Gamer4 in, and welcome, one and all, to the beginning of probably my greatest undertaking yet- the fourth installment in the Mario Mario series, Mario Mario and the Bottle of Lightning! Oh, I've got so many things to say here! I suppose I should start with the basics- to everyone returning to the series, welcome back! I'll also extend a welcome to anyone not familiar with the series, but in that case, I'd very much recommend reading the prequels to this story first, otherwise you'll be even more lost than someone who did read the previous installments! In essence, what we have here is a parody of the Harry Potter series, set in the world of video games! I'll be honest- for the first... many chapters, I'll be running two stories at once. I was intending to finish my Live Alive mini-series before getting started on this next installment, but the Mario Mario content of my blood was simply running too low- I could hear this story calling to me, begging to be written. Because, truth be told, this is the story I've been looking forward to the most- the Writing Gamer's Association has a lot of cool things planned for this story. So, here we go, because I simply can't hold back anymore- let's get this big ol' Mario Mario story started- by talking about Markiplier. Makes sense to me! Let's rock!

Disclaimer: Getting all the obvious stuff out of the way right now so I never have to say it again- I don't own Harry Potter or any of the video games that will appear or be referenced throughout. If any OCs of mine appear, (unlikely,) then I'll probably make a note of that. Also, I'll add that I'm not Markiplier. Also, remembering to mention this before the last minute, like I usually do, this story's picture is a slightly edited version of Mario Potter by Duckboy on Deviantart. As usual, thanks to said artist! There, hope you all enjoyed that legitimate disclaimer, it's the last one you're getting this story.

Mario Mario and the Bottle of Lightning

Chapter I

The Locked House

"Hello, everybody, my name is Markiplier, and welcome to Let's Play The Locked House!" spoke an affable-looking young man with messy black hair and a pair of glasses. He was currently looking directly at the webcam on his laptop, where the aforementioned game was already all booted up and ready to go. "This is a very interesting game, just released on Steam, it looks like it's got some really good work put into it, very highly reviewed, so I thought I'd play it for you guys! Apparently, it's based on an actual urban legend from this town, Threed, so I even came over to Threed to record it right where the legend came from! Just to add to the experience, you know. Now, aside from it being in Threed, I don't know much, so I guess I'll just look it up here..."

On the laptop, his cursor slid over the game's menu to an option marked, The Legend. A wall of text appeared, and Mark muttered, "Oh, boy, lots of text to read. Alright, let's get started here... Hmmm... something about an old house where the whole family died- George Locke, Maria Locke, and... another George Locke. Something about nobody really liking them, but everyone was still interested when they all suddenly turned up dead... Why are there always people turning up dead in these games? Well, anyways, nobody could figure out how they died... of course. The only thing the doctors could find wrong with the bodies was that they all looked scared- but nobody really thought that had anything to do with anything- how many people really get scared to death?" Markiplier took a pause from reading the text to note, "Well, actually, about that... never mind." He shook his head and returned to reading. "Anyways, the only witness the police could find said that he saw some guy dressed like a farmboy with these big glasses walking away from the scene, but nobody believed him- something about him hardly having had a cameo before- so, the case is still unsolved to this day! Until now!" Markiplier grinned at the camera. "So, I guess this game is all about trying to solve the murder? Well, I just happen to be recording in a house right next to the house in question!"

Quietly, Mark paused the recording and turned to the window of the house he was recording in, gazing out at the nearby house. It was actually kind of stunning- if the legend was more well-known, he could easily see the place becoming a Mecca for horror fans- if there was any house in the history of the world that more fit the stereotype of an old, creepy, probably-haunted house, it was the Locked House of Threed. It was easy to see that nobody had approached it in years since the murder of the residents. It was an old, foreboding manor house that looked like the wood was rotting in several places, and it sat on the other side of a yard filled with tangled weeds and overgrown grass. It really was the perfect place to be recording a horror game.

