Marth’s Mesozoic Mauling (Hotbuns)

And here's the other one of these dumb things I did a while back! Both this and the previous one were related to my dream picks for Smash and what their movepools would be like; I may do more of these with other Smash Bros. Ultimate wish list choices of mine and other cute fighters already in the game itself.

Hope you enjoy! :)

Super Smash Bros. and all affiliated properties belong to Nintendo. Spyro the Dragon (who makes a minor appearance in the beginning) belongs to Insomniac Games. Primal Rage belongs to Atari Games.

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Marth's Mesozoic Mauling

by Skaea

Contains: M/M and */M hotbuns. SFW.

Word Count: 4,468

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It was not every day that Marth had to visit Dr. Mario’s office, but whenever he did, it was usually very bad news. He wasn’t sure what to make of it, but most of his fellow fighters considered him a sort of “sacred cow” - outside of combat, he was virtually untouchable. Nobody wanted to mess with a veteran such as him, even if compared to the likes of Mario, Kirby, or Pikachu, he would have to settle for second-best. Still, for the most part, he was alright with the respect he was given.

For some reason or another, though, most of the newcomers to the battlefield hadn’t gotten the memo.

The blue-haired prince exited the doctor’s office with a slight limp in his step, and just his luck that a (fully-clothed) blond Homs and a little purple dragon happened to be the first two people he saw.

“How was it?” asked Shulk.

“Could be better,” Marth replied in a slightly testy manner, rubbing the back of his hips with a disconcerted expression. “This is in no ill will to your friend, but… Perhaps his fighting style could use a little more, um, tact?”

Spyro grimaced, a guilty look on his face. The reason Marth had visited the doctor’s office was that he had taken on the purple dragon a mere half-hour earlier. It hadn’t gone well for Marth, suffice it to say. Spyro fully expected to be scolded for his behavior, and even though the prince was handling it with surprising dignity for someone who’d had his buttocks impaled by a pair of razor-sharp dragon horns several times over the course of five minutes – and that wasn’t getting into the Dragon Breath, mind – his words still stung a little.

“Guess I’m just so used to the dragon way of fighting that I can’t help but break out my style every match,” said Spyro. “So what are you gonna tell me, that I’ve got bad manners for a fighter?”

“I… I’m not sure what to say, in fact,” replied Marth. “I suppose it could be worse. The boss of my Classic Mode route isn’t Master Hand anymore, suffice it to say, but now I can’t even look at anything draconic without suffering horrible flashbacks. No offense, of course.”

It was Shulk who responded to that one. “If you have to go after someone for having your buns toasted by a Rathalos, couldn’t you talk it up with Master Hand himself? He’s the one who arranges our encounters, and–”

“It’s alright. It’s not like I can do much about it. But whatever may come, I WILL prove my strength as the prince of Altea, at any cost.”

Spyro smiled in admiration, but then his face fell. “Look, I’m sorry for messing you up like that. I guess you’re right, I really should be more careful–”

He was interrupted when Marth responded, a rueful smile on his face. “It’s alright. I understand. I have the same complaint about other draconic fighters I’ve had to deal with – Bowser, Charizard, and now Ridley – and it’s at least nice to know that you’re willing to improve.”

“Uh… thank you?”

“So, are you up against anyone else today?” asked Shulk, patting Spyro’s head in reassurance. “Hopefully you won’t end up having to spend more time at Dr. Mario’s…”

“Well, I do have one more fight for the day,” replied Marth. “It’s supposedly against one of the trial newcomers, someone from Atari I believe. His name’s Talon. They haven’t explained more, though, so I’ll have to be on my guard in any case.”

“Oh. Well, good luck regardless. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

Marth smiled a little. “I’ll do my best. Whoever wins, this will definitely be a match to remember!”

The other two stepped aside to let Marth pass them, and watched him go, waving politely. Once he was out of earshot, they glanced at each other.

