Mario's evil past

The main hall of the Showgrounds castle was suffocatingly quiet. It was one of those rare, humid afternoons where the chaos of the Mushroom Kingdom seemed to have wilted under the sun. SMG4 was slumped over the arm of the velvet sofa, staring blankly at the ceiling. Meggy was spinning a Splat-o-matic idly on her finger, her eyes glazed with boredom, while Tari sat cross-legged on the floor, trying to find a signal on her arm that wasn’t there.

"I never thought I’d say this," Saiko groaned, leaning her giant hammer against the wall with a heavy thud, "but I actually miss the sound of things exploding. Where is that fat idiot, anyway?"

"Mario said he had 'top secret spaghetti business' to attend to," SMG4 replied, not moving an inch. "Which usually means he’s stuck in a vent somewhere or trying to marry a meatball."

Luigi, who had been rummaging through a pile of cardboard boxes left over from the castle’s recent renovations, suddenly perked up. He pulled out a dusty, black plastic rectangle. "Hey, guys? I found something."

Bob leaned over the back of the couch, his hood twitching. "Is it gold? Please tell me it’s a box of untaxed BitCoin."

"No, it’s a VHS tape," Luigi said, wiping a layer of grime off the label. He squinted at the messy, scrawled handwriting on the front. "There’s a note attached. It says... 'Do not play. Serious business. Mario’s property. Stay away or I eat your liver.'"

Meggy sat up, her interest finally piqued. "Mario wrote a warning? That’s a first. Usually, he just puts a 'Keep Out' sign on his fridge that’s spelled with backwards letters."

"If Mario doesn't want us to see it, it's either incredibly stupid or incredibly incriminating," SMG4 said, finally sitting upright. He looked at the VCR sitting beneath the wide-screen TV—a relic they kept around for 'retro nights.' "Luigi, pop it in."

"I don't know, guys," Luigi stammered, his knees beginning to knock together. "Mario looked really serious when he wrote this. The 'liver' part had a little drawing of a skull next to it."

"Put it in, Luigi!" Saiko commanded, her eyes flashing dangerously. "Anything is better than staring at the wall for another three hours."

With a shaky sigh, Luigi slid the tape into the player. The machine whirred and groaned, a mechanical protest against the ancient technology, before the TV screen flickered to life with a burst of static.

The image stabilized to show the interior of Mario’s house. It was grainy, filmed from a stationary camera on a tripod. In the center of the living room stood Mario. He wasn't dancing, he wasn't screaming, and he wasn't eating. He was standing perfectly still, staring at a large, ornate painting hanging on his wall.

"Wait, since when does Mario have art?" Tari asked, leaning forward.

The painting was strange. It depicted a figure known to the deep corners of the internet as Telamon, or Shedletsky—a legendary architect of a digital world long forgotten. The figure in the painting had a smug, knowing grin, wearing a feathered hat that seemed to mock the viewer.

On the screen, Mario began to sweat. Not the cartoonish, oversized droplets, but a genuine, nervous perspiration. He paced back and forth in front of the painting, wringing his gloved hands.

"He looks... scared?" Meggy whispered, her brow furrowed.

Suddenly, Mario stopped. He looked at the camera, then back at the painting. With a heavy sigh that sounded far too weary for the Mario they knew, he reached up and slowly took off his iconic red cap.

The entire room gasped in unison.

"What the heck are those?" SMG4 shouted, pointing at the screen.

Protruding from the sides of Mario’s head, right along the hairline near his temples, were two small, white, feathered wings. They weren't fake; they twitched instinctively as the air hit them, fluttering like the wings of a startled bird. Mario reached up and scratched the base of one, his expression uncharacteristically somber. He looked at his reflection in the glass of the painting, his face saying a thousand words, most of them being a confused and silent "What?"

"Mario has head-wings?" Bob yelled, throwing his hands up. "Why didn't he tell us? We could have started a freak show and made millions! We could have sold his feathers as organic pillows!"

"Shut up, Bob!" Meggy snapped, her eyes glued to the screen. "Look at his face. He looks like he’s remembering something he doesn't want to."