Suddenly, his eyes fell on a window on the upper floor, where a flickering orange light had appeared. "Hold on..." he muttered. "What's that?"

He blinked- was there someone already inside the building? As far as he knew, nobody really owned the house- he'd asked around when he'd arrived in Threed, and everybody had said that the building was essentially considered the property of the town. So who could be in there now?

At first, Mark didn't really care, and was on the point of turning back to his laptop to continue recording, until the instincts of a horror-story character- er, I mean, his curiosity- overcame him, and he instead moved to elsewhere in the small house he was staying in, picked up a flashlight, and nothing else, before stepping out into the night.

It was smooth going- until he got to the yard in front of the Locked House. The lawn and yard were the messiest he'd ever seen- bar none. He had to fight his way through extremely long grass to make any progress at all, without contending with all the weeds that had been allowed to grow all around since the place had been abandoned.

Eventually, he arrived in front of the building, and reached out for the knob. However, it wouldn't turn. "Ah... dinkus dammit," he muttered. "I guess I'll go around the back."

As he stepped back into the yard and began fighting his way through the absurdly overgrown yard, he began to mutter to himself, "So, how about a story to pass the time? I remember I was talking about American history- where was I? Can't quite remember... how about I just tell you about my favorite part? The Hawley-Smoot tariff! I- I'll be honest with you," he continued, not entirely certain who he was talking to, "I don't actually know anything about the Hawley-Smoot Tariff, aside from it was apparently some really bad government decision... but it's got the best name of anything in American history! I could say that all day! Hawley-Smoot Tariff, Hawley-Smoot Tariff, Hawley-Smoot Tariff!"*

Finally, he managed to push through into the backyard, where the beam from his flashlight fell upon... "A graveyard," he muttered, staring at the vast number of tombstones in front of him. "Just when I thought this place couldn't get any more perfect, they have a graveyard in the back, too!"

This place was exciting him more and more, giving him enough energy to fight his way through the last few weeds separating him and the manor's back door. Bad news and good news- the back door wasn't unlocked, but the reason for that is that it had been ripped off of its hinges somewhere along the line. Normally, Mark would have considered this ominous, but his status as the protagonist of a semi-horror story prevented him from noticing the numerous red flags appearing in front of him, and he pressed on into the manor itself.

The kitchen, like everything else in the manor, had fallen into disrepair. The halls were all old, dusty, and falling apart. "Kind of reminds me of Black Rose... or Amnesia," Markiplier muttered, turning to the steps. Well, the light he'd seen was on the upper floors...

How much dust was there on the stairs, you ask? There was so much that none of Mark's footsteps made the slightest noise- the dust was muffling it too well. Finally, he arrived on an upper floor, and spied a door that was slightly ajar, with the orange light pouring out of it. He approached it slowly.

He only paused when he heard a voice speaking out of the room- a very unpleasant, gravelly-sounding voice. "We've still got a little more left, if you want some, sir."

"No... save it for later," came the reply. Mark searched for words to describe this voice, but realized that he simply couldn't find any. The voice was strange, fluctuating from low to high, or, possibly, as though many people were speaking at once. "Now get over here and move me closer to the fire, you cretin!" Not offering any time to complete the deed, he rasped out, "Why haven't you done it yet?"

"Sorry... sorry, sir," the gravelly voice quickly apologized. Mark watched as the form of a large man moved forward and grabbed a chair, moving it closer to a fire in the fireplace that Mark assumed was the source of the light that had brought him here in the first place. The man with the gravelly voice was hunched over, had long, oily, greasy hair, and a scraggly imitation of a beard.

"Where is the Dry Bones, Mumkhar?" the voice in the chair demanded. Mark took a moment to be impressed at how the voice could make even a simple question seem like a demand.

"I think... I think he went off to scout around the house."

"As soon as he gets back, I want you to get some more venom from him," the chair-voice commanded. "I'll need more feeding before tomorrow- this journey has taken a great toll on my health."

