Don't read it's really cringe

The sun—or whatever passed for a sun in the Mushroom Kingdom—shone brightly over the pristine, white battlements of SMG4’s brand new castle. It was a day of relative peace, which in this world meant that something catastrophic was approximately five minutes away from happening. Inside the main hall, SMG4 was hunched over a computer monitor, screaming at a rendering error. Meggy was practicing her combat drills in the courtyard, her orange hair whipping through the air with every kick. Saiko was tuning her guitar, the screeching notes echoing through the stone corridors.

And then there was Mario.

Mario was currently trying to see how many spaghetti noodles he could stuff into his nose before he passed out. He was sitting on a plush velvet rug, crossed-eyed and humming a distorted version of his own theme song.

"Ooh, look at me! I’m a noodle monster! Wahoo!" Mario cheered, shoving another strand of pasta into his nostril.

"Mario, can you please be stupid somewhere else?" SMG4 yelled from across the room, not looking away from his screen. "I’m trying to edit a video that doesn't involve you eating your own body weight in carbs for once!"

"Mamaf**ker," Mario muttered under his breath, reaching for another plate.

He never got to touch it.

The air in the center of the room suddenly warped, twisting like a piece of wet laundry being wrung out. A swirling, neon-purple vortex tore open the fabric of reality, crackling with dark energy. The sheer force of the vacuum began to pull everything toward it—discarded pizza boxes, SMG4's expensive camera gear, and, most importantly, the Italian plumber.

"Wait, what?! My spaghetti!" Mario cried out, his hands clawing at the floorboards as he was dragged toward the abyss.

"Mario!" Meggy shouted, bursting through the doors after hearing the commotion. She threw her Splattershot toward him, hoping he’d grab the strap. "Grab on!"

SMG4 dived from his chair, grabbing Mario’s boots just as the plumber’s torso was sucked into the purple glow. "I got you! I got—oh god, you’re so heavy! How much did you eat today?!"

"Everything!" Mario wailed.

The vortex gave a violent lurch. The purple energy flared, blinding everyone in the room. With a sound like a giant popping bubble, the suction intensified ten-fold. SMG4’s grip slipped, his fingers sliding off Mario’s muddy overalls.

"NOOOOOOOO!" Mario’s scream echoed through the hall as he was swallowed whole.

The vortex snapped shut, leaving behind nothing but a lingering scent of ozone and a single, lonely meatball rolling across the floor.

***

Mario felt like he had been put through a washing machine on the 'Hell' setting. When his vision finally cleared, he wasn't in the colorful halls of the castle anymore. The air was frigid, biting through his red shirt, and the sky above was a dark, suffocating expanse of stars and shattered planetary rings.

He groaned, pushing himself up. "Ooh... my head. Mario’s brain feels like a squashed goomba."

As he stood up, he realized the ground beneath him was crunchy. He looked down and let out a small "Ooh?" of curiosity. He wasn't standing on dirt or grass. He was standing on a mountain of metal.

Thousands of white, robotic bodies were piled high in a gruesome junkyard. They had screens for faces, most of them cracked and dark, and thin, skeletal limbs. They looked like dolls that had been discarded by a very angry god.

"Hey, look! Free toys!" Mario cheered, bouncing on the pile of corpses. He picked up a severed robotic arm and started using it to scratch his back. "This place is great! It’s like a dumpster, but fancy!"

High above, perched on the rusted remains of a skyscraper, two figures watched him. They were sleek, silver-haired, and possessed large, yellow glowing eyes that flickered with a predatory light. Large, bat-like wings tipped with blades folded behind their backs.

"What... is that?" the one known as V whispered, her digital eyes widening. She tilted her head, her tongue darting out to lick a drop of oil from her cheek. "It’s organic. It looks like a giant, red bean."

"It’s weird," J replied, her arms crossed. She adjusted her pigtails, her gaze fixed on the way Mario was currently trying to eat a piece of scrap metal. "But... look at the way it moves. It has no fear. It’s either incredibly powerful or incredibly stupid."

"I like it," V giggled, a manic glint in her eyes. "It’s kind of... cute? In a pathetic, 'I want to see what's inside it' kind of way."

"We’ll watch for now," J commanded. "Let’s see what the local workers do when they find a fleshy intruder."

Mario, completely oblivious to the two murder machines stalking him, hopped off the pile of drones and began to waddle through the snow-covered ruins of the city. He didn't have a care in the world. He hummed a jaunty tune, occasionally stopping to kick a stray skull or try to lick a frozen lamppost.

"Stupid cold place," Mario grumbled. "Where's the spaghetti store? Mario’s gonna starve to death, and then I’ll be a ghost, and I’ll haunt SMG4’s toilet."

He rounded a corner and came face-to-face with someone who was very much alive. Or, as alive as a robot could be.

It was a female worker drone. She wore a purple hoodie and carried a massive, high-tech railgun that glowed with an ominous green light. Her digital eyes were narrowed in suspicion, her thumb hovering over the trigger.