“So, uh… You’re still not mad at me for our first match, right?” asked Spyro. “I don’t know if Marth was, but…”

The blond shrugged, though he would swear his bottom had started tingling. “No hard feelings. Marth’s right, it’s no worse than what the resident fighters put me and everyone else through on a regular basis. Guess I should’ve known that before signing up,” he added with a laugh.

Spyro chuckled as well, and then quickly decided to change the subject. “So… Who’s butt is Marth gonna be kicking, anyhow?”

“I dunno. He said something about Atari. But I can think of only a few games from there that’d fit.”

“Don’t you have Pong as an assist trophy?”

“Color TV-Game 15 is a clone of that game.”

“Who could it be… Asteroids? Centipede? Tetris? That one alien from that one game that contributed to the Crash of ‘83?”

Shulk scratched his chin in his typical fashion. “Nah, too stupid. Actually, I think Marth mentioned his name. Talon. There was a minor Zelda-verse character with that name, but I don’t think they’ve considered him viable. Plus, he’s not from an Atari game. In fact, there’s only one character fitting both criteria that I know of–”

They were silent for a few moments as the horrified realization sunk in.

“Hug me,” said Spyro, his pupils now pinpricks as he clung to his buddy’s leg.

Shulk was all too happy to oblige.

*****

Marth emerged onto a jungle setting, surrounding what looked like an airline runway which was presumably the main area of the stage. No stage hazards, Marth only, and not quite Final Destination but close enough. Behind him in the background was a waterfall cascading into a glistening pool, and before him was a large cluster of prehistoric-looking palm trees. He was reminded somewhat of Kongo Jungle, but there was no bottomless pit this time and certainly no sunset. And what were those weird leathery-winged creatures in the distance, wyverns of some sort?

“THREE… TWO… ONE… GO!!!”

Marth raised his sword, the legendary Falchion, looking around in the hopes of finding his enemy. But there was none, at least not directly in front of him. He had sworn there was something already in the same battlefield as he was now, but whatever it was, it was gone now.

“Whoever you are,” he called out to nobody in particular, “come out and face me!”

Nothing. Just the rustle of trees in the distance. And the strange calls of creatures he had never heard or seen before, for that matter…

He was wondering how soon it would be before he decided to forfeit the match and tell Master Hand that his opponent didn’t even want to fight when he felt something hit him on the head (“Ow!”). Looking down to see a Poké Ball, he instantly knelt down and picked it up, before throwing it just to see what would happen.

“BEEWEEAAARRR!”

In spite of the obvious boost in confidence Marth couldn’t help but feel a little apprehensive. Bewear was said to be able to snap the spine of an unwary trainer just by hugging him or her, and he had been on the receiving end of its Sky Uppercut several times now and knew it meant business. He backed away slightly, waiting for Bewear to make its move. Sure enough, within a few moments, it sensed something in the bushes at the far end of the stage. Something quite large and none too friendly.

The two of them advanced forward until the vegetation was just feet away, and then Marth stopped. Bewear meanwhile continued to saunter towards the bushes, its burly arms waving in a seemingly friendly manner.

Ahead of them, the bushes rustled. Something snarled, a low rasping noise that sent a chill down Marth’s spine. He turned and looked away as Bewear charged, swinging its arms with a cry of fury.

The noises he heard during the next few moments would be seared into his memory for weeks.

Bewear burst out of the bushes, screaming in terror, not looking at where it was going and only focusing on escaping. Marth yelped and turned to run, unaware of the dozens of scratches and tooth marks covered it from head to toe. More surprising still, Bewear was moving much faster than he had anticipated…

SLAM-CRACKKK!

“MMMPGHHH!”

Bewear had trampled him into the ground, stepping on the back of his head with such force that his face had actually made a crater in the concrete. How was that even possible, was Bewear just that strong?! In any case, while his head had amazingly only received a splitting headache, he was now stuck, and finding it hard to breathe. Bewear’s earth-shaking footsteps faded off into the distance along with its screams of terror, leaving only him to confront whatever had maimed it earlier.

