Jeshi: My first Super Smash Bros. Fic…wow…sorry people, I'm in a bad mood…if you read the 'moose' as I call it in my Zelda story "The Very End", you'll see why…either that or e-mail me if you really care…it's just a small problem in r/l…so it might not be quite intriguing to the anxious minds of readers such as yourselves. BUT…this is the perfect time for me to write…my words come out more…well, let's just say that I don't even have to use a thesaurus, I have my words planned out…it's all a matter of finding them at the appropriate time they are needed.

Popo: *walks in and looks around* O_O?? Nana? Where the hell are we?

Nana: *follows in behind Popo…as usual* O_O?? I don't know, Popo…

Jeshi: If you two are just that dense to notice, you two are my hand-chosen 'mooses'.

Popo and Nana: O_O?! 'MOOSES'?!

Jeshi: The original given name to them were 'muses', but I had happened to like the name 'mooses' instead. -.-…

Popo and Nana: Ooooohhh…

Popo: So…what do we do? O_o?

Jeshi: You do the disclaiming…tell them that I don't own anything, so I may start with my story, which I have oh-so-much inspiration to write about…

Nana: Okay,..um…this lady, who we still have to learn her name..does not own Super Smash Bros. OR Super Smash Bros. Melee…

Jeshi: My name is Jeshi…and I own both games, but I do not own the characters or anything from them…

Popo: Yeah, what she said! ^_^

So many thoughts ran through Marth's head as he fastened the little clasp that held up his cape. He was not confident nor nervous about the heated battle that was to begin in only seconds it seemed like. In fact, he had no emotions on the subject. He stared sternly at the floor of the room he was standing in. The room that he was sent to before the match began, the opponent on the far other side of the stage in a copy of the very same room.

It was quite a small room, all nothing but white walls and lights, a chair sitting off to the side and mirror, and anything else the battler decided to store in there. But to Marth, it was just a cell, with a clock hanging over the door…a cell where you wait until you are called out and into what starts out as a normal fight…but it soon turns to a life or death match.

He watched the clock, and the hands on the clock move. The small, pointy, dark hands…clicking with every move they made, counting down each second to when the match was to begin. The time when Marth would have to come out and onto the arena. It was like watching the clock count down to his death. He stared even more emotionless at the circular electronic figure as it ticked away the minutes of what could be his last few minutes ever spent in this one undersized room.

The blue-haired prince looked down at his hands. He wasn't shaking, and his nerves were cool. He definitely wasn't scared, he was calm. No matter what the outcome, he shall remain composed. He fought with honour, he'd die with honour. That's all there was to it. Nothing was to be felt in the times of battle, at least to him. No anger, no sadness, love, jealousy or guilt, no matter what. He was to keep a straight face, and his feelings locked away in the very deep pits of his heart, trapped behind what could be a firewall to prevent any emotion from leaking out. This was not a time to be sympathetic…he was to fight. Fight…fight…fight…

He suddenly sighed. He closed his eyes, blinking out any feeling of despair or pity, then re-opened them. What the spectators didn't know…he shook his head, staring down at his feet. You never know…this could very well be the last time that the young prince looked at his own boots on his, what he so said they were, big feet.

Pity…that was directed to the spectators. They may be a very lively and eager audience indeed, but they didn't know really what they were watching. They…were just an audience…nothing more, except fangirls…possibly fanboys of Princess Zelda or Princess Peach…possibly Samus Aran. But what they didn't understand…

This wasn't just a game. That's what the audience obviously thought. It was just a game that they would watch and cheer for their favourite, and boo out the other until their throats were sore. And why must they do this harsh inhumane and immature act? Who knew…to them…it was a game…entertainment…Saturday matinee! This certainly was no matinee…this was real…this wasn't about the fact that Princess Zelda would be watching anxiously for his opponent tonight, Link, praying that he came out safe. Nor was it about the 'fans' or bragging rights. This was clearly a test of skill and survival. And only the one with the skill, not strength would come out in the end on top, even if the opponent is dead. No such event has happened yet, but some day, the tables could turn on an unfortunate person in the middle of a classic crowd favourite, melee.

Then he heard it. The silent knock at the door. He didn't need them to tell him, for he already knew. They were waiting for him. It was time. With one last glance at the room, he slowly turned the dirty, gold coloured doorknob and opened the door, leaving it open on his way up the dark stairs to the arena.

His heart still in a regular beat, he stepped to the rhythm of it. For some reason, he seemed to be able to make a sweet song out of it in his head…all composed in a harp and flute duet with no lyrics. He had no other thoughts. This was it, or it wasn't. That was all. He didn't even need to think about that, he could just repeat it to himself while listening to the harmonized piece he had created with something as simple as the beat of his heart, though he no doubt was the only one who could hear the actual music that played over in his head.

At long last, he made it to the arena. The Hyrule Temple. He looked throughout the ancient stone monarchy in the ruins-state it was in. It was such a big area, but it didn't keep him from seeing his opponent on the far side by a few grey, stone pillars.

Link stared at him, Marth could see it. He had a still look on his face, like he was expecting something from the prince. Marth did nothing but stared back, awaiting for the confirmation of the match beginning. Link didn't look nervous to him at all, but he seemed to have a lot on his mind. What all of it was, he didn't know.

He already heard the sound of the crowd cheering and roaring with excitement. They were about to watch Link and Marth fight each other, nearly or actually killing each other, and all they could do was cheer and root them on like the mindless, carefree people that they were. Maybe even reckless too. Marth, either way knew that he had to do this…there was no backing out, even after the combat was over. What they didn't understand that Melee was really a harsh, cruel thing.

