The Inter-Dimensional Courtship of Bowser Koopa

Chapter Four:
Fair in War and Love.

The koopa king could see the encampment easily from his hilltop. The dull orange tents mismatched with the small patch of forest in which they hid. A few infantry units scurried about wearing uniforms the same color as the their shelters. The tricky part, he knew, would be getting in without eliciting a hostile response. These were, for the third time on his quest, humans he would be dealing with, and he was all out of arrows.

Bowser sauntered down the steep hillside towards the camp. If push can to shove, he reasoned he could shove back hard enough. They were less than ten strong, after all.

A grass field law between him and the grove, about three miles by estimate. Greenish yellow blades of grass came to just above his waist. It was easy stuff to push through, but took a little effort nonetheless.

The day was clear and sultry. Humidity seemed to rob oxygen from his every breath, making him feel worn out. It was afternoon, the sun’s heat gathered in full. Bowser thanked his fortunes that koopas were not cold blooded. Sounds of approaching motors snatched him back to reality.

They originated from behind him, coming over an empty plain that stretched for miles at his back. How he had not spotted them earlier while on a higher elevation he did not know. They were making obvious haste, and closing in. Swirling around to see what was coming revealed thin trails of black exhaust rising from a few miles away.

The koopa king hunkered low in the growth, hoping to leave no visible trace of his orange hair and horns. Through the swaying grass leaves he could still see for half a mile. He waited for a glimpse of the oncoming machines.

Five tanks rolled into his view. Painted the same color of black exhaust, each one wielded a single cannon on a tort, round turret. On top of these turrets reclined humans wearing opaque helmets and jumpsuits. The faceless troops each held a kind of weapon Bowser had never seen before. It looked to be two small barrels attached to a box, a targeting sight, and handlebars. They had to be projectile weapons, small shots, he surmised. The barrels on the main weapon were as large as the ones he had equipped on his own tanks and airships, though the vehicles themselves were smaller. These had been built for speed and maneuverability.

Pit had written of an “Orange Star Army” which his mission objective served. An ebony panzer unit presented him with a dilemma. If these troops, obviously from a different tribe as the Orange Stars, meant to engage the other in battle they could easily overwhelm the few infantry up ahead. Bowser could not allow that to happen. If, on the other hand, they were allies, attacking would place him at odds with the one person he needed on his side.

The first of the five tanks rolled past, the rumbling of its engine a pounding in his ears.

Then the second.

With no time to scheme, the koopa king could think of only one obvious solution. He would ask.

The third and fourth tanks passed close by, engines purring loudly. It was the trailing tank he desired, but saw it was set to speed by him fifteen feet away. As soon as the latter two vehicles had left his sides Bowser broke cover and sprinted towards the last tank. The grass parted unwillingly. It did not help that his fastest run was, at best, a thrashing lurch. Pushing feet off the earth with all his stamina, he bared his fangs and hoped his momentum was adequate.

Black paint glinted with white sunlight as it cut across Bowser’s trajectory, still eight feet away. With a guttural cry he careened headfirst, claws outstretched.

A heavy THWACK was the first thing that let Bowser know he had made it. The frenzied clawing required to remain on the back end of the tank was the second. His face hung over the bumper. The ground rolled away in blurring green lines behind the treads. They were moving too fast to catch up if he had kissed the dirt.

Wasting no more time, the koopa king rotated around on his belly to face the soldier on the turret. The anonymous human held a hand cannon, leveled just inches from Bowser’s forehead.

For what felt like an hour the two beings remained as stone, the ground plowed beneath metal treads.

Bowser pounced. The soldier’s finger squeezed the trigger.

Too late for the human, the gun fired uselessly into the atmosphere. Bowser’s hand jerked the gun arm to the side, and now beat it against the turret’s edge till the gun dropped. His other hand spread across the top of the shaded helmet and brought it down in a tight arc onto the metal surface. The visor cracked and pitted inward but held.

“Tell me. And don’t lie. Your survival depends on it. Are the Orange Star your allies?” the koopa barked, eyes glistening.