Desperate to get free and grab his sword before things got worse, Marth planted his hands and feet on the ground and tried to push himself as hard as he could, not caring that this not only caused his cape to fall over his shoulders but also left his backside pointing straight up like a “kick me” sign. Behind him, peering from the bushes, a pair of crimson eyes with slitted pupils zeroed in on that tempting target, covered only in his dark blue breeches…

The sound of thumping footsteps approaching made Marth realize what was happening a second too late. With a horrible SNAP, two rows of razor-sharp teeth sank into his left buttock.

“MMMMMMFFFFMMMMMMGGGGHHHGHHHHH!!”

Marth’s scream of anguish was muffled thanks to his face having been smashed into the concrete ground, and he continued crying out in pain as the creature thrashed its head around with its succulent prize firmly in its grip. It was only a few agonizing tugs before the creature pulled him free with a squishing POP! Within a matter of seconds, it had yanked the flailing, protesting prince into the bushes.

SCREEEECH! “AIIIEEEEEEE!” SNAP! CHOMP! “YOWWWWTCH!” SNARL! RIP RIP! GRAWWRR! “OW OW OWWIIEEE! MY PAAAAANTS!”

It bears mentioning at this point that the battle was set up as a three-stock, with Stamina mode (starting with 100 HP) rather than percent damage.

Well, two stocks now, in the prince’s case.

Gasping, panting, fully clothed once again, and rubbing the back of his hips with a horrified expression, Marth descended on the respawning platform, but hesitated for quite a while before jumping down. What was that creature, and how had it managed to reduce his HP down to zero so quickly?! And he still didn’t know what it even looked like…

He raised his sword (thankfully now back on his person) and glared at the bushes. “Where are you?” he called out, trying to hide the quiver in his voice. “Stop hiding and fight fairly!”

The bushes rustled again, and a hissing noise like an angry cat could be heard. Marth was about to move forward and stab with the Falchion, but then he remembered that it had ambushed and mauled him to kingdom come the last time. He had to be prepared this time around.

Luckily, an Unira happened to land behind him at that precise moment. As quick as he could, he turned and bent over to pick it up. Unfortunately, he wasn’t fast enough.

The second he’d stooped, the creature pounced again. Marth barely had time to realize his mistake before it sank six huge hooked claws into both buttocks at once.

“OOOWWWWCH! W-WHAT THE–!”

He’d luckily managed to pick up the Unira, and blindly threw it over his shoulder. It conked the unseen creature in the head and, with a shriek of pain, it pulled away from him, its claws tearing off the seat of his pants with a great ripping sound. Ignoring the solid white breeches now visible behind the hole in his clothing, Marth whirled and readied his sword - only to gasp in alarm at what was before him.

The massive bird-like creature was as tall as he was, and instead of feathers it had scales like a lizard or crocodile, orange in color with a white underside and black stripes edged with white. It had neither wings nor beak, instead having a pair of long gangly arms with three clawed fingers each and a lizard-like head that snapped its jaws fiercely, revealing two rows of razor-sharp teeth. On each of its feet was a massive sickle-shaped talon, held off the ground. Completing its terrible visage, only a crest of white feathers ran down the back of its neck, flaring out as it stared down the prince with blood-red snake-like eyes, hell-bent on murder and nothing else more.

So, this is Talon, Marth thought grimly. A name like that must surely be a vast understatement regarding how ferocious he is… I’ll have to be careful. Very, very careful.

Still, he raised the sword as his opponent sprang forth, and lashed out with a Shield Breaker directed at the creature’s chest.

The dromaeosaur was clever, though. The moment he saw Marth readying his attack, he jumped, clearing his head with a single great bound, the tips of his toe claws barely missing his handsome dark blue hair. He landed behind the prince with a THUMP, and just as Marth turned around, he reared up, arms raised, and started spinning furiously in a manner not unlike Donkey Kong over a bottomless pit.

