As I continued on the road to the NSider Loudhouse, hoping to avoid any additional unwanted encounters, my PM watch beeped, signifying an incoming message. I stopped to take a quick look.
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FROM: POWERTOMARIO Add User to Friends List – Add User to Ignore List
SENT: 08/16/07 – 9:32 P.M.
I’m glad to hear that you are ok, SM. For whatever reason, I always know that you’ll be fine, yet I continue to worry for your safety. Anyway, the only thing I know about the 1337 is from the legend you spoke of. It’s supposedly a weapon of great power, but that’s just a myth told to little kids. If you’re really adamant to know more, I will research it at the Tech Support Board and contact you tomorrow morning (and even if not, you know I can’t refuse an intellectual endeavor). Good luck with whatever it is that you’re doing. Just try not to get yourself killed.
As I had suspected, PowerToMario would never turn down the opportunity to learn more information about the history of NSider. Having him deal with finding out more about this would be perfect, as I could focus on the task at hand before worrying about this much bigger problem. I promptly responded to his message confirming that I had received it successfully and wishing him luck. Hoping that he would get back to me within a day or two with more valuable information, I continued into Power On, where the NSider Loudhouse came into view on the horizon. This area of the forum was strangely empty, so I was able to stick to the main street and walk at a leisurely pace without worry of being identified as an assassin.
The NSider Loudhouse was truly an establishment that defined the nature of NSider. The walls of this large brick structure were decorated with decals of all sorts of Nintendo heroes, from the infamous 8-bit Mario to more obscure ones like Lolo and Bubbles. Despite its rowdy atmosphere, it was revered by critics around the forum for having some of the best food anywhere. Much to my surprise, it was not as busy as usual tonight; usually there is a line that extends halfway down the block just to get inside. Still, there were many users standing in groups outside, presumably families waiting for booths to open up. Keeping my head down, I silently walked past them and through the suspended wooden saloon-like doors. The restaurant was operating like a well-oiled machine; almost every table was filled and those that were vacant were being cleaned and set up for new guests. As always, it was very loud inside, making it somewhat difficult to even hear my own thoughts. There were television sets visible from almost every angle of the restaurant, too, each tuned into a sports broadcast or news channel. The wooden walls were lined with pictures taken from various video games and the floor of the restaurant looked like brick blocks from Super Mario Bros. Spotting a vacant seat at the bar, I quickly proceeded to occupy the silver bar stool.
There was always a fully stocked bar at the NSider Loudhouse with a wide array of selections. One of the many specialties here and one of my favorite beverages on the menu was Loqua, fine liquor that tasted like fruit juice rather than strong alcohol, though it still had plenty of that mixed in. That and a nice shroom steak would give me just the pick-me-up I needed to quickly execute the X-Naut and move on to investigate the tale told by Falcon6. Although I couldn’t completely trust his words just yet, if the Sage was anywhere close to the truth, this quest of curiosity could spiral into something much bigger with much more at stake. Getting mixed up with the NOAs was never something I intended on doing, but it seems as if I had no choice but to be overly cautious. I decided it would be best to prepare for the worst and this fine meal was certainly a good start. Silently flagging down the bartender, I placed my order and resumed my pensive state.
Assuming the Sage actually knew what he was talking about, this would be the first piece of evidence I have ever seen for the 1337’s existence. However, I had trouble coming to terms that this machine – or weapon as PowerToMario called it – could have existed all this time without someone finding it. Unless it was closely guarded by the NOAs, it would be impossible to shield from the millions of users in this community. Luckily I had PowerToMario on the hunt for some information, so hopefully I would soon know a little more about this folklore. Still, it seemed like I was going headfirst into this blindfolded, as I had no insight on whether or not there was truth to this tale. For all I knew, it could have just been something Falcon6 made up to impress his guests. Despite that, I figured that knowing the truth was worth the risk; if the 1337 really did exist and so few people knew about it, then perhaps ultimate power would be within my grasp. But was it really possible that the NOAs would not destroy such a dangerous item in fear of this happening? Beginning to grow frustrated at my lack of knowledge on the subject, I exclaimed under by breath, “None of this makes any sense!”
Apparently I said that a little louder than I initially thought, as the bartender looked inquisitively towards me as if he wanted to make conversation. He set the Loqua down in front of me on a coaster and looked me in the eye, to which I quickly lowered my head. “Hey, bud. What’s troublin’ you?” He asked, trying to bait me into talking. Ignoring his words, I slipped enough posts on the counter to pay for the drink and snatched the glass off the table. Apparently, with that action, the bartender got enough of a glimpse at my face to open his smug mouth again. “Hmm…” he said, “You look somewhat familiar. Like…umm…” I didn’t say a word as I drank the delicious beverage, immediately satisfied by its soothing flavor. “You wouldn’t happen to be ShadowMario41, would you?” I mistakenly flinched at the sound of his words and coughed a few times on my drink, revealing all that the bartender needed to know that his identification was correct. Even though I was useless at this point, I replied, “And if I am? What then?” My attempt at covering myself failed, though, as I looked up and saw a witty yet confident look on his face.