No reply. Bowser’s face contorted in anger as he smashed the helmet down again. “Tell me.”

Not so much as a whisper came from the soldier who now started to struggle. Two more swift face plants halted the squirming.

“One more time and that visor of yours is through. Tell me what I want to know or I chew off your face right here and now in front of all your helpless buddies. Is Orange Star your enemy? Tell me!” Both paws gripped the helmet left and right. His snout dibbled mucus.

From behind a newly concave visor crisscrossed with white fractures a murmuring voice replied. “They are our enemy. Orange Star and the others will all die, so is the will of Sturm, our-“

Bowser pulled the soldier from the entrance hatch, and tossed him to the retreating field. “Enough. I don’t care about the rest.”

A quick scan of the four remaining tanks revealed no signs that any had witnessed the event. The koopa made a small hop into the tank. Entering ass first, in a posture that increased his velocity, he crushed the tank’s driver that had been waiting to kill him. The body made the sound of a ripe melon being sledge hammered.

The tank had been built for two human operators, so it was no surprise to the koopa that it barely held him. The main cannon, he saw, could be loaded by pulling back a bolt, opening the breech. Doing so revealed a shell already loaded. With the press of a backlit white button the loader would close, the shell ready to fire. Straining around the rotating driver’s seat, he found a single display screen, a steering wheel, and gearshifts.

Using one hand, he yanked the wheel in the direction of the two closest tanks. Bowser trained the targeting reticle on the further of the two, the tank to his right. Servos whirred as an unseen computer calculated the trajectory and distance. The notion of automatic targeting and no-fuss aiming filled him with a childlike glee. The circular targeting reticle glowed crimson. Locked on.

The koopa king found the button marked “Fire.” It too, glowed red. He pressed it.

PWAAAAA! The sliding cannon barrel shoved back onto itself, absorbing the recoil. The projectile moved too quickly for Bowser to see. The tank disappeared in a cloud of black smoke. Pieces of segmented metal and scrap launched in all directions. A remaining half of the tank continued forward, careening into its neighbor. The sound of metal clapping produced a single, sharp, entrancing note. The koopa roared, feeling turned on. He scooped up another shell, pulled back the oiled bolt loader, and cocked the next shot by pressing the white button. Every other soldier in the area had to know about his attack by now. He guessed it would be two minutes, tops, before the others could do anything about it.

The video display showed the tank that had been struck by the wreckage of its brother. The vehicle of war began to stir. In a few seconds it backed out of the billowing black smoke, tilting into a u-turn. Bowser let the computer do its work. It took five seconds.

“POW.”

The tank had been in mid-turn when the shell hit. A blow straight to its side reduced the chassis to a plume of twisted metal and fire. Two columns of thick, black smoke intersected the horizon.

Bowser pumped his fist in victory, face glued to the visual output. No sign of the other two tanks. He engaged the brakes, one of two floor pedals, stopping next to the snarled wreckage in hopes the smoke would hide him long enough to prepare the next assault.

Still no sight of the others. Bowser sucked in his breath and held it. Turning, he reached to the loader. The bolt slid back with ease, ejecting the second spend casing. Tendrils of gray smoke floated free, the smell of burnt accelerants reminding him of home. The koopa brought a fresh shell up to the opening.

Something struck the side of his tank. His world rocked, and then turned white to black.

An entire percussion orchestra struck their drums at once.

Minutes passed, or what felt like minutes. The koopa was lying on his back, attempting to replace the breath knocked out of him. Smoke was making it difficult. This time it smelled of burning rubber, a scent that made his eyes water.

The shock and suddenness of the explosion began to fade, allowing the koopa king to move once more. Getting off his back proved more difficult than usual. Grabbing a support, he couldn’t see for the smoke, he hoisted himself onto his feet. Emergency lighting revealed a cannon loader twisted and bent, glanced by a piece of the incoming shell itself. Part of the opposite wall was missing. That left only one option. Escape on foot.

Bowser pulled himself up what was left of the entrance port, glad to breath clear air. The percussion orchestra continued to chime myriad high-pitched bells in his ears. He gasped, his limbs felt like water. Rolling to the ground, he remained on hands and feet, trying to will his body to remain in motion.