Alas, Marth wasn’t fast enough to block the Frantic Fury, which seized and started buzz-sawing him violently, shredding the front of his tunic as he cried out in surprise and pain. If it hadn’t been for all fighters only taking percentage or HP damage from attacks, he mused in horror, he would have been killed within seconds, such was Talon’s brutality. One final slashing uppercut, and Marth was sent flying upwards and safely away from the dinosaur.

Sadly, he’d forgotten about the Unira. At least, until he came down rump-first right on top of it.

SHKKKK!

75 HP went down to 60 as Marth’s eyes widened in horror, and then one of his hands flew down to his backside, which had just been impaled by a dozen razor-sharp, yard-long spines–

“YYYYYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!”

Hurtling through the air with a blood-curdling scream of pain, he nearly dropped his sword as he clutched his soft buttocks with both hands (well, one hand and one clenched fist, anyway) while kicking his booted feet in pure agony. Such was the pain that he barely had time to register the sight of Talon leaping towards him, claws extended, but just in the nick of time he managed to intercept, whirling around in mid-air and clotheslining the raptor with the blade of the Falchion.

There was a satisfying shriek of Talon being sent hurtling away from him, followed by an even louder one when he landed flat on his back on top of the Unira and was spiked up and away before vaporizing in a burst of light and sparkles. It was almost worth the sensation of landing butt-first on the hard ground. With a groan of pain, Marth stood up and turned to face the saurian God of Survival, who had actually lost the last of his HP and jumped down from his respawn platform. The Unira, having spent long enough on the ground, was blipping out of existence now, so at least there was no risk of sitting on it a second time, but a Smart Bomb landed in front of Marth a moment later, and he picked it up in the hopes of using it.

The prince of Altea was at two stocks and 60 HP now, his rival at two stocks and a full 100 HP. That was concerning, but he’d turned around more desperate scenarios before. He just needed to sweetspot the tip of his–

Talon didn’t give him that chance. The second his path to Marth was clear he sprang forth, preparing to sink his teeth into the prince’s face.

But Marth was also clever. He sidestepped just in time for the raptor’s fangs to snap shut on thin air, and then swung his sword out with a shout of “MY TURN!” The Counter struck home and sent Talon hurtling backward, cutting his HP down to 60, and Marth followed up by rushing forth and unleashing a Dancing Blade at the dromaeosaur’s soft underbelly. Talon was now at 35 HP, and if only Marth could press the assault…

There was a CLUNK of something landing behind Marth, the unmistakable noise of an Assist Trophy appearing. Talon’s eyes widened, and he rushed forward with a screech of primal rage, determined to get the trophy before Marth could. The prince barely had a chance to react before he leaped into the air, and before Marth could turn to run for said trophy as well, the Pounce and Flip struck home.

SLASH! RIPPP!

“EEEEYYYYEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRGGGHHH!”

Marth shrieked once again as his pants were destroyed a second time, realizing to his horror that Talon had torn them clean off, barely missing his crotch with his enormous toe claws. It was only an instant later when the dinosaur god flipped himself upward, forcing his upper body forward, and double-kicked him on the back of the head, causing his face to slam into the concrete floor once again and form a miniscule crater. The Smart Bomb flew out of Marth’s hands in the process and skidded to a halt somewhere behind him - and next to the Assist Trophy, for that matter.

“MMMMGGMGHGGGGFFFFF!” Marth’s yells were muffled by the ground, but it was quite clear that he was thinking, Not AGAIN!

He was still struggling to unbury himself when Talon had grabbed the Assist Trophy and smashed it against the ground. An instant later, however, a shadow loomed over him, and he looked up just in time for the creature he had summoned to smash an appendage against the Smart Bomb, which exploded and took away the raptor’s second stock by sending him into the blast zone.

