Just when you all thought, my favourite video game can no longer be touched! It's safe! It's invincible!
You thought wrong.
Seven years later (but five years after the fanfic, because I'm slow), after everyone thought all was said and done, a phone rang in every house in . . . wherever the hell these people live.
Princess Peach Falcon rolled over in the bed and picked up the ringing phone with groggy dismay. Goddamn it, she thought, it's 4 AM! Who calls at this hour?
"Who is it, honey?" mumbled Captain Falcon from the bed beside her, rolling over and putting an arm around his wife's midsection, which was currently rather large as she was eight months pregnant.
"Hello?" snapped Peach into the phone. "You know you just ruined the last good bit of sleep I'm going to get for maybe the next three years of my life because this child is going to be born in about twenty-three days five hours and fifty-two minutes and you're going to owe me a very large chicken leg for this asswipe!"
"Nicely handled," grunted Captain Falcon, after rolling back over and falling into a half-sleep.
"Erm, h-hello. This is the CEO of HAL Laboratories," came a disgruntled male voice on the other line. Peach nearly dropped the phone and spent the next ten seconds or so sputtering out a few stuttered and profuse apologies. "Ah q-quite all right, madam. You and your husband are invited back to the HAL House for a luxurious two-week stay while we film Super Smash Bros. Brawl. You both would, of course, be paid in full and given substantially bigger checques due to the fact you're expecting a child. What do you say?"
"How are you going to cover up the fact that I look like a blimp?" said Peach flatly.
"You look beautiful," grunted Captain Falcon with a drowsy snort.
"Green screening. On your dress," replied the CEO.
"Done, then," Peach replied cheerfully. "I've been out of a serious job since Super Princess Peach anyhow. I could use some extra cash."
"And your husband?"
"Oh, he goes where I go."
Moments later, after some more polite farewells and exchanging of other details, Peach hung up the phone and rolled back so that she was staring up at the ceiling.
"Did you get my chocolate milk?" grunted Captain Falcon.
" . . . What?"
" . . . Sorry. Dreaming."
"We have work to do," said Peach, patting Captain Falcon on the thigh. "We're invited back to Super Smash Bros., and with a bonus paychecque due to our coming addition. Two weeks this time."
"When do we start?"