On the tape, Mario walked over to a closet and pulled out a long, heavy cloak. It was a deep, weathered fabric, looking like something out of a dark fantasy novel. He draped it over his shoulders, hiding the wings and his bright red shirt. As he fastened the clasp at his throat, his posture changed. The bumbling, spaghetti-loving plumber vanished, replaced by someone who looked burdened, uncomfortable, and strangely noble.

The video suddenly froze. A frame of Mario, half-shrouded in shadow, looking directly into the lens with an expression of pure, unadulterated misery.

The TV screen stayed stuck on that image. The whirring of the VCR grew louder, a strained mechanical whine that filled the silent room.

"Okay," SMG4 said, his voice cracking. "That was... not what I expected."

"The wings," Luigi whispered, his face pale. "I remember when we were kids. He always wore that hat. Even in the bathtub. I thought he was just bald and embarrassed!"

"Those aren't just wings," Tari said, her cybernetic eye scanning the frozen image. "Look at the texture. They match the aesthetic of that painting. That 'Telamon' guy. There’s a digital signature in the background of the video that shouldn't be there. It’s like... Mario’s past is tied to a different version of reality."

"Wait, look at the cloak," Meggy pointed out. "Doesn't that look familiar? It looks like the robes the ancient guardians used to wear in the old stories."

Before anyone could speculate further, the heavy front doors of the castle swung open with a violent bang.

"MAAAAARIO IS HOME! AND HE BROUGHT—"

Mario froze in the doorway. He was carrying a massive, grease-stained box of pizza, but his eyes immediately locked onto the television screen. His jaw dropped, the pizza box slipping from his hands and hitting the floor with a dull thud.

The silence that followed was deafening. Mario looked at the screen, then at his friends, then back at the screen where his own winged head was displayed in high-definition graininess.

"You..." Mario’s voice was low, devoid of its usual high-pitched energy. "You watched the 'Do Not Play' tape."

"Mario, what is this?" SMG4 asked, stepping toward him. "Since when do you have wings? And who is that guy in the painting?"

Mario didn't answer immediately. He reached up, clutching the brim of his hat tightly, pulling it down so far it almost covered his eyes. "It’s nothing. It’s just a prank! Mario is a master of special effects! See? It’s all... uh... spaghetti magic!"

"Don't lie to us, Red," Saiko said, grabbing her hammer. "We saw the wings twitch. Those are part of you. And you looked miserable in that cloak. What’s going on?"

Mario backed away, his heels hitting the stone threshold of the castle. "You weren't supposed to see that. That’s the 'Before Time.' Before the memes, before the stupid... before I was the Mario you know."

"The 'Before Time'?" Meggy repeated, stepping forward. "Mario, we’re your friends. You can tell us anything. If you’re in trouble, or if someone is hunting you because of those... wing-things..."

Mario let out a bitter, hollow laugh. "Hunting me? No, Meggy. They aren't hunting me. They’re waiting for me to come back. That painting... Shedletsky... he’s the one who gave me the wings. He’s the one who told me I had to be a hero in a world that didn't have any spaghetti."

He looked at them, and for a brief second, the "stupid" Mario was gone. In his eyes was the gaze of a man who had seen the birth and death of servers, a man who had flown through digital skies long before he ever jumped on a Goomba.

"I gave it all up," Mario whispered. "I chose to be stupid. Being stupid is easy. Being stupid means I don't have to remember the war for the internet. I don't have to remember the wings."

"Mario..." Tari reached out, her hand trembling.

Suddenly, the TV screen behind them hissed. The frozen image of Mario in the cloak began to distort. The face of the man in the painting, Telamon, began to bleed through the static, his grin widening until it took up the entire screen.

"Oh no," Mario gasped, his face draining of color. "The signal. The tape triggered the beacon!"

"What beacon?" SMG4 yelled, looking back at the flickering TV.

"The 'I’m Still Alive' beacon!" Mario shrieked, his usual persona returning in a flash of panic. "He found me! The man with the chicken hat found me!"