“You’re the guy who hosts that trivia contest on the Mario board, is that right?” I actually felt somewhat relieved that he did not recognize me due to my profession as an assassin, so I became a little more lax in dealing with the situation. Since there wasn’t much left to hide, I discretely nodded, which only caused the conversation to continue. “Ah, I gotta hand it to ya, that contest looks to be quite a success. Probably one of the best I’ve seen in the recent years of NSider. But what brings you out drinkin’ at the Loudhouse? Bad day?” “You know a lot about me, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before.” I said, still trying to keep a relaxed posture as I enjoyed my drink. “I’m Zovistograt. I’ve worked at the NSider Loudhouse as a bartender for…oh… ten years now. I take it you don’t come here often…” “I’m usually…” I started, but decided it would be best not to continue or delve into specifics. “…usually busy…” “Busy?” Zovistograt said with a chuckle, “You know how many times I’ve heard that? Come on, what’s troublin’ ya?” With one elbow up against the counter, the chatty bartender leaned towards me, beckoning me to tell my story. He was an older man, probably in his fifties as signified by the slight wrinkles on his face, but seemed to still be as energetic as a young schoolboy. He was wearing a black button-down shirt with a blue t-shirt underneath, a black belt, and black dress pants. He had a scruffy white mustache and goatee, calm blue eyes and somewhat of a receding hairline, but it did not seem as if his age affected him in the slightest.
With no response from me, he continued to beckon me to share my story. “Do you know how many crazy stories I hear in this bar?” He said, “I hear things from cheating wives to backstreet brawls to run-ins with the law. Bartender’s oath, you know, to never tell a soul.” “Hmph” I said, setting my glass down on the counter and folding my arms. However, I quickly realized that I may be able to get some juicy information out of this guy. If he ready had heard crazy stories from other NSiders, perhaps at least one of them talked about the 1337… or something even more far-fetched. Maybe if I could ask him just the right questions, I could acquire some valuable information. I looked up only to find that I may have missed my opportunity, as he simply shrugged and walked away as one guy blurted out in a drunken stupor from across the bar, “Hey Zovi! Another round of Lon Lon Rum for the guys!”
Beginning to once again grow somewhat frustrated at myself, my inner thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of my shroom steak. “Is there anything else you need, sir?” The waitress said as I looked up, but then the expression on both of our faces changed suddenly. I immediately recognized her from our encounter in Dr. Peppy’s office. “You’re HyruleGirl9…” I said, “What are you doing here?” I started to feel slightly nervous, as she could have been sent by Dr. Peppy to deal with me. Leaning down behind me, she whispered into my ear, “The better question is what are you doing here? A public place like this is not the ideal way to hide.” Unsure of what she meant, I asked, “Hide? From what?” “Dr. Peppy, of course,” she said sternly, “Word has it that you stole something from him. That story quickly spread and tarnished Dr. Peppy’s otherwise perfect reputation of not letting his workers get the best of him. In other words…” she paused for a brief moment to catch her breath, “…he’s pissed.” “I see…” I said softly, looking down towards the floor. “We can talk later… my shift ends soon if you care to stick around…” I turned around as she walked away only to find Zovistograt’s face smiling back at me. “How do you know her?” He said, slyly, “She’s only been here a few weeks and I don’t think this is her only source of income if you know what I mean.”
Choosing to ignore Zovistograt’s previous statement, I set my glass of loqua down and met him with my eyes. After thinking for a moment, I came to the conclusion that the best way to find out information was to just lay all of my cards on the table. Softly, I spoke, “Zovistograt…” “Please…” he said, cutting me off, “Call me Zovi.” Slightly irritated that he cut me off, I continued, “Alright then…Zovi, what do you know of the 1337?” His expression suddenly changed and he was staring at me as if I had two heads. While I waited for a reply, I cut the first bite of the succulent steak and shoved it into my mouth. It was cooked perfectly and the savory taste of mushrooms and beef was a welcome one compared to what I’ve been scraping together for food. As I was chewing the scrumptious meat, Zovistograt called out loudly to the entire bar, “Hey! This guy wants to know about the 1337!!!” I nearly choked on my food upon hearing this, as the whole bar turned towards me and started to laugh. I could not make out exactly what they were all saying, but I could tell they took me for a fool.