Now Mark was curious- what was going on here? He approached as close to the door as he dared, listening as hard as he could.

'Mumkhar' was the next to speak. "So... how long are we staying here, sir?"

"As long as is necessary," Chair-Voice responded. "This place is... important to me. It is more comfortable than other places I have been frequenting lately, and we cannot act until the Smash-Up Grand Prix is over in any case."

Mark blinked. Smash-Up... Grand Prix? That was a tangle of words that held no meaning to him. Maybe he'd misheard? He listened harder.

"Wait, what? What's that got to do with it?" Mumkhar asked, sounding confused. "Why can't we act before the Grand Prix?"

"Mumkhar..." Chair-voice growled out, "You are an idiot. You know that, right? You do realize that, don't you?"

"Yes, sir..."

"Repeat it."

"I'm an idiot..."

"At this very moment, smashers from all over the world are flooding into this country- you know how popular the sport is. The Government of Smashing will be checking, double-checking, triple-checking, and quadruple-checking everybody, and security will be tightened beyond measure to ensure the muggles notice nothing. Attempting to make our move in those conditions would be... unwise, to say the very least."

Now Mark was truly intrigued- while he still didn't fully understand what all these words meant, it was becoming increasingly clear that these people were planning something... something that didn't sound good at all. He began taking mental notes as the conversation continued, struggling to remember everything he could.

"So... we're really doing this, then?" Mumkhar asked, nerves showing in his voice.

"The plan has not altered since the last several times you asked me that, you simpleton."

For a moment, there was silence, then several words came tumbling out of Mumkhar's mouth in quick succession. "Well... maybewecoulddoitwithouttheboy,whatdyasay?"

"Repeat... except this time, so I can understand you."

Mumkhar took a deep breath, then spoke. "Perhaps... it would be easier if we did it without Mario Mario."

The air in the room seemed to freeze. "Without Mario Mario?" spoke the Chair-voice. "Well... when did you become so fond of the boy, Mumkhar?"

"Th-that... That ain't got nothing to do with it!" Mumkhar said quickly. "The boy can... the boy can die, for all I care, it's just... he's one of the heaviest-protected smashers anywhere! Now, if we were to use somebody else, then I could just hop out and pick somebody up, then come right back with them! I mean, just about anyone would do..."

"Well, that is most certainly true..."

Mumkhar looked more eager to speak his views now that the Chair-voice seemed, marginally, to be agreeing with him. "That's right, sir. Let's just forget about Mario Mario- you can worry about him when you get stronger. Right now, he's just so out of reach-"

He was cut off by laughter from the Chair-voice, laughter that he didn't seem to like any more than Mark did. "And you say you'll go out and find someone else for me? Awfully convenient, isn't it, that your plan involves leaving me? You know what I think, Mumkhar? I think that this plan of yours is just an excuse to get away from me!"

"O-of course not, sir!" Mumkhar said quickly, looking mortified. "It-it's just that-"

"Do not lie to me, Mumkhar," Chair-voice growled, all humor suddenly disappearing from his voice. "I know- you are beginning to regret returning to me! You are beginning to wish you'd left me where I was!"

"I- I would never-"

"For that matter, would you really have returned to me if you thought you'd had any other choice? The loyalty I receive from you, Mumkhar, is no more than cowardice!"

Mumkhar tried to splutter out some other words, as Chair-voice continued. "And where would it leave me if you left, Mumkhar? I cannot perform the functions I require to survive on my own."

"You're much stronger than you were!"

"That would mean more if I'd had any strength in the first place," Chair-voice retorted, prompting Mumkhar to return to random spluttering. "I have only a fraction of my old strength back, and it would only take a few days alone to rob me of the little strength I have regained. SHUT UP!" the voice abruptly shouted, in the exact fashion of Smosh, and finally bringing an end to said spluttering.

