THE SMASH WANNABES
1-1: Tall, Dark and Stupid part 1
It was actually pretty usual at the Smash Mansion to have strange people walking through the doors, though the strange people were often the ones that lived there already. But the newcomer was a total stranger to everyone there, and he wasn't so much walking as he was slouching. He glared at everyone from behind floppy black-and-blue bangs like he was judging them.
"Where's Dexter Timaeus?"
Falco raised an eyebrow at the demand.
"Why, whaddaya need?"
"I don't wanna talk to you. I wanna talk to him."
Yep, he was judging them.
"Fine then, drama queen, he's in his office. Go up those stairs to the third floor an' go down the hall a ways. Ya can't miss the door, it's got fourteen locks on it."
The kid with the stupid haircut turned and left before Falco had even finished his sentence.
"Jeez, what an ass."
The kid resumed his slouching along, ignoring all attempts to talk to him on his way up the stairs. He kept going, and sure enough, there was an extremely well-secured door. The teenaged newcomer stood there staring at it, hands shoved in his pockets, until, to his surprise, he was greeted by a booming voice that would have been comparable to that of Optimus Prime, had the teen ever been willing to learn what Optimus Prime sounded like.
"Hello. Come in."
With a cacophonous shifting of locks, the door opened on its own. After only a few seconds of hesitation, the kid entered. The room behind the door was seemingly a cross between an office, a museum, and a wizard's study taken straight from the likes of Harry Potter. There was a small statuette of an avian humanoid apparently meditating, and oddly enough, a wooden puppet in a bell jar labeled 'just in case'. Interestingly, there was a demonic mask on the wall with a photograph hung below, depicting a man who must've been Dexter standing beside a much smaller, red-haired fellow with a slain creature behind them that suspiciously resembled the mask.
There was sunlight streaming in through the large window on the opposite wall, and rising from his seat at his desk, lit from behind like a Byzantine icon's halo, was a tall, black-haired man wearing a white pinstripe suit and a single glove on his right hand.
"You must be Scorpio Doomraven, I got your application letter. Welcome to the Smash Mansion, Scorpio. I'm Dexter Timaeus."
The teen, Scorpio, just slouched there, staring, nodding slightly.
"Now, I usually wouldn't be so eager to accept a nomination, but, well... I happen to have had the privilege of fighting alongside your father, and I'll admit, I was really looking forward to meeting you. How is Artorius, anyway?"
"...He 's fine..."
Scorpio scowled at the floor, hands in his pockets. Dexter took notice of this, and took a few steps toward him, concerned and puzzled.
"...Is there something wrong?"
"I just thought everything'd be... less... I dunno... stupid."
There was no anger in the demiurge's response-- it was a genuine, confused question. Scorpio looked up at Dexter through his highlighted bangs, staring sullenly at his raised eyebrows.
"Yeah, like... not all cutesy stuff. Like real fighters..."
"Scorpio, none of us would live here if we weren't real fighters. You can't just judge by appearances here."
"Yyyeah... So... Where am I gonna stay?"
"Well, your new roommate's name is Pit. He's a Mercurial, and he's about your age, actually. Well, by Mercurial standards..."
Dexter handed Scorpio a piece of paper showing the layout of the Smash Mansion, with Scorpio's room circled in red. Scorpio took it and stared at it for a bit, looked up at Dexter, and then turned and slouched out.
"Well..." Dexter said to himself, "Alright then..."
As he navigated his way to his room, Scorpio alternated between staring at the floor and glowering at passersby, who seemed thoroughly unimpressed with his attitude. So unimpressed, in fact, that people were walking up and trying to strike up a conversation. One of these people, to Scorpio's disgust, was what appeared to be an angel.
"Hey, are you Scorpio?"
"What do YOU want?!"
"Whoa, jeez! I just asked you a question!"
"Yes, I'm Scorpio. What do you want."
"I just wanted to say hi! I'm your new roommate, Pit. Don't have a cow, man."
"Why are you an angel?! Why the fuck did Dexter set me up with a fucking ANGEL?!"
"HEY. I am NOT an angel. I just quoted Bart Simpson like five seconds ago, that alone should be proof! I'm a Mercurial. Real angels don't even look like us!"
"'Ey, you got a problem over here, Pit?"
The speaker was apparently male (and seemingly from Brooklyn) by the sound of his voice, and it was a good thing, too, because he appeared to be an amorphous, vaguely humanoid cloud of living shadow with an old brown trench coat on it. Turning his head to get a better look, Scorpio noticed that the being seemed to be two-dimensional no matter what angle he was viewed from.