I swallowed my morsel of steak and tried to retain my composure, but the taunts and jeers were just too much. They were coming from every which way and I was trapped in the middle with no possible escape. It filled me with anger that these drunken scumbags were laughing over a question that could lead to a potentially serious situation concerning the entire forum. Normally I have a firm grip on my emotions, but this sense of anger was boiling in the pit of my stomach, like a pool of lava about to erupt from a volcano. My hands began to tremble as the tormenting continued, with one user in particular mentioning how I was a n00b for even asking about something like that. I could feel the muscles on my forehead tightening and the veins on the backs of my hands began to bulge. Across the room I noticed that there was a dartboard hanging on the wall almost directly in my line of sight. My right hand started to glow with a dark blue pulse of energy as I picked up the knife that was provided with my shroom steak and hurled it towards the dartboard. Before anyone could say another word, the energy-infused knife struck the bull’s-eye of the board with a loud cracking sound. The taunts from the other users at the bar instantly ceased and their expressions changed to that of fear. I glanced around at their despicable faces and remarked, “The next one might be aimed at your head.” As if on cue, the brick wall behind the board started to crack and the board fell to the ground with a loud thud.
Satisfied with my work, the whole restaurant was silenced as I calmly returned to my meal and motioned the stunned Zovistograt to pour me another drink. “Is everything ok with your meal?” HyruleGirl9 said, returning for the usual waitress check-up. I nodded and she smiled, “Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?” Upon hearing HyruleGirl9 ask me this, Zovistograt blurted out while waving his arms frantically and pointing in the direction of my target, “H-How can you still stand to serve this guy!? Didn’t you see what he did!?” Looking somewhat confused, HyruleGirl9 glanced over at the crack in the wall and the dartboard on the floor. “So?” She said, “We have another board in the back...” “You’re missing the point! He just chucked a steak knife at that tiny dartboard about 100 feet away. Not only did he get a bull’s-eye, but he broke the damn wall!” “Eh… it’s just a little crack.” HyruleGirl9 said, unsure of why the aged bartender was making this into such a huge fiasco. “He could’ve killed someone!” Zovistograt shouted, continuing to make overly-exaggerated gestures while I continued to enjoy my meal. “I think he knew what he was doing.” HyruleGirl9 said in a slightly annoyed tone as she tapped me on the shoulder to get my attention. I glanced up from my half-eaten steak at HyruleGirl9, who smiled back at me and continued talking to Zovistograt, “All these blockheads that drink themselves to death don’t know a thing about real fighting. That was a small glimpse into the power of a skilled warrior.”
“Who ya callin’ blockhead!?” One man from the other end of the bar yelled as his stood up, followed by two of his burly friends, and walked over to HyruleGirl9. “Ya know I don’t normally hit girls, but if you really want to see power then I can make an exception.” His knuckles cracked as he finished his sentence and the two guys accompanying him laughed at the sound of it. This muscular man was about six-and-a-half feet tall and was in nothing but a white muscle shirt, tan cargo shorts and military-style boots with a camouflage pattern on them. “You want to fight me here?” HyruleGirl9 asked while tapping her foot on the floor, “You do realize I’m on the clock, right? I can’t be fighting now.” “Ha!” the user laughed before continuing, “Zovi is a witness to everythin’ I said. I’ll take all the blame for your beating.” “Why did you have to get me involved, V” Zovistograt said with a sheepish grin on his face, “I don’t get paid extra for this stuff.”
I immediately stiffened up at the sound of his name. V was the name of that assassin that MegaFreak400 had mistaken me for and the one I about whom I always heard stories. Even though the brute did not seem to fit the bill, I never heard anything about V’s physical appearance, so I assumed the worst. HyruleGirl9 must have been thinking about the same thing, as she immediately asked for his full name. “Oh sorry,” he exclaimed sarcastically, “How silly of me. I guess you should know who’s gonna beat you up.” “Ugh…” HyruleGirl9 groaned at the pettiness of this confrontation and towards the behavior of this ignorant individual. “I’m V_Power_Of_Doom, it’s a pleasure to beat you…” “If you really are V,” she said, setting down her tray and assuming a fighting pose, “then this will be interesting.” I set down my fork, which clanked on my empty plate, and observed the scuffle. If this really was the infamous V, I wanted to see him in action. “Hey, hey now!” Zovistograt tried to call out from behind the bar, “You know you can’t do this at work. C’mon! The boss won’t like this.” His words were to no avail, as HyruleGirl9 and V_Power_Of_Doom continued to face each other, determined to fight. After a few more pleas, Zovistograt finally gave up and allowed the confrontation to commence. “Why do these things always happen to me?” Zovistograt sighed loudly, and then said with a depressed tone in his voice, “I really should get time-and-a-half for working the night shift.”
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