The People's Princess 1-2
Bowsette was back home at Castle Toadstool. The structure had stood for generations as a symbol of peace and security. She smoothed her frilly pink dress and straightened the Super Crown on her head. Sharp black talons tore through her white gloves as she pulled them on. 'Oh goodness. My nails are becoming unsightly.'
A shadow overtook the sun, casting her bedroom into sudden chilly darkness, and she heard the sound of claws raking on her door. Something about this situation was at once terrifyingly alien, and unsettlingly familiar. Her feet moved against her will towards the nightmare sounds outside the door, and she watched her ruined glove turn the knob slowly. The door was ripped up in front of her, revealing lightless shadow, and from this shadow came a dark hand that wrapped around her throat, its fingers digging in, slowly crushing...
When Bowsette awoke, she wasn't immediately sure if she was still in the dream, or if she had died, or what. Everything was still dark, and the pressure was still tight around her neck. She knew she was alive when someone punched her in the face. She had been hit before, with fists and hammers and fireballs, but this was different. It hurt more. It also pissed her off more. The black hood was ripped away then, revealing her surroundings. Judging by the dirty walls and the smell of rot, she was being held in some kind of oversized storage shed. In reality, it was the dilapidated headquarters of the Robo Gang, but for all practical purposes Bowsette wasn't entirely wrong in her assumption.
Before her was her assaulter, a bird-like craw. The bandit stepped back with a look of contempt on its face, and leveled a spear at her throat. She thought of some creative things to do with that spear, but her arms were fastened tight together behind her back with chains. Her jaw ached from her rude awakening... and she was naked. "Not the wake up call I requested." Bowsette spit blood.
"That's how we greet people around here. I call it the Rogueport Hello." Ishnail, the boss, stepped into her view. He cracked his knuckles for emphasis, an impressive feat for a snail. "Speaking of which, a couple of my boys greeted you last night, and they haven't returned. Mick Mows tells me you weren't friendly with my boys. Now that's bad enough, but here we go to the trouble of taking your ass, and you don't even have any good loot on ya." Bowsette took note there was about six gang members crammed into the room. She assumed there were probably twice that to keep the grip on Rogueport.
"So here's what we're gonna do. You can be a good girl and walk the port a couple nights, bring Daddy Ishnail some gold, and we'll let you go peaceful like." Some of the gang chuckled at that. "Or," Ishnail continued, "we can pack your ass into a crate and drop you in the big drink."
"This is not going to end well for you." Bowsette grinned, blood in her teeth. She thought about cooking some snail but the chain was still looped harsly around her throat and she could barely speak.
"Hmph. That's a pity. You're a cute piece. Or were. Crate this bitch."
The wooden box was far from airtight, the warm water flooding in quickly. This was a difficult enough situation even if she wasn't still bound in chains. She immediately braced her shell to the side and kicked out with her legs against the other wall. They were bound together, but not to her wrists. That might have made escape completely impossible. Quickly, she gasped one last breath as her head slipped beneath the dark water. In her human form she had noticed she was more susceptible to pain and other sensations, and much of her strength had been stripped. Still, she was stronger than the average human or creature of her size, which she discovered as the crate gave way to her pushing. She made a mental note to test her limits in a more controlled setting at a future date.
Wrists and legs still bound by chains, she was actually glad to have a lighter body. Her old form would have sunk like a rock, not that she was floating exactly. With her breath beginning to burn in her chest she struggled to find a way to the surface, or some form of rescue. Her salvation came in the form of a dirty runoff pipe protruding from beneath the village. Using her saurian tail, she managed to swim (or, perhaps more accurately, flail) her way to the tube. The dark, slimy interior seemed to go on forever, though in reality it couldn't have been more than a few seconds. She was about to gasp a desperate and fatal breath when her head broke the surface of the dirty water. Later, the smell would assault her senses, but for the moment she gladly accepted the provided air.
Bowsette struggled her way out of the tube and onto the damp concrete, bound in chains, dirty, naked, and extremely pissed off. Since her hands were bound in front of her, she could melt them with her fire breath, given enough time. Her leg chains would be more awkward to deal with, but the worst was over. She was going to live. As she superheated the chains she began to formulate her revenge. Sure, she had always intended to conquer Rogueport as a practice run, but Ishnail had made it delightfully personal.
Dark Lands, Bowser's Castle
Junior and Jr Troopa were hanging out in Junior's room. Jr Troopa was a hellion even by Dark Land standards. A whiny, snotty bully with a superiority complex. No one could stand him except Junior, and being his best friend the other members of the castle were putting up with him, for Junior's sake.
"Do you wanna play a game?" Jr Troopa asked.
"No..." Junior replied.
"Wanna prank your lame sister?"
"Ugh. This is boring and lame and you don't want to do anything." Jr Troopa whined staring up at the ceiling. Suddenly he perked up. "Hey, let's go get that lame-o Mario loser."
"Huh?" Junior looked vaguely interested in more than the far wall, for a moment.
"Didn't that guy, you know, kill your dad or whatever? So let's go make him pay. You're a genius and I'm awesome. Between the two of us we can mess up his stupid mustache face!"
"That makes sense. How else would his ship explode?" Junior wiped a tear in his eye, seemingly thinking it over. "Yeah, that's what pops would do! Let's go down to the weapons room. There's all kinds of fun things down there. I'll make pops proud of me."
"Whatever gets us out of this boring room." Jr Troopa agreed. Down in the weapons room Junior began drawing up a plan, while Jr Troopa grabbed (or at least located) the items as Bowser Jr called them out.
"Monty Tank, Pop's hammer, grab the Smithy parts… maybe... oh, we need Chain Chomps, Goomba Boots…."
"Goomba Boots?" Jr Troopa asked. "It should fly, that wouldn't be lame."
Jr Troopa didn't understand what Junior was planning. Mario had tormented his dad for years, but now he had gone too far. It was time he got a taste of his own medicine. In the secrecy of the weapon room Junior began to construct his instrument of revenge.