Mr. L and Flamethrower met up just after sunset that night to make plans. They had to find out more before another attack happened. Flamethrower suggested the exact thing he suggested the night before, which was to send Mr. L in alone, but Mr. L was quick to shut that idea down, not because he was afraid, but because he didn't see any benefits to it. This would go better with both of them, since it was clear that they were likely to be pulled into action, no matter how cautious they were. 

Mr. L wanted to come up with a more drawn-out plan, but Flamethrower didn't see the need. His exact words were, "Eh, we'll figure it out as we go," which wasn't exactly comforting. Still, Mr. L wasn't about to argue with him. He was in charge after all. Mr. L was just his sidekick.

He never was all that bothered by the term sidekick. Being the main character wasn't something he particularly wanted. Too much attention and responsibility come with it. Perhaps that was why Flamethrower never let people see him upset. There were too many eyes on him. Being the sidekick was not only easier, but he felt like it fit him better too. 

Of course, there were times when he was jealous of his brother. Who wouldn't be? But jealousy was a normal feeling, and it didn't change the fact that he knew he belonged in the sidekick role. He was certain that if Flamethrower was the sidekick and he was the main hero, he'd still be jealous. Perhaps Flamethrower was jealous of Mr. L and his "easier" job. 

Perhaps Mr. L was overthinking again. 

Overthinking is another quality that made him a better fit to be a sidekick. Heroes like Flamethrower can't overthink because they need to act quickly in order to do what's right. But sidekicks have to overthink in order to come up with ways to help their hero. They're allowed to overthink because they're not in the center of the action.

On top of that, sidekicks were expendable. 

That was the main reason Mr. L knew he was born to be the secondary character. If Flamethrower died, everything would fall apart. Mr. L could die hundreds of times and no one would bat an eye. 

Mr. L carefully led Flamethrower back to the secret base he found the other day. The streets were equally as quiet, but the heartbeat in his ears was loud.

"Well, that's quite unfortunate," Count Bleck breathed. "We can't have you going around and sharing any of this, now can we?" 

There was so much terror and dread coursing through his veins. He didn't want to die. He was terrified of dying. It hurt too much. He just wanted to go home, to curl up someplace safe and read. He couldn't show it, though. If he showed the world he was afraid, then the villains would win. He couldn't let them have that satisfaction. 

He forced himself to wear a brave face, even as the darkness swallowed him and dug its nails into his skin. He couldn't let them see what he felt, he couldn't let them know just how afraid he really was. 

"Are you okay?" Flamethrower asked.

Mr. L nodded and quickly shook the memories away, giving his brother a thumbs up, and thankfully Flamethrower didn't ask any more questions. 

Once they made it to the old abandoned factory, Mr. L led Flamethrower around the side and over to the fire escape. Since Flamethrower was so much shorter, Mr. L had to boost him up in order to reach the metal steps. Not that he minded. He followed closely behind, then pointed his brother over to the hatch on the roof. Even though he was sure he was going to be caught again, he still took caution when opening the hatch. He didn't know how he managed to be found out the last time, but a part of him hoped that he just made a dumb mistake somewhere and that it wouldn't happen again. The brothers were prepared for a fight this time, but it would be ideal not to fight at all. 

Flamethrower's steps were significantly louder than Mr. L's, not because he was heavier, but because he wasn't as used to being stealthy. Mr. L wanted to tell him to walk on his toes, but he knew that by speaking he would only be making more noise. Besides, he never corrected his older brother. (Not because Flamethrower couldn't take corrections. Mr. L just felt like it wasn't his place.)

Mr. L stopped his brother once they got to the bottom of the stairwell and back to the door Mr. L had been peering through the last time. Since Flamethrower wasn't tall enough to see out of it, Mr. L was the one to stand on his toes and look through. Surely enough, Dimentio and Count Bleck were in there. The map was laid out on a table once again. Flamethrower pressed his ear to the door, trying to listen in to what they were saying while Mr. L squinted his eyes and looked around the room for anything else noteworthy. 

There was a lot of wood, actually. More wood than he took note of earlier. Despite being in a factory, the walls and ceiling were held up by wooden beams, not metal. They looked weak as well. 

Mr. L tapped Flamethrower's shoulder and pointed up at the ceiling. 

Flamethrower nodded. 

"Got it," Flamethrower said. "Weak boards. I can easily bring those down if needed. So how are we going to-"

Suddenly the door in front of them swung open, making the two heroes fall forward. Mr. L winced slightly, but quickly pulled himself to his feet, trying to ignore his suddenly racing heart.

Don't be afraid, he told himself. Mario's here. Don't be afraid.

Neither Dimentio nor Count Bleck was standing by the door, so one of them must have used some kind of spell to open it. Flamethrower quickly got to his feet as well, then got into his classic fighting stance. "Count Bleck," he said, using his slightly deeper, serious voice. 

"Hello, heroes," Count Bleck breathed, bowing his head slightly. 

Chills ran up Mr. L's arms, but he didn't let the terror show. He instead narrowed his eyes and tightened his jaw, like always. 

"What are you planning on doing?" Flamethrower demanded. 

