Chapter Text
Marx floated in the vastness of space; among the stars, planets, and rubble of the aftermath.
He hadn’t known how long he was out here. All he recollected were moments after crashing into the Nova that had granted him these powers… which now he thought about, surprised him somewhat; becoming a galactic, power-hungry maniac boss had its benefits. For example, not perishing from lack of oxygen, from the explosion, from the battle with Kirby-
...from the battle with Kirby .
His head jumbled and rushed with short bursts of memories containing the pink puffball, jumping from phrases of, “ Hey, hey, hey ,” to “ Thanks to you, I can cause all the mischief I want! ”
Sounds of distorted cackling, to feeling overwhelming power, and the sight of a pink face being confused, betrayed, upset, and… And-
He stared up into the depths of twinkling lights, not daring to move a single muscle or twitch of a wing. He didn't know how long he had remained in that position. For all he'd care, a couple minutes, or maybe hours, years , had passed by.
Or perhaps all at once within a single time frame of a second.
But all that mattered was the plan, of what he’d gained, of how close he was to his goal of conquering Popstar; the thrill, the excitement , his galactic ambition--
--yet it all crashed down on him with the single interference of its guardian, Kirby.
He'd laugh, and he probably did, and would continue until he'd run out of breath and attempt to test out the limits of his newfound abilities, but the aftereffects of combat troubled him with soreness and an ever-increasing migraine.
The steady slowness of fatigue blocked the corners of his vision with darkness, which went unnoticed from the emptiness of space, causing him to drift into the limbo of nauseating restlessness.
The numbing yet deafening pain pulsed throughout his body; he felt himself being detached from his reality- many realities, yet still intact on this plane of existence.
He felt himself grow pale of this cycle, wanting to move away, to do something, anything , yet his energy to do so was zapped out of him.
He felt very hot to the touch, yet very cold to his core; the sweat that clinged like armor to his skin and the small warmth of his trademark red-blue jester hat did very little to help.
Still, his eyes traveled to the looming vibrant yellow star; its Sun and Moon contently orbiting the planet, peacefully securing the days and nights that were soon to come; ensuring the safety of its inhabitants and-
The shining dots twirled and sparkled, seemingly dancing with laughter as an invitation to explore their worlds, but all Marx could do was pass out in the midst of nowhere, a sad smile plastered on his face.
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Kirby stood near the fountain of dreams, watching as the star rod shot a beacon of light out towards the night sky, gradually increasing in thickness and size.
He felt the blinding flash envelop him, laying out the past events before him.
The jester seemed so carefree and happy, seeking out the hero of Dreamland to stop the chaos that interfered with the daily routines of many. Bouncing and balancing on his ball with ease, he guided Kirby through the steps of resolving the conflict with the power of wishes from Nova.
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Maybe Kirby should of foreseen this, with the recent happenings of King Dedede stealing the foodstocks, Dyna Blade in an outrage for fear of her chicks’ well-beings, and as result, killing most of the crops throughout Dreamland, and Meta Knight’s annoyance at the lazy lifestyle, causing him to attempt to take matters in his own hands.
Kirby didn't mind at all, it only meant spending time with the ones he cared about, and soon after the conflict was over and dealt with, he'd come over and have a celebration of strawberry cheesecakes (mostly for himself) and forgive them. He'd have to admit, it was amusing seeing their expressions contort into ones that varied with each personality and lifestyle, but most of them had fun when he did.
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The jester’s true colors shocked him momentarily. Just when he would speak out to say his wish for peace, Marx slammed into him, abruptly shouting about what he wanted.
Kirby was hurt, both physically and emotionally- although that kick created a small bruise that would last for about a week, but Kirby could understand that maybe, just maybe, that Marx did it for the greater good. Don't get him wrong, Meta Knight chided him for an hour about how there would be others similar to Marx that had evil intentions to use him easily- but Kirby preferred to believe in the best of everyone.
Yeah, maybe it would kill him someday, but he would try, and try, and try again, and again, and again- solely for the purpose of showing the world that, yes , there is good inside each and every one of us. It was only a matter of time and patience to reveal that love that was hidden away from the world.
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Even if Marx had his wish granted and had an ulterior motive of conquering planets, Kirby just knew that it was for something bigger, grander, yet better than before..! Maybe not in those exact words, but someone that would be a great friend to others!
So when Kirby gazed into Marx’s eyes after being kicked aside, he showed him empathy, love , pity… He wanted to give him a hug and tell him that things would be okay- that everything would settle down and they could have a strawberry cheesecake festival; that Marx didn't have to keep up this act and they could go back home together and rest.
Kirby saw conflict in his eyes for a quick millisecond before the adrenaline of power consumed him, which caused him to shoot off towards Popstar, leaving only but the distant laughter and the wish granter’s trail of light.
To say that Kirby was sad was an understatement. He didn't want to fight him, he didn't want to fight a friend , somebody that he thought he might enjoy being around, but he didn't want his home to be destroyed.
With a troubled heart, Kirby set out to cease the Nova, and soon after, Marx.
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As resolve settled into the depths of ocean blue eyes, the fountain’s beam of light compressed itself into an orb that withheld the warmth of the warp star; playfully bobbing in midair with newfound purpose. The pink puffball hopped on with a small “ poyo ,” and sailed off into the depths of the inky black night, determined.
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