"Freeze, freak!" Uzi snapped, leveling the barrel at Mario’s chest. "Are you another one of those corporate-sent—"

She stopped. Her screen flickered, a faint digital blush appearing on her cheeks as she took in the sight of the man before her. He was short, round, and wore a hat with a giant 'M' on it. He didn't look like a threat. He looked like a confused, middle-aged man who had gotten lost on his way to a buffet.

"Uh... hello?" Uzi stammered, her hostility wavering. "What... what are you? You’re not a drone. You’re all... squishy."

Mario didn't answer. He didn't look scared. In fact, he looked bored. He walked right up to her, the barrel of the railgun pressing into his stomach.

"Hey, lady," Mario said, his voice gravelly. "You got any pizza? Mario’s stomach is making the rumblies that only hands can satisfy."

Uzi blinked, her blush deepening. "I... no? We drink oil. Wait, don't just walk up to me! I have a weapon! I’m an angsty teen with abandonment issues and a god-complex!"

Mario didn't care about her issues. He reached out and poked her screen. "Why is your face a TV? Can I watch cartoons on you?"

"Hey! Stop that!" Uzi cried, but she didn't pull the trigger. There was something about his complete lack of self-preservation that was strangely... alluring.

Mario began to "tamper" with her. To anyone else, it would have looked like he was just being an idiot, but Mario's stupidity had a way of breaking the laws of physics. He grabbed her shoulders and started shaking her violently, his hands moving with a speed that shouldn't have been possible for a man of his build.

"Give! Me! The! Pepperoni!" Mario shouted.

Uzi’s internal processors began to scream. Her sensors went haywire as Mario’s grip crushed her chassis. Sparks flew from her neck. Her screen flickered with a "CRITICAL ERROR" message.

"Wait... stop... you’m... breaking..." Uzi’s voice glitched out, her digital eyes turning into a static-filled "X".

With one final, bone-crushing squeeze from the plumber, Uzi’s systems gave out entirely. Her body went limp, the railgun clattering to the snowy ground. She was dead—or at least, her hardware had been rendered completely non-functional by the sheer force of Mario’s "hugs."

Mario stopped shaking her and blinked. "Oh. She broke. Just like SMG4’s spirit."

He looked down at the limp robot girl. He didn't feel bad. Mario had seen enough resets and madness in his life to be desensitized to a little accidental manslaughter. He hummed a thoughtful note, looking at the drone's legs.

"Ooh, shiny," he muttered.

He reached down, grabbed her by the ankles, and hoisted her legs over his shoulder. He began to drag her body through the snow, leaving a long trail behind him as he sought out a place with a bit more privacy.

He eventually found a dark, secluded alleyway beneath a collapsed bridge. The shadows hid him from the prying eyes of the drones above. He dropped Uzi’s corpse onto the cold ground with a heavy *thud*.

"Okay, time to do some science!" Mario announced to the empty air.

He reached into his overalls and pulled out a comically large wrench that definitely wasn't there a second ago. With the precision of a butcher and the grace of a wrecking ball, he began to dismantle her. He wasn't interested in her head or her torso. He tossed the purple hoodie aside and began to unbolt her limbs.

He worked with a strange, focused intensity. He kept her legs and feet, setting them aside in a neat pile. There was something about the mechanical construction that fascinated his simple mind. To him, they were like high-tech LEGOs.

As he worked, a thick, black fluid began to leak from the joints—oil.

"Ooh! Forbidden chocolate milk!" Mario exclaimed.

He looked around and spotted a rusted gas canister sitting in a pile of trash. He grabbed it, blew the dust off, and held it under the dripping limb. He hummed a little tune as the canister began to fill with the dark, viscous liquid.

"Mario’s gonna be rich," he whispered to himself, his eyes gleaming in the dark. "I’ll sell this to E. Gadd and buy all the spaghetti in the world. And maybe a new hat. This one has a hole in it."

High above, V and J watched from the shadows of the bridge, their optical sensors recording every move.

"He just... he killed her with his bare hands," V whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and excitement. "And now he’s... harvesting her?"

"He’s efficient," J noted, her yellow eyes glowing brighter. "Cruel. Nonsensical. He doesn't even have wings, yet he acts like he owns the planet."

"I want him," V said flatly, her claws extending with a sharp *shink*. "I want to see if he can break me like that."

J didn't disagree. "Let him finish his... work. Then, we introduce ourselves."

Down in the darkness, Mario finished filling the canister. He stood up, wipes his oil-stained hands on his overalls, and looked at his collection of robot parts. He felt a sense of pride. He didn't know where he was, and he didn't know how to get home, but he had a bucket of oil and some robot legs.

"Wahoo!" Mario cheered, his voice echoing through the desolate, frozen city. "Mario’s having a great vacation!"

He picked up the canister and the legs, waddling further into the shadows of Copper 9, blissfully unaware that he was now the most interesting thing in a world built for murder.