Not that his foe could have noticed, being embedded head-first into the concrete. Said concrete now started to tremble under the impact of enormous hooves, belonging to something massive and none too friendly no doubt tromping its way towards him. Once again, Marth planted his feet and hands on the ground and tried to pull his head loose, but to no avail.

The creature coming up from behind the thoroughly stuck prince was indeed gigantic, covered in brown and tan scales and plates with a tremendously bulky body, a back bristling with spines, and a long clubbed tail. Its head, lowered as it charged, resembled that of a horned dinosaur like a Triceratops, with a spiked bony frill and a single rhinoceros-like horn protruding from its snout, as long as a man was tall and wickedly sharp. Said nose horn was now directed at the exact center of its struggling target’s upturned posterior, and despite its immense girth, its aim was as precise as an archer’s arrow, as poor Marth learned only seconds later.

GRRROOOOOAAARRRR! SHLLKKK-POP!

“AAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!”

Screaming at an octave higher than normal, Marth found himself hooked by a place where the sun didn’t shine and hoisted into the air, Armadon continuing to stampede across the stage without a care as the Falchion clattered the ground behind him. That terrible horn had speared the prince’s backside like a piece of meat on a spit - punching straight through his undershorts, forcing itself into a certain orifice he did NOT want to talk about, and sinking its razor-sharp tip into the most sensitive, untouched part of his anatomy. Worse yet, his entire weight was drawing him down onto said horn, and with each shuddering impact of the behemoth’s footsteps, the vibration caused it to sink even deeper still into his impaled derrière!

Howling in mortal anguish, Marth grabbed the horn with both hands and tried to pull himself free, every muscle in his body straining in sheer desperation. His misery ended an instant later, however, when he got carried past the bushes on the far side of the stage and straight into the blast zone, where he was obliterated with a final yell and a flash of colorful light.

As his third and final respawn platform descended, Marth silently mused in utter misery that he wouldn’t be able to sit for days after this. A burning flame welled up in his heart at the thought, and defeating Talon was now his first and only priority. He leaped down from the platform and back onto the stage… failing to realize until much too late that Armadon was still active.

As a result, he landed right on top of the God of Life’s horn. Rear-first, of course.

SHUNK!

“EEEEEEEYYYIIIIIIEEEEEEEOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWTCCCHHHH!!!”

Armadon bellowed with nothing short of atomic fury, and tossed his head upward, sending Marth hurtling into the air in a flailing, shrieking ball of limbs and torn linens. The Falchion slipping from his grasp again as he somersaulted in mid-air involuntarily, he had no defense as Talon leaped upward towards him, his sickle claws aimed at both lower cheeks at once.

SHRRIPPP!

“AAAUURRRRRGGGGHHHH!”

This up-special was normally called the Brain Bash, due to the grisly effects if it hit the opponent’s head, but Talon had torn into his rear end instead, which was very, very lucky. Talon kicked upwards with both feet and launched himself even higher, sending Marth hurtling into the ground where he landed flat on his face, his pants ripped clean off again.

Stunned and winded, Marth had no time to react before Armadon’s mighty four-hooved foot came down on top of him with a tremendous WHUMP!!

It’s times like this, the prince thought miserably, now sprawled in the center of a foot-shaped crater, when I’m glad these matches run on fighting game physics.

Talon landed gracefully right behind Marth and, deciding to salt the wound by employing his down-special. Planting one foot against Marth’s back, he enacted the dreaded Jugular Bite, which would normally be lethal if directed at the neck as intended, but as it was, he sank his teeth into the middle of Marth’s backside with a loud SNAP and started tugging.

“OOOWWWWWWWCCCCHHH! LET GO! LET GOOOOO!!!”