Another moment of silence. Finally, Chair-voice broke it. "Now, I've explained this before, and I'll do it again- slowly, in the hope that this time, some of it might actually penetrate that brain of yours. I have my own reasons for using Mario Mario. I am aware that this will mean my plans will be delayed, but I have already waited thirteen years- I think I can wait a little longer. I am also aware that Mario Mario is under the heaviest protection that fool of a hand can provide... but my plan will be effective enough. All we need is for you to show a little courage for a change."

"And you trust me to do it?"

"Not particularly- I trust you to know what awaits you if you fail."

Mumkhar flinched. "Sir... I think I've spotted a flaw in the plan." Another moment passed, and, seeing that Chair-voice wasn't going to speak again, he broke it. "Adrian Andrews... her disappearance can't be covered up forever. They're bound to find out sooner or later, and when they do... and if I murder someone else on top of that-"

"Am I going mad, or did the word 'if' just escape your lips?" Chair-voice hissed. "If you perform as I expect you to, Mumkhar, the Government won't realize that anyone else has died until it's already too late. All you must do is act carefully and quietly. One more death, and the world is ours! You won't have to do it alone- when the time comes, my faithful servant will have returned..."

"I- I am faithful!" Mumkhar objected.

"Perhaps so, but for my purposes, I need someone who has never given me any reason to distrust them- someone with brains- descriptions, in other words, that do not apply to you."

The barest trace of anger crossed Mumkhar's face. "But... I'm the one who found you! I'm the one who brought you Adrian Andrews in the first place!"

"I will concede that," Chair-voice agreed. "And I would agree with you fully... if I thought for a moment you understood just how valuable she'd be to me. If I thought that your contribution to my plan was anything more than a happy accident."

"I thought she'd be useful-"

"Stop lying to me!" Another pause. "However, whether you knew or not, she was invaluable. Without her, we would not be in the position we are now, poised to take the world, should we act properly. Thusly, I will reward you- you will be allowed to perform a great service for me, one that many of my followers would give their hands to perform."

"You mean... you're going to kill me, too?" Mumkhar stuttered, fear entering his voice.

"Kill you?" Chair-voice laughed. "Why would I do that? I killed Adrian because we were left with no other choice. She was little more than a vegetable after we'd extracted all that information from her, you should know that- and if she was ever found again, she'd have a very interesting story to tell, about the supposedly dead smasher she'd met..."

A quiet muttering from Mumkhar later, and Chair-voice was back to laughing. "Change her memory?" he chortled. "You should know just as well as I do that alterations to memories are not permanent- you were there when I broke through her mental barriers, after all. Besides, you're the one who seems to want to dishonor her memory by not using the information we gathered from her!"

Mark was, at this point, frozen where he stood. He'd stumbled onto something big here... this guy who was talking, the guy in the chair, he was a maniac! He'd killed at least one person, and was planning to kill more! He was after this... this Mario Mario... strange name. Mark glanced over his shoulder. He'd have to get out of here, let someone know- if he didn't, this Mario Mario was in danger.

Finally, he turned, and was on the verge of returning to the stairs when he froze again- a dark figure was walking up the steps. As it rose up to the same floor Mark was on, it took everything he had to not shout in fear- it was a large, hulking, turtle-like creature, except made entirely of bones- with a small, flickering light in the eye sockets. It was also walking on its hind legs. Mark pulled into the shadows as much as he could, willing the creature to walk past... and then, miraculously, it did, ignoring him and heading straight into the room with the two conspirators.

Chair-voice was making some more noises- noises unidentifiable to Mark- a strange series of grunting and clicking noises, noises that seemed to be mirrored by the turtle-creature. A strange thought occurred to Mark, an impossible thought... but if it wasn't true, then what was going on here? Was it really possible that Chair-voice could talk to the bone-creature?

"Well," came Chair-voice once more. "Dry Bones has a very interesting story to tell me, Mumkhar."