"Nothing you need to concern yourself with!" Dimentio added. 

"Oh, I think it is," Flamethrower hissed when a deep purple attack suddenly flew past him. He would have gotten hit if Mr. L hadn't acted quickly and pulled him aside.

Flamethrower exchanged a quick nod with his brother as if silently thanking him, then ignited two flames, one in each hand. Mr. L mentally prepared himself for what was about to go down.

Hopefully, there wouldn't be any casualties this time. Flamethrower and himself had gotten into some violent situations, but no one has ever died. (Sorta.) Heroes were good guys, and good guys didn't kill people. 

For a moment, it seemed like the two duos were locked in a silent stare-off. They kept their eyes on each other, attacks prepared to be released and fired.

"Still not talking, Mr. L?" Dimentio asked with a teasing tone. 

Mr. L clenched his fists. 

"Still powerless?" Dimentio grinned.

"Leave him be," Flamethrower hissed, suddenly shooting his fire toward the wooden beams holding the ceiling up. 

Count Bleck and Dimentio both seemed to frown at the same time.

"...His aim is really bad," Count Bleck muttered.

"I'll say. He missed us by at least ten feet," Dimentio added with a small chuckle. "I would have thought that a hero as well known as him would-"

Before the jester could finish his sentence, one of the wooden planks from the ceiling fell in front of him, flames roaring to life. Flamethrower grinned while both Count Bleck and Dimentio jumped back.

Mr. L looked up to see the flames spreading quickly across the ceiling. More and more wooden planks started falling.

It was time to leave. 

"Let's go," Flamethrower said, grasping Mr. L's arm and sprinting back the way they came. They both trusted that the villains could get out safely on their own. After all, there were multiple fire escapes that were easy to access. That and the knowledge that the factory was abandoned made the plan seem less violent. Yes, burning a building down was a bad thing, but this building held no use and if all went well, no one would be harmed. Sometimes, heroes needed to do a bad thing in order to save people in the future. It's easy to make good decisions. What's hard is making bad decisions for the greater good. 

Mr. L and Flamethrower ran up the stairwell and out to the roof, then quickly took the fire escape down until they were safely on the ground. They were about to take off running when they saw Count Bleck suddenly appear by the front door.

"DIMENTIO!" he yelled, his voice louder and filled with more emotion than Mr. L had ever heard from him. 

Mr. L suddenly stopped running, furrowing his eyebrows as the Count placed his left hand over his mouth and used his right hand to knock on the front door. "DIMENTIO, COME ON!"

"Let's go!" Flamethrower urged. "We have to get out of here before-"

Mr. L dug his heels into the ground and stopped. He waited for a moment, then sprinted over to Count Bleck, who seemed to be getting more and more panicked. 

The Count didn't run or fight as he saw Mr. L approach. It was like all of that hero-villain rivalry didn't matter anymore. "He can't teleport when he's panicked," Count Bleck breathed, his voice shaking. "And I can't teleport multiple people at once!"

The third-person talk was gone.

Mr. L looked back and forth from the count to the door, then nodded. He re-adjusted his hat, then pushed the front doors open, sprinting into the burning building. The last thing he could hear from the outside was Flamethrower's voice, saying, "Wait! Mr. L!"

He ignored the fear. He ignored the familiar feeling the heat surrounding him gave him. He ignored the bright orange flames spreading faster and faster because he was not about to let someone die. He was not about to let his brother become a murderer. 

He ran through a few different hallways, checking different rooms until he found the same room he saw before. Because this was where the flames were sparked, there was more fire, more heat. 

And sitting in the center of it all was Dimentio. Planks continued to fall all around the jester as he sat on the ground, hugging his knees and keeping his head low. Mr. L had never seen a villain look so terrified. So human. 

Dimentio looked up at him, having heard his footsteps. There were tears in his eyes. Real tears. 

He was just as afraid of dying as Mr. L was.

"Mr. L?" he asked, his voice much smaller than normal.

Mr. L nodded, then ran over to him, helping him up to his feet. He then grasped Dimentio's hand and started running as fast as he could, ducking and dodging as flaming planks continued to fall.

He could make it. There weren't going to be any casualties. He wasn't going to let anyone die that night. 

He knew he was getting closer when he heard both Flamethrower and Count Bleck calling both their names. 

The flames grew larger and hungrier, but he didn't let them stop him. He didn't let the hardly breathable air or the intense heat slow him down. 

Flamethrower and Count Bleck were holding the front door open. The night sky looked like a beacon of safety, a beacon of coolness as he ran closer and closer until he was only a few feet away.

Then, there was a loud cracking sound before him.

Mr. L's eyes briefly glanced above him.

A large beam of wood was falling, covered in fire. 

He had less than a second to react. 

He quickly shoved Dimentio in front of him and pushed him outside. 

Everything seemed to move in slow motion as Dimentio tripped through the doorway, over to safety. 

A brief wave of relief washed over Mr. L as the wooden beam suddenly crushed him.

The last thing he heard was not Flamethrower's voice, not Count Bleck's voice, it wasn't even the crackling of the flames. 

It's a quiet, barely audible gasp. Then, it was dark.