Forsaking dignity for survival, the koopa crawled his way forward. His direction was a mere guess. The grass blocked his sight, but would hide him until it was safe to stand up—possible to stand up. Through the ringing he could hear what sounded like firecrackers. And shouting. Was it too late? He wondered how things had gotten so far off course.

Nausea boiled his stomach, urging him to vomit. There was not much to it, only a little bitter fluid and saliva. Feeling a little better, he padded through the grass. The faint commotion grew louder as he neared, ears clearing. Curiosity, and her close sister worry, both urged for a look over the grass. Without so much as his knees popping, Bowser stood up silently.

Ten yards away stood the black tank.

The turret twitched, finishing the final adjustments of locking on to the koopa king. Bowser wanted to move, to strafe aside. His body would not obey. In another second the cannon would fire and he would be splattered into red mist, his remains set aflame in the trampled growth. POW. Too late for everything.

A breeze tousled the grass blades, sending them to dancing in ripples. Rays from the orange sun above radiated its brilliant heat. The earth rotated as it always had. Bowser felt none of it.

The tank exploded. Clogs of mud and clouds of dust flew upwards, carried south by the swift breeze. The tank’s frame shuttered, its engine releasing a death rattle.

Soldiers approached from the right of the tanks, some yards off. They wore orange fatigues and matching helmets. Shoulder rocket launchers were carried by each of the unit. Five humans in all.

Shadows crept into the koopa’s field of vision, coalescing on the peripheral. His head felt like it was turning into nothingness. Sinking to his knees, the king growled to himself. Fainting was an act of weakness beneath a koopa leader. Even though he had had to face his own mortality several times that day, Bowser would not shame himself.

The human infantry surrounded Bowser, eyes wide. One of the larger ones stepped forward, pointing the long, thin barrel of some unknown gun at him. “What the hell are you?” he asked. His voice contained fear masked with practiced authority.

“An ally. Take me to your leader.” Bowser said.

The humans started. One almost tripped backwards, pitching himself forward to stay afoot.

“B-But. I’m not gonna-“

“I’m weary and in no mood for debate. Don’t be an ass. I’ll answer everything once I’m settled, and only to your leader.” The koopa gave the man a sidelong glare.

The soldier looked to his teammates, mouth partly open, hesitating to ask for advice.

“You’re making me mad. Look. If I meant any harm, would I’ve attacked your ambushing foes? Would I let you get away with treating royalty like this? Cut the act.”

“Yes. C-Come with me.” The soldier pointed towards the tents posted in the grove. Bowser let the unit escort him to the camp of his new allies.

On the slow walk in the koopa saw the forerunning tank’s fate. Destroyed just like the one that had almost killed him. This one had hurried on to the camp. The ambush had been blown by then, the soldiers had waited with anti-tank rockets. Covered by the trees, there had been no causalities.

There, in the middle of the camp, stood his objective. Her name was Sami, according to Pit. A commanding officer, she stood roughly five feet, eight inches high. Her outfit was similar to the Mary’s: army boots, dull green slacks, a white tank top trimmed high to show off her belly. A bandanna matching the color of her pants was wrapped high around her forehead. Her hair was orange-brown and short. She was fit all over. Even so, her stomach held onto a firm curve instead of a six-pack.

“You helped us,” she said. The soldiers crowded the koopa king, faces clear, arms more steady. It seemed to him that the humans grew bold around Sami. “Who are you, why are you here? And why did you help us? Which Army do you serve?”

“You are Sami?”

“Yes.” She showed no visible sign of surprise at the mention of her name.

“I am King Bowser Koopa. I serve no army here,” Bowser said.

“I might have guessed that. Go on.” The CO’s hands settled on her waist, boot tapping.

“I aided you in battle because I needed you alive for my mission. Who I am and why I’m here I’ll tell you later. Tonight. Alone.”

