring that back but he just won’t!”
“And like I’ve said a million times Daisy,” Mario protested back, “The Kart tournament this year has been so popular we’ve had to extend the season. The fact that we got the tennis tournament and the golf outings in is an act to of the Seven Stars.”
“Or your endurance my love,” Peach purred, pecking Mario on the cheek.
A man chomping a cigar smacked a ball, rounding the bases.
“That said,” Quinn said, “Can I get in on some racing when this is all over? Hart always talked about how much fun he had last year.”
“Course you can kiddo. The tour system means there’s almost always a race on, and we always need a Mii. Hell, we might need one after the semi-finals.”
“That is if I’m not too busy training for the semi-finals.”
“Uh, I don’t think so,” Luigi said with a grin.
“You wanna put some money on that?” asked Quinn.
“Yeah, two knuckle sandwiches,” Luigi said a smile still on his face.
The two stood up, miming cartoonish “put ‘em up,” gestures.
At that exact moment, a man turned around.
“HEY!” barked the man, “The Smashers are about to fight,”
“BLOCK THE GREEN MISSILE QUINN!” barked the woman with him.
“NO, GO LUIGI, IT’S YOUR TIME!”
The two men stood frozen in time as the cameras flashed.
“We can’t have anything, can we?” groaned Mario.
The cameras flashed after they dropped the poses.
“Can we leave?” begged Rosalina.
“Oh thank God yes,” Quinn cheered.
“Sure, go-a,” Mario ordered, “The Colonel will get angry if we’re taking away from the game.”
Quinn opened a portal to the Mansion, practically diving through it as Rosalina trailed behind.
Immediately upon touching down in the Mansion, A text from Mario appeared.
“Luigi just gave his tickets to Simon and Ritcher, so you’ll be with them tomorrow.”
Quinn’s finger immediately angled at the screen, his immediate urge to send a whiny text about why he couldn’t relax dying as soon as it appeared, remembering Master Hart would be there.
Quinn offered his hand to Rosalina as he walked. She took it.
“Honey?” asked the Mii Brawler.
“Yes, dear?”
“Can you read me a story? I need to decompress with your voice.”
“It’d be my honor champ, “
And just like that, as they walked up the grand staircase, the spring in his step was back.