Howling and struggling to escape his buried state, Marth realized a second too late that Armadon was coming back for a third charge. Worse yet, Talon had now torn off the seat of the swordsman’s underpants as well, exposing his bare buttocks for him to enjoy, and now his eyes were glowing with radiant light…

He couldn’t tell what happened next. All he knew was that Armadon had bellowed with rage once more and charged, and Talon had yanked him out of the crater and tossed him into the air with his fangs. He was now in a primordial wasteland of some kind, and all kinds of prehistoric creatures, including the two he’d faced, were engaging in a tremendous battle all around him.

Poor Marth couldn’t even muster the breath left to scream before he got swept up in the battle that was Talon’s Final Smash: Gods of Urth.

SQUELCH! Blizzard’s foot squished Marth flat into the ground as before.

THWACK! Vertigo’s tail sent him flying into the air.

SHNNK! Armadon’s horn skewered him in the rump yet again.

SHRRIPPP! Talons’ teeth ripped Marth’s cape clean off.

SPLUT! Chaos splattered him against a mud puddle - or what he hoped was a mud puddle - ruining his clothes and hair.

FWOOSH! Diablo’s fire breath, able to blast worshippers to ash, singed off a good portion of his dirtied clothes and roasted his backside quite painfully.

And finally, Sauron opened his tremendous mouth as Marth let out a wordless scream of terror…

SNAP! RIP! CHOMP! CRUNCH!

“YYYYIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUWWWWWWWTCCCCHHH!!”

Marth hurtled into the air, and fell back onto the stage with teeth marks covering his bottom. He belly-flopped onto the concrete with a loud SMACK, right next to his sword which simply lay there on the platform. Talon, meanwhile, landed once again in front of him, a confident smirk gracing his reptilian maw. He was still at a full 100 HP, while Marth… had just 0.1 HP left.

The God of Survival looked down at his prey, his razor-sharp teeth bared as though to make sure that they’d be the last thing the man would ever see.

Marth lifted his head to stare up at him.

And only then did Talon see the glow of power in his opponent’s eyes.

Before the dromaeosaur could react, Marth grabbed the Falchion, and as an HP gauge appeared over the saurian deity, Talon could only watch in total shock as the Critical Hit slammed into him at point-blank range.

“GAME!”

Sadly, despite the hard-earned turnaround, Marth couldn’t even muster the energy to strike a pose. He just sank to his knees, his sword clattering to the ground one last time, and then fell face-first onto the ground in a dead faint, his bright red mangled rump plainly visible and the rest of him in shambles.

There was no victory against the God of Survival. There was just survival itself.

**********

Talon stopped clapping after a few seconds, realizing that the one who had defeated him in such a surprise turnaround and earned his respect was in no state to do anything at all. He wasn’t fond of people, but this poor fighter needed help, and whatever his species, the raptor god couldn’t stand seeing him just lying there, unable to move a muscle.

Stepping up to the unconscious body, he knelt down and sniffed his hair. Eww. Maybe he could get him to the nearest body of water to wash off after he got him checked over?

Gently picking up his fallen rival by the collar, Talon hauled him away, remembering where to go thanks to what Master Hand had told him and what he’d seen on the maps of this strange place he was staying in. It was only about five minutes of hauling him along before he found himself in the infirmary waiting room, the bruised and sullied prince of Altea with a backside as red as a Maxim Tomato lying unconscious at his feet.

It didn’t take long for Dr. Mario to notice, and once he opened the door to his ward and saw who was waiting outside, his jaw nearly hit the floor. “AGAIN?!”

Talon barked an apologetic affirmative and nudged one of Marth’s butt cheeks with his snout. The swordsman moaned in pain, but didn’t wake.

Dr. Mario looked first at Talon, then at Marth, then at Talon again, his expression simultaneously horrified and exasperated. Finally, he buried his face in both gloved hands with a deep, tired sigh.

“Mamma mia,” he muttered sourly, mentally preparing once more to get to work. “These-a newcomer tryouts are-a gonna be the death of-a me, I swear…”