AN: Um… hi. Haha…

For future reference: this chapter - June 4, 2017. Last chapter - Feb 24, 2015.

Sure has been a while.

XXX

"So, my man," Captain Falcon began, finally unfreezing from the position he had been immobilized in for nearly two and a half years. He propped himself up with one elbow on the counter and pretended to examine his fingernails, except he was wearing gloves. "What brings you here to this humble fast food establishment?"

Ike was staring wordlessly past him at the pictures of chicken on the menu. A puddle of drool was forming at his feet.

"Oh, don't tell me! Surely it was to FALCON REVEL in my incredible awesomeness, hmm?" Captain Falcon waggled his eyebrows, except he was wearing his helmet.

"Hungry," Ike droned.

"Oh, yes, I know. It's hard to resist," the racer continued as if he hadn't heard Ike at all. He flexed his bicep proudly. The sleeve of his Popeyes uniform seemed ready to burst.

Suddenly, Ness walked in through the door. "Hey, Cap. Hey—" he noticed Ike, along with the explosion marks littering the surrounding area, and stiffened. "Hey, Ike." Ike, of course, was too engrossed in the chicken pictures to pay him any attention.

"FALCON WELCOME to Popeyes, kiddo! How may I help you? You can order first while our friend Ike here is still deciding."

Ness eyed Ike nervously as he walked to the counter. "Right, friend… Well, anyway. It's been a long day on the job, and I'm not really in the mood for small talk. Just give me a Coke and three orders of the sixteen-piece… you know what. I don't feel safe mentioning that word around him. And please give it to me by the back door. Out of sight of that monster." He jerked his thumb at Ike.

Captain Falcon was oblivious as always. "Of course! You mean the sixteen-piece chicken?"

It was like he had set off a bomb, if bombs were blue-haired, chicken-crazed mercenaries.

"Chicken… Chicken… CHICKEN?!" Ike screamed. Snapping out of his trance, he pounced on Ness, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him. Poor Ness passed out from the force. "DO YOU HAVE CHICKEN?"

"Ah, so it was chicken!" Captain Falcon said with a nod. "Why didn't you just FALCON SAY so? I would suggest our specialty BONAFIDE® chicken. Marinated, then hand-battered and made fresh to order! Would you prefer it spicy or mild?"

Ike flung Ness aside like a rag doll (he created a Ness-shaped hole in the wall right next to the Shulk-shaped one from earlier). "CHICKEN IS MINE!" he roared.

"I'm afraid you'll have to be a bit more specific than that!" Captain Falcon laughed as if this was the most hilarious joke in the world. Meanwhile, Ike ripped the cash register off the counter and smashed it on the floor.

"CHICKEN!" he screamed for about the billionth time.

Shulk chose that moment to return, this time adequately clothed. He took in Ike's bristling stance, the smashed register, and the Ness-shaped hole in the wall. Then one by one, he was able to put the pieces together.

"Oh my goodness, Ness was here! Be right back!" he exclaimed. And out Shulk went through the Ness-shaped hole in the wall.

One groggy, half-conscious signature from Ness later, Shulk was back in the Popeyes. "So, Mr. Falcon, can I put in those six dozen jumbo orders now?"

"Why, certainly! For here or to go? That'll be..." Captain Falcon moved to punch in the order, but then realized that the register was lying in pieces at Ike's feet. "Er, never mind. That'll have to get fixed… Well, you can't pay me like this. But I guess I can make an exception for my FALCON FRIENDS! So consider this order on me! I'm rich anyway, I don't know why I work here."

He went to the back of the store, where he began frying up chicken. Shulk stared blankly ahead, tuning into an episode of Spongebob from the future. Ike was gnawing on a window that had a picture of chicken posted on the other side. By the time the whole order was finished, Ike had chewed completely through the glass and was beginning to eat the poster.

"Six dozen jumbo orders of chicken," Captain Falcon said, placing six dozen ginormous greasy bags on the counter. Ike bounded over.

"Thank you!" he said, surprisingly civil. Then all manners flew out the chewed-up window as he savagely gobbled down every last bag on the spot and gave such an enormous belch that it blew Captain Falcon's helmet off. Shulk gasped. Ike gasped. Captain Falcon gasped. Ness gasped (for air; Ike had crushed one of his lungs).

Underneath, Captain Falcon's true face… was still hidden by the second helmet he wore under his regular helmet.

But for once, the racer's smile was gone. When he spoke, his voice was scathing. "I see now. This was all a ploy, wasn't it? You wanted to know what I look like beneath this helmet." He jabbed a finger at Shulk. "I knew I couldn't trust you fanboy types. Lucky for me, and unlucky for you, I always wear backups. Let me make something clear to you, kid. No one sees the Falcon Face. EVER." There was an awkward, tense silence. Then his cheerful demeanor returned.

"Well, you kids FALCON SCRAM back to the mansion. Have a nice day!"

Shulk and Ike hastily shuffled out of the Popeyes as Captain Falcon went to retrieve his fallen helmet.

XXX

WHY! CAN'T! I! DESTROY! YOU!

Mewtwo's furious mental screams pierced the air like knives, each of them punctuated by a vicious blast of energy. None of the blasts met their mark, however, as they were blocked by an invisible barrier.

Please, mercy… Lucario begged pathetically from behind the barrier. His tail was firmly tucked between his legs, and he hugged it to himself as if it could offer some meager comfort. It didn't.

Mewtwo's rage was only incensed. Its voice dropped to a deadly tone. I gave you until spring to prove yourself. That was my word. And now, not one, but THREE springs have gone by, and you are as much of a sniveling whelp now as you were then!