The signal went, and the two of them unsheathed their swords and began to make their own ways to each other. While Link decided to take an underpass and climb up behind Marth when he least suspected it, Marth decided the head-on approach was the best. The moment he saw Link go down, he knew, and instead of following him in the pointless fashion, waited for him to arrive around the area where he knew, that Link would eventually climb through. Link finally rose from the passage, and Marth swung at him. Link, now realising that his method was no use, jumped back and swung with his own sword, deflecting the attack from Marth.

Link jumped to his feet suddenly and the two of them started in their own intense and deadly sword fight. The audience's cheers raged on as the two of their swords collided over and over again, each rebounding off the other with a loud 'CLANG!'. Marth kept his eyes open, and struggled to keep them from blinking. If he missed even once, it could all be over for him. He saw that Link was having his own troubles to keep from closing his eyes, even for the split second it would take for them to blink. He saw Link narrow his eyes, obviously hoping that that would help him some. Marth decided this was the perfect time to start up another method of technique.

He gathered up as much strength as he could and thrust his sword back into Link's, bouncing it off even further than usual. It spared just enough time for him to slip behind Link without him noticing. But even that was a little dangerous for Marth, for Link swung around as quick as he could while Marth took another swing at Link. He backed away in time to dodge Link, but he himself was able to get a minor cut on Link's shoulder. He could see the ripped fabric and the fresh blood starting to leak through.

The two yet again, clashed swords with immense force from each. Now the people were screaming and hollering even more, cheers belting out 'Marth!' and 'Link!' at the same time. And all the while, Marth knew, 'boos' were everywhere. But he didn't have time to worry about that…he had to finish this! Now that it had started, he couldn't let his guard down, let alone his concentration.

He decided to take a step back, in hopes of catching a breather with some extra space in between them, but then…he slipped on quite a small rock that was just behind him, sending him falling flat on his back. Link saw this as his chance, his one opportunity to finish off Marth in a…well, fatality, but it was still ending the match. Link, before Marth could get up with his sword, came up and brought it down in a stabbing position, heading straight for Marth's chest. Marth rolled out of the way as quick as he could, just as Link brought down the sword, just catching a bit of his arm. He didn't yell out in pain, nor look at his wound, though by the pain that peered out from it, he could tell it was pretty bad. He didn't care, as long as he was able to pick up his sword.

He jumped at Link, but Link rolled out of the way himself and took another quick swing at Marth, just missing him again. Marth staggered from side to side while Link meaninglessly swung at Marth, hoping to get him again. Marth was able to finally make a jump at Link, but before he could hit him..

He was hit in the side of his ribs with Link's sword. The pain was deeply excruciating, and ran all down the side of his body, even through his arms to the very tips of his fingers and toes, all of which felt numb for 3 seconds at least. At the same time, Link had brought up his arm and flipped Marth off of him, Marth landing at the side of the small cliff on his face.

Marth fluttered dirt out of his eye lashes as he struggled painfully to get up. He lifted himself up, despite the throbbing pain that carried on throughout his body. He tried to get to his feet before Link got to him, but he fell backwards and into the rocky underpass of the stage. The spectators erupted with cheers and curses.

He rolled down through the dirt, rocks and little patches of dampened grass and flat on his face on the concrete base located underneath the passage. Now his whole face hurt. He lifted himself up, and saw underneath his body, the ground was now painted with blood. He wiped his face, and looked into the palm of his hand to see he must have been bleeding from his nose or something too, for his hand now had a little puddle of blood in the centre. He heard a soft 'ptt' like sound behind him, and knew that Link had followed him. He didn't force himself up, but let himself fall to the ground in an unconscious-like state…

Link was at first in a hurry to get to Marth, but seeing Marth fall, suddenly changed his plans. He had weakened him…he slowly walked over to Marth to see if that was it for him, for the match to end here. If not, then fatality it was.

Marth breathed in heavily..still not a feeling or care in his mind. He could hear Link coming. He knew it…this was it…

Marth suddenly flung his legs out and tripped Link, his sword falling out of his hand. Marth very quickly jumped up, all the while swinging his sword to collide with Link's, sending Link's sword over the edge of the arena. That was it. Link had no other weapons besides his bow & arrow and bombs…he saw the moment that Link fell onto his back, and painfully forced himself up, blood dripping everywhere on his armour. Before Link could roll away out of Marth's reach, Marth had his sword pointing directly at Link's throat, the audience screaming.

Link stared at him with wide eyes, as if expecting Marth to finish him off in a fatality. But Marth didn't…instead, he poked at Link's skin on his throat threateningly, clearly showing that he had won and Link had nowhere to go. The signal went that the match was over, the crowd booed and cheered at the same time while Marth let Link rise to his feet and the two of them left in separate directions.

Marth could hear the voices carry on through the building he walked through back to the very same room he started in, limping this time, bloody and painful as he went. He didn't die, nor did he kill anyone, he was glad. But the people now were going to go home to their families and friends and talk for hours about this match, while Marth was treated for his wounds for hours, possibly days before he could fight again.

It was exactly what the people didn't understand…Melee was cruel…it wasn't a sport…it wasn't 'just a game'…it was a very advanced test of survival, and only your skill and logical knowledge and strategy could get you through it, with a little strength…but it was very harsh indeed.

Nana: O_O…that was long…

Popo: O_O…Marth almost died…

Jeshi: I don't want to hear crap like, "There is no 'fatality' in Super Smash Bros. OR Super Smash Bros. Melee!!" because I just added that in there to make it more interesting, especially if you people have watched Mortal Kombat…-_-;

Popo and Nana: Which she does not own! ^_^

Jeshi: Exactly. *sigh* I'm quite proud of myself on this fic. Even though it WAS only a one-shot…I don't know HOW I could make it a series…-_-; Anyway…review, I hope y'all enjoyed!…and I hope I'm in a happier mood soon, even though I feel a little better right now…^_^ I can smile now!