Without warning, the TV exploded in a shower of sparks and blue light. A digital wind began to howl through the castle, pulling at the curtains and knocking over the furniture. In the center of the room, a swirling vortex of blocks and pixels began to form—a gateway to a world of ancient code.

"Close the door! Close the door!" Luigi screamed, hiding behind the couch.

"I can't!" Mario yelled, grabbing a nearby lamp and throwing it at the vortex. It vanished instantly. "The wings! They’re like antennas! I have to hide!"

Mario turned to run, but the wind was too strong. His hat was ripped from his head, soaring into the vortex. The crew watched in stunned silence as the two white wings on Mario’s head unfurled fully. They weren't small anymore; they expanded, glowing with a soft, heavenly light that contrasted sharply with Mario’s round, red-clad form.

"Whoa," Bob said, shielded by his rags. "He actually looks kind of majestic. I hate it."

"Mario, hold on!" Meggy lunged for him, grabbing his hand just as his feet left the ground.

"Let go, Meggy!" Mario cried, his wings flapping frantically as he struggled against the pull of the digital void. "If you get pulled in, you’ll have to play 'Natural Disaster Survival' for eternity! It’s too boring for you!"

"We aren't letting you go!" SMG4 shouted, grabbing Meggy’s waist. Saiko grabbed SMG4, and Tari grabbed Saiko, forming a human chain.

The vortex roared, a sound like a thousand dial-up modems screaming at once. From the center of the light, a voice boomed—deep, resonant, and filled with a strange, playful malice.

"The Architect demands his favorite creation return. The wings must fly again."

"No!" Mario roared. For the first time in his life, he didn't sound like a bumbling idiot. He sounded like a warrior. "I like it here! I like the spaghetti! I like being the dumbest person in the room! Go away, you blocky jerk!"

With a surge of strength, Mario’s wings gave a powerful, singular flap. A shockwave of pure energy blasted outward, slamming the crew back against the walls and shattering the remaining glass in the room.

The vortex collapsed in on itself, shrinking into a tiny point of light before vanishing with a soft 'pop.'

Silence returned to the castle. The only sound was the heavy breathing of the crew and the distant sound of a bird chirping outside.

Mario fell to the floor, landing on his stomach with a pathetic "Oof." His wings, now small and ruffled again, twitched once before folding tightly against his head. He scrambled to find his hat, shoving it back on and pulling it down to his chin.

The crew slowly stood up, dusting themselves off. They looked at Mario, who refused to meet their eyes.

"So..." SMG4 said, breaking the tension. "You’re an ancient digital being created by a god-like architect of an old-school gaming platform?"

Mario looked up, a single tear rolling down his nose. "Can we just go get pizza? Mario will pay. With SMG4’s credit card."

Meggy walked over and sat down on the floor next to him. She didn't ask about the wings. She didn't ask about the cloak or the painting. She just leaned her head on his shoulder.

"We can talk about it whenever you’re ready, Red," she said softly.

Mario sniffled, his hand reaching up to adjust his hat. "The wings... they make me itchy."

"I can imagine," Tari said, smiling gently. "But for what it’s worth? They’re pretty cool."

"Yeah, yeah," Bob chimed in, already raiding the fallen pizza box. "Now tell me more about this 'Architect.' Does he have money? Can we sue him for emotional distress?"

Mario let out a small, genuine laugh. The tension in the room evaporated, replaced by the familiar, chaotic warmth of the crew. The mystery of the tape remained, a heavy shadow in the back of their minds, but for now, the plumber was just their friend again.

"Okay," Mario said, standing up and dusting off his overalls. "But if any of you tell Bowser I have wings, I’m putting pineapple on everyone’s pizza for a month."

"Deal," they all said in unison.

As they headed out toward the kitchen, Luigi glanced back at the shattered television. Among the debris, a single, white feather lay on the carpet. It glowed with a faint, flickering light, like a dying star or a corrupted file, before slowly fading into nothingness.

Mario’s past wasn't gone. It was just waiting for the next time he took off his hat. And as they walked away, Mario made sure to pull his cap just a little bit tighter.