At this Sami’s eyes grew beady, lips pouting in distaste. Bowser found the expression cute. “Now seems like as good a time as any. I can’t trust you alone, I-“

“C’mon! I’ve nearly been killed risking my life for you and your troops, fighting your battle! Don’t I at least deserve rest and a little trust?” Bower threw his arms into the air with an expression of exasperation. It was the routine he used on his koopalings. “I mean no harm. Besides. You wouldn’t believe where I come from if I told you. I’ve come to offer you help, but I won’t say how until tonight.”

Sami shrugged. Closing her eyes, she turned away. Gesturing towards a tent with one arm, she barked her commands. “Let him rest in that one. Bring him rations. I’ll see you at twenty three hundred tonight. Saving your butt had better be worth it.” The CO walked towards her own tent flanked by two soldiers.

Bowser was quickly led to the appointed tent. Inside there were a few bedrolls and a faint smell of mildew, one that made him homesick. He spread out three rolls side-by-side and fell asleep lying on his belly. Just a day earlier in his life, the idea of sleeping with armed humans around would have given him pause.

+++

The koopa opened his sticky eyelids after what had been heavy sleep. He was surprised that the orange canvas still glowed strongly with sunlight. His bladder was buzzing in protest, his throat complained the opposite. A two-gallon plastic jug of water and a pile of what looked like dried meat was lying just inside the entrance. He ignored the provisions at first, brushing aside the tent flap and exiting. One sentry remained outside, watching him through narrowed eyelids. Bowser looked over his shoulder to make sure the guard wasn’t following him to trees behind his quarters. Grinning, the koopa took his long leak. Looking down at his semi-erect shaft, his grin was replaced by a more thoughtful frown. Seeing Sami’s less than sunny reception made fulfilling his objective look all the more unlikely. A real shame. This time things were supposed to be fun.

Returning to his quarters, Bowser sat down and finished off all the jerky and water. Feeling worlds better, he allowed sleep to take him once again, knowing no better way to wait for the night.

+++

Sami finished making arrangements with her communications officer on his nightly report. With a curt salute he left to relay her mechanized unit’s return plans and news of their strange new guest. They would be back within the Orange Star Capital roughly forty eight hours from now. What would be done about the alien, she could not fathom a guess.

That was what disquieted her more than anything about the giant turtle monster. It could speak like a human. Like an educated soldier. They didn’t know what he was, who he served, what he wanted with her tonight. Sami didn’t like not knowing, bad intelligence led to casualties.

The CO sat in a fold out chair and took a sip of water. Glancing down at the world map, the same answer kept running through her head. He wasn’t from Warsworld. He had come from some magical realm to save them all at the last minute, like the fabled dragons of old.

Sami shook her head slowly. Stupid. What would Nell think if one of her best CO’s went looking for answers in children’s tales? It was hard to imagine anything worse than the chew out already waiting for her when CO Nell found out about the enemy ambush.

There was something undeniably compelling in the looks of this ‘Bowser,’ she could not place a finger on. It felt almost like nostalgia.

The electric clock struck nine. Right on schedule, the monster arrived with his guard. Icy white light from three propane lamps cast shadows from everyone’s facial features, giving them a profound quality. “I’m still waiting for my answers. Are you ready to give them to me?”

Bowser glanced at his guard and back towards her. “Private, you are dismissed,” she said.

“Yes sir!” and he left.

“Now, let’s start with what you are.”

“A King of Koopas,” Bowser said. He stood still, breathing heavily.

“What the hell is a koopa? A monster turtle?”

“A koopa is a koopa. It’s what I am. I’ve already told you, I don’t belong to any kingdom or barony on this world.”

“We don’t have kingdoms. Only countries and armies.”

The koopa had brought up the word, “kingdom,” one that only appeared in fairy tales and history books. She found, upon a closer look, that he did indeed resemble a dragon from an illustrated children’s book. Except that he was more snapping turtle than giant lizard. “Isn’t it the same where you’re from?”

“No. And I suppose you aren’t a princess.” The koopa huffed loudly.