"Yeah! He's right here, and he's kind of a douche!"
"Ohhhhh! Damn! The hell'd you do?"
"I just wanted him to go away!"
"Oh, jeez, you are kind of a douche, ain'tcha?"
Scorpio just scowled.
"So who are you?"
"Name's Guy. No, seriously, that's my name. GW Erebos. You can call me GW, you can call me Mr. Game n' Watch, you can call me the Baconator... I like that one. I think Wendy's might have somethin' to say about it, but 'ey, what the hell. So you're Scorpio, right?"
"Your old man's one helluva guy, I'll tell ya what. I been at 'is house before. Guess it's your house, too... Y'know, I got to hold you hen you were a li'l baby. Hey, you mind scootchin' over a li'l bit? I gotta move my room."
The shadowy being had moved past him and spread a mass of what seemed to be liquid darkness onto the wall. It quickly coalesced into the shape of a black door, and GW peeked inside and turned back to Scorpio, seemingly satisfied.
"...Why are YOU here?" Asked Scorpio sullenly.
"I been a lotta places, done a lotta things. And some 'a those things involved savin' worlds. I been in a lotta worlds. I kinda been a hobo for a long time..."
"So... What are you?"
"Midianite. Born in Midian, too. You're gonna hafta talk to Dr. Mario if you want any biology lessons, I ain't too good with how I work n' all that. Or Dexter, he knows about all that metaphysical essence-y junk. I got electromagnetism an' some shadowy stuff in me, that's about all I know."
"Huh. Dexter still let you in?"
"Hell yeah he let me in, the man's what saints could only wish they could be! Why, you think he's racist against black people?"
GW laughed, grinning at Scorpio and waiting for him to at least acknowledge that he got the joke. Scorpio just continued sulking.
"He seems like he'd hate you. He's all light and order and shit."
"What? No way, man. You ever seen him with his brother? Dexter doesn't give one single solitary shit about all that good order-bad chaos crap."
"Dexter has a brother?"
GW looked extremely surprised for a few seconds, but then started laughing and grinning.
"What, what's so funny?"
"Ohhhhh boy, you haven't met Sinister yet...! Oh, this oughta be good."
"His brother's name is Sinister?"
"Yup! Oh, you're gonna be in fer a treat, ain'tcha?"
The Midianite kept laughing, shaking his head as he did. Scorpio was surprised. He'd been expecting no one to understand his darkness, but with a name like Sinister Timaeus...
"Uh-oh, kid, here he comes, look out!"
A glowing portal tore open in the ceiling, and a man flew through and landed unceremoniously on the floor, likely the source of the Tarzan yelling. He was wearing a black pinstripe suit, the reverse color scheme of Dexter's, and the shirt visible under his jacket was an eye-searing canary yellow. His hair was a spectacular explosion of frizzy white insanity, and he was grinning up at Scorpio from the floor, bright violet eyes nearly bugging out of his head, looking for all the world like an escapee from a Saturday morning cartoon.
"Hi!", chirped the stranger, still on the floor, "Me Tarzan! You Jane?"
"Wha... I'm not a girl!" Scorpio immediately snapped.
"Oh. Um... Hi!"
The extremely weird man clambered to his feet, and Scorpio noticed he was wearing sneakers and two different socks, one tie-dyed and one bacon-and-eggs-print. He also only wore one left glove.
"I'm Sinister! And this is Horny the Satan Goat, I just realized I had him in my pocket!"
He produced an adorably parodic goat hand puppet from his pocket and wiggled it around.
"Hey, random emo dude! I'm Horny the Satan Goat! ROCK N ROLLLLLL!"
Scorpio just stood there, mouth agape, staring at this crazy lunatic and still trying to figure out what the hell was going on. Sinister just grinned at him expectantly.
"Dude, this is the part where you either laugh or flip out and tell me I'm going to
Hell. Aaaaaany time now..."
"Wait... YOU'RE Sinister Timaeus?!"
"Yeeeeeeah," he said, "I said that like ten seconds ago. HEY! You wanna go downtown and do stuff?"
"No! I don't hang out with... Umm... Nerds?"
"Well, you're in the wrong mansion, then, buddy!"
"I'm not your 'buddy.'"
"Aww, why not?"
"Because I don't hang out with crazy dorks like you, that's why."
"Wow. Your life must suck. No wonder you look like such an emo!"
"Yeah, whatever. I'm going to my room."
At that, he stormed off.
"Hey, you need to check in with the dorm organizer!"
"I don't care!"
"Okay then, have fun regretting that statement!"
"SHUT UP ALREADY!"