B-but please! For those three springs, there has not been a single update to this story until now! How could I have proven myself without a chapter to do it in? Lucario pleaded desperately. Meanwhile, the author was in the corner, whistling nonchalantly and trying to act like she wasn't hearing this conversation. Except she was the one who created it. Gee, author, you suck.

I don't know! And I don't care! I have gotten as little action as you over this time. Perhaps I merely need some way to vent! And you just happen to be a convenient punching bag!

AAHH! Lucario screamed as he raised his palms in a vain attempt to shield himself from Mewtwo's renewed attacks.

"WHY PARDON ME SIRS," a really hot guy suddenly said, putting his ginormous blade in the line of fire and causing a sphere of psychic energy to deflect off it back into Mewtwo's face. The Pokemon quickly ducked to avoid it, and it went sailing through the wall behind him. An explosion rang out a few walls away. Several Pikmin death screams followed it.

Mewtwo whirled on the really hot guy, seething. Then it caught a glimpse of the really hot guy's face, and its normally stoic jaw dropped in disbelief. C…Cloud Strife?!

"Why, yes!" the famous spiky blond, ridiculously-sized-sword-wielding, edgy-black-outfitted really hot guy agreed, grinning gleefully.

Mewtwo actually had to rub its eyes to believe what it was seeing. You… you seem different.

Cloud, bouncing brightly, bantered, "Why, I think you're right. I do feel a bit different than usual. Perhaps peppier. As if all my edges have been smoothed out!" He held his arms out in a magnificent 120 FPS motion. They were remarkably smooth.

Wow, they are remarkably smooth, Mewtwo admitted. But… for what reason are you here? You are not slated to appear until November's Direct. Technically, in this fanfiction you are not even a Smash character yet!

"Hmm? Oh, yes, I'm aware. I'm just here to save Lucario's sorry behind. I know you idolize me, so I say: stop trying to kill him! You see, the author decided to put me in as an intervention since she was too lazy to come up with an actual solution to your petty conflict. In fact, she might have even had one at one point, but she forgot it! I know, isn't it utter bull? And with how long it's been since she last touched this story, it makes you wonder if she even cares about it anymore!" Cloud bubbled, beaming boisterously.

Mewtwo waved its tail with displeasure. Surely she must, at least to some extent. Or she would not have even bothered with this update at all… it said, though it sounded uncertain. ("You fool! Don't you know that I've been wracked with guilt over all these days Ike hasn't updated?!" the author protested, except it was a blatant lie meant to garner sympathy from the readers.)

Cloud shrugged, exuding exuberance. "Either way, I'm not complaining. I finally get my chance to shine in this story! Er, well, maybe finally isn't the right word to describe it. I'm actually old news in the real world by now, but at the time this story was last updated, we didn't even know Roy would be coming back! But the author decided it would be too much work to have a long time skip between this chapter and the last, so now I'm just awkwardly out of my temporal place here. Well, nothing to be done about that! I know you chums can keep a secret, so as long as no one else finds out I was here, we'll be fine! I'll be back around the end of the year, and if anyone asks, you never saw me. And I don't know English. Toodle-oo!"

With that, Cloud, oozing enthusiasm, vanished in a puff of rainbow confetti. It sparkled and spun with an exceptional framerate on its merry way to the ground, where it, too, vanished.

Ohh… Mewtwo put a hand to its forehead and moaned in despair. The most powerful Pokemon in the world, reduced to having its life governed by an inane idiot girl who cannot stay committed to anything… Arrrghhhghghghhhhghklhdfkjasdfghjkl; #$%...

It shook itself suddenly, growing serious again. It eyed Lucario in the corner. The Aura Pokemon had literally fainted at Cloud's appearance, but by now had regained consciousness. He trembled, unsure of how to react.

You there. Mewtwo said, causing Lucario to flinch.

Listen well. I AM the most powerful Pokemon in the world, but I must begrudgingly admit that even I have my limits when it comes to the- (it raised its voice) -COMPLETELY IRRESPONSIBLE HIGHER-UP WHO HAPPENS TO CONTROL THIS PARTICULAR FANFICTION. Like it or not, we are in this together. And therefore… Mewtwo extended its hand.

Lucario's eyes darted between the hand and Mewtwo's grim expression until, after a long moment, he finally took it.

Mewtwo continued. Therefore, we are united under a common enemy. We must put aside our differences and join together as brothers. For our foe is not front of us, but up there! It gestured at the fourth wall. And we cannot stand idly by while she continues this tyrannical reign. Hear me, author! We come for you!

Well. At least my plan to make them stop fighting each other worked.

XXX

Dark Pit mulled the Villager's words over his tea and blueberry scones. He had gotten a whole table set up and all for a relaxing teatime chat, except one chair was empty because the Villager was still writhing on the floor in his straitjacket. No one had even questioned why Dark Pit was hauling an entire table down to the basement. He scoffed. This whole mansion was hilariously unaware.

"So," he said to the Villager, "that's what's going on, huh? Well, I should have known. You egomaniacal false-god types are all the same. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go speak with someone."

The Villager hissed and wriggled venomously as Dark Pit slowly finished off the rest of his scone, got up, and left. But he didn't catch the Villager's last, low whisper: "Hehehe… how little you know!"

Dark Pit wandered the mansion until he finally found the person he was seeking in the weight room, training against a sandbag.

"Hey, Little Mac!" he called.

Said boxer turned. "Dark Pit?! Um, do you need something?"

"Unfortunately," Dark Pit said. He pinched the bridge of his nose and gave a deep, long, sigh, preparing himself for the utterly ridiculous request he was about to make.

"...Well, what is it?" Little Mac ventured.

"I need you to punch me into outer space."

XXX

AN: Yes, I abandoned this fic for a while. Yes, I still care about it. Will I ever finish? Well, I'm bad at making promises.

As always, thanks for reading. Tell me how despicable I am in the review box!