"W-what's he sayin', sir?"

"According to Dry Bones here, there is a muggle standing right outside our door, eavesdropping on our conversation."

Mark made an attempt to hide himself, but before he could, the door was flung open, and Mumkhar appeared in the frame.

"Stand aside, Mumkhar, allow him in, be polite!"

Mumkhar did so, beckoning for Mark to enter. Behind him sat the chair with Chair-voice in it, with the... Dry Bones in the corner, watching with what appeared to be a quiet interest.

Mark took a deep breath, and walked over the threshold. He was starting to wonder if he'd be able to fight his way out- Mumkhar didn't look particularly strong, and, judging from the fact that his head didn't even rise over the back of his chair, Chair-voice seemed to be even smaller. The Dry Bones would be a bigger problem, but... well, Mark had seen plenty of strange things before. If it really came down to it...

"So, how much did you hear, muggle?"

"Muggle, huh? That's what you're calling me?"

"Muggle- you are not a smasher, thus, you are a muggle," Chair-voice explained, in the most snidely condescending voice he could muster.

"Well, I don't know what a 'smasher' is, but I'll tell you that I have a name- you can call me Markiplier, and I am too pro for the likes of you!" Mark didn't know where this courage was coming from- yeah, he'd seen plenty of strange things before, and it always seemed like, when the time came to confront them at last- all the fear he'd had disappeared. "You clearly don't know how pro I am! And I'll add this-" he said quickly. "I've got a lot of fans who will want to know what's happened if I don't come out of this alive- you'll have a lot to deal with if I disappear."

"All muggles," Chair-voice muttered snidely. "I can deal with anything you puny muggles throw at me. I am Tabuu, lord of the smashers, and-"

"Oh, what, you're calling yourself a 'Lord,' now, huh?" Mark laughed. "You're just crouching down behind that chair, like a loser, talking to this guy over here, like a loser, using a bunch of made-up words, like a loser, and acting like you're still all that and a case of Mountain Dew, like a loser!"

When 'Tabuu' spoke again, it was with fury in his voice. "You will not speak to me that way! I am so much more than you will ever be!"

"You say that, but you're still not even pro enough to face me like a man!"

"I am not a man- I am not even human. I am so, so much more than that. Perhaps you need a demonstration- Mumkhar, turn me around!"

Mark scoffed as Mumkhar loped over to the chair, and, looking reluctant, turned it around. Mark's scoffing turned to yelling as he saw the monstrosity within. "Holy BALLS!" he called out, terror making its way into his face as the monstrosity began to stretch out a large set of butterfly-shaped wings...

The next second, Mark collapsed to the floor, dead before he touched it. Tabuu's laughter rang out, and, many miles away, in the town with the strangest name in the country, Mario Mario awoke with a start.

XXXX

And thus begins the next installment of the Mario Mario series! Which, ironically enough, didn't include any Mario Mario in it until the very end! Ah, well. Anyways, quick announcement- as I noted in the opening notes, I am still writing the Live Alive mini-series, so that will be receiving updates alongside this story. Also, there are a couple of stories that I'll be re-uploading after being absent from my profile for a while, but I'll try to keep it to only two stories at a time- that way, I don't get so overwhelmed. So, for the first several chapters of this story, I will be running two stories at once- but I will also be giving this story the attention it deserves! Like I said, I've been looking forward to this one for a long time. Also, just to alert any newcomers and to remind those of you who are returning- we are running a Q&A here, so if there's something about this story that's confusing you, like a line you're pretty sure was a reference, but you're not sure, feel free to ask it in reviews, and we of the Writing Gamer's Association (which is, unfortunately, back to consisting of just me and my cat,) will answer to the best of our abilities! Anyways, we've dragged this out long enough- see you next chapter, when this story will get a good 99% more actual Mario! Until then, please R&R, constructive criticism and questions embraced, flames, not so much, Gamer4 out!