Sami couldn’t keep from laughing. She leaned back in her chair, feet pushing the front legs off the ground. “I suppose you’re the dragon who’s come to steal the fair maiden-princess-to-be. Come to take her off to a lonely castle somewhere gloomy and keep her there all for himself. Is that it? I’m almost in a mood to believe you if you say yes.” His face softened and eyes sparkled at these words. A nerve had been struck. She sprang forward from her chair and drew close to the hulking koopa.

“I’m a Commanding Officer. Here, in reality, that’s far better than any princess you’ll ever find, turtle monster. Militaries own and run Warsworld. That’s the way it is. Always has been for as long as anyone can remember. It’s my job to keep Orange Star safe, keep its armies winning. You helped me with that today, and I honestly thank you.”

“I’m not done. Helping you, that is.”

In some remote corner of her soul, a part of her thrilled at his statement. It urged her to listen to what he had to say. Licking her lips the CO stared steadily into the monster’s eyes. “And just what would that entail, Bowser?”

“You’re planning to become intimate with someone. You want to impress them. To make them happy and to be happy yourself. You’re a virgin who needs to be good at sex by the time you return to your capital.” Bowser reached out too late to hold Sami’s shoulder. The CO took a few stumbling steps back, her eyes wide open.

This creature had known what no one could know. He knew of her insecurity about sexuality. He knew what she planned to do back at the capital. She felt hairs stand up over her entire body in horror. Anger followed, pushing up her throat like vomit, ready to emerge in a string of insults and recriminations. You’re a freakish monster telling lies— an alien. You’ve come to my camp to fuck with my mind. Who do you think you are? I should have you shot, right now!

Like a precision bombing run the realization crashed into her memory. What she had said earlier of fairy tales made perfect sense. Sami had always felt sympathetic to the dragons in her children’s books. She thought them ancient, arcane, and rare. Rooting for the Knight in Shining Armor had never felt right. Men willing to kill things were a dime a dozen. To casually slay something so fantastic, something that brought mystery and excitement into every life it touched, could only be called sin. And here, before her now from beyond belief, was her own monster. One who was ready to take her away and solve her problem.

“I leave before we reach the capital, whether you accept my help or not. Will you let me be your first? I’ll teach you all I know,” Bowser said.

Sami planted her face in cupped hands in an effort to stop her reeling mind. “This is insane. I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Much less thinking.” She twisted away from him and plopped into her chair. “Just go back to your tent. We leave tomorrow, early. You’ll come to the capital. As our prisoner if necessary. Then we’ll figure out how to deal with you. Privates Bill and Lance,” she shouted. The guard that had lead him to Sami’s quarters arrived inside with another human. The koopa recognized private Lance as the one who had blown up the fifth tank, saving his life. “Escort the alien back to his quarters and keep him there.”

+++

As Bowser was escorted from the tent, he glanced back over his shoulder for one more look. The CO still slumped into her chair, leaning on the armrest. One hand remained clapped over her forehead, hiding her eyes from view. It made her look weary.

Getting back to his mildew laden tent, the koopa reclined onto his bedrolls. Staring at the silhouette of his guard on the moon lit tarp, his mind raced over the day’s events. The entire mission was starting to give him a headache. He had made her the offer, whether she would accept it or not was not his to decide. Would Pit demand some sort of payment if things didn’t go the way he planned? Bowser hoped not.

The koopa half closed his eyes. It just wasn’t about reaching his objective for his own sake anymore. There was something about her that pulled on his heart and made his breath shallow. She was the closest thing this world had to royalty, a trait he demanded in potential mates, but that wasn’t the half of it. Could it be that she truly desired to be taken from this world, back to share a castle with a creature such as him? Her words had the context of a jest. No. There had been an ache in her tone, he could swear by it.

Sleep came too quickly to worry about it anymore. Two times that night troubling dreams woke him, their imaged all too familiar. In one, he saw his castle, hollow and musty like the shell of a long dead koopa, and just as devoid of life. In the other he met Princess Peach, caressing her pent up breasts, her face demure the whole while. With a wink and a blown kiss, she would turn from him and walk away as two squat shadows pounced from dark corners.

Cast thus far:
Sami – Advanced Wars.