Henri was quiet the next morning when Luigi stopped by the bakery to pick up his morning muffin. As Luigi sat across from him, he didn't speak. He looked at Luigi, but he wasn't looking at Luigi. He was looking through him. His visible eye looked slightly red and there was a dark circle around it.

Luigi wanted to ask him what was wrong, but he also didn't want to overstep his boundaries. 

"Do you think it's selfish to die?" Henri suddenly asked.

Luigi shrugged, not really having mentally prepared for another conversation regarding mortality.

"Um... well everyone does it," Luigi pointed out. "So no. Not really..."

"Yeah..." Henri muttered, looking down.

"Are you alright?" Luigi asked.

"Yeah," Henri repeated, though it was clear he was lying. He looked terrible. And exhausted. He looked the way Luigi felt most of the time. (Though he was feeling less and less exhausted lately. It was probably the blueberry muffins.)

Luigi nodded, then looked down at his muffin as well.

"Does it matter? I just need you to stop! Please!" Dimentio begged.

"I won't." 

"Please?!"

"No."

"Why are you being so difficult?!" Dimentio had exclaimed. "Your brother can keep the city safe on his own!"

"I know."

Luigi frowned and shook his head, trying to push the memories away. The entire interaction that night was so different from any other experience he had with villains. So puzzling as well. He did get some of the answers he needed, but he could barely even focus on them or ask questions about them.

"Henri..." he muttered.

"Hmm?"

"Do you think Flamethrower could keep the city safe on his own?" he asked. "Without Mr. L, I mean?"

Henri blinked twice, then his eye seemed to focus. Finally, he was looking at Luigi, and not through him.

"What?"

"I mean, the other day when The Phantom attacked, it was Flamethrower who saved you, right?" Luigi pointed out. 

"....Right," Henri breathed, looking back down. "Honestly... he probably could."

Luigi let out a slightly disappointed sigh, though he honestly wasn't expecting any other answer. Flamethrower was the main hero. He was stronger. He had powers that people actually knew about. 

"But," Henri continued. "It wouldn't be the same. I mean... sure, Flamethrower could probably make it work, but I doubt he would. He needs Mr. L. The city needs Mr. L. He's not just the sidekick, he's the smart one. Even if he's not in the public eye as much, he's just as important. I think... if something bad happened to him, everything would fall apart."

Luigi raised his eyebrows. "Really?"

"Yeah," Henri said, and a hint of a smile swept across his face.  "It's kinda like how I feel about you. Sure, you're not famous and the news doesn't report about you, but you're still important. You're still a hero to me. Even if you get scared sometimes. I think... anyone who claims Mr. L isn't a hero and that his brother could do it all without him must just be upset and desperate."

"Right," Luigi muttered, thinking back to Dimentio. 

He did seem rather desperate, though it was still unclear why. He acted like he knew about Mr. L's power, but that was impossible because no one ever remembered when he died. And if Dimentio somehow did remember, then why would he care? Most of the recent deaths were indirectly his own fault. 

"He's important," Henri repeated, snapping Luigi out of his thoughts. "To a lot of people. More people than he thinks. Just like you are."

Luigi slowly smiled at him, then shrugged. Even if Henri didn't know what was really going on in his crazy life, he felt like he needed to hear that. It was nice. It almost felt like Henri understood.

"You're important too," Luigi smiled.

. . .

That night, Daisy apparently got a tip that something big was going down on top of the mayor's skyscraper once again, so Flamethrower and Mr. L were called to the scene as soon as the sun set. It was the night before the big election, so the security around the building was at its maximum.

"Say, if the count guy and the jester can teleport, then why don't they just teleport inside?" Flamethrower muttered as Peach lowered the two of them onto the roof of the tower. "I mean, wouldn't that be easier?"

Mr. L shrugged in response. They probably just wanted to make a scene. That was something most supervillains had in common. They were all desperate for attention. They liked putting on shows. What was the point of being evil if no one knew who they were? Common criminals were arrested every day without a second thought, but supervillains were remembered. 

"We just like drawing attention to ourselves," Dimentio answered, appearing behind the duo with a chime as soon as the helicopter flew off. Both Flamethrower and Mr. L quickly whirled around to see both Count Bleck and Dimentio, standing with their magical attacks at the ready. 

Mr. L didn't tell Flamethrower about any of the stuff he learned from Dimentio the other night, (firstly because he wasn't sure what was and wasn't true, and secondly because he didn't want his older brother knowing he snuck out four nights in a row to do his own investigating. As far as Mario was aware, Luigi was catching up on sleep during those nights.)

"This is the end of the line, Count Bleck," Flamethrower stated, igniting a small fire in his right hand. Mr. L didn't pay attention to him, though. Instead, his eyes were on Dimentio, analyzing. Did Dimentio really remember what happened the night before, or did he forget, just like everyone else always did? If he did remember, he certainly didn't show it. All the desperation he exhibited the night before had completely vanished, leaving behind nothing more than a villain. A villain Flamethrower and Mr. L had to stop.

Mr. L knew Daisy was waiting at the bottom of the tower with her cameras pointed up toward the battle. The city was watching. The city was waiting for them to save the day.

Mr. L always hated rooftop confrontations because there was always the risk of falling to his death. He fell to his death a few times before, and frankly, the worst part wasn't the moment he hit the ground, but rather the time spent falling, waiting for the sudden impact. On top of that, a part of Mr. L had always been slightly fearful of heights. Once he heard someone say there was a difference between a fear of heights and a fear of falling, but they felt pretty similar to him. 

Count Bleck gripped his staff and teleported behind Flamethrower, swinging the blue gem for his skull. If it wasn't for Mr. L's quick thinking, Flamethrower would have at least been knocked unconscious. Luckily, Mr. L was quick to grasp his brother's shoulder and force him to duck.

And the fight had begun. Dark masses of magic and red flames of rage flew across the rooftop as the air was filled with the constant chiming of teleportation. It was all so overwhelming. Too much was happening. It felt like that video game Luigi used to play with Mario during college. The one with the Cup brothers who shot bullets at the bosses while way too much happened on screen. (On his first playthrough, he beat the entire game in one week. He died a total of 332 times, which wasn't some kind of record, but man, was he proud of it.)

There was a chime behind him, and Mr. L ducked before Dimentio could grab him. He quickly spun around and faced the jester, wearing an empty expression.

"You just couldn't stay away, could you?" Dimentio asked, and a part of Mr. L was relieved because this confirmed that he did remember.

How though?

"Did you think I would?" Mr. L asked.

"No," Dimentio admitted. "You heroes never do."

Dimentio suddenly grabbed him from behind, which was surprising, because Dimentio was still standing in front of him. Mr. L had to give himself a second to process that somehow, there were two Dimentios. For a moment, he silently wondered if he just had a secret twin all this time, but that theory was debunked when the Dimentio in front of him disappeared and the real Dimentio said, "Clones, Mr. L. They're clones," as if answering his thoughts. 

They both ducked to avoid a fireball that flew across the roof, then Mr. L quickly turned around, once again aiming for the mask. It almost felt like he was back to the moment when they first met. Back then, he made the plan to aim for the mask, because the last thing a villain or a hero ever wanted was for their secret identity to be revealed. 

He missed, though, just as he did before. Dimentio stepped aside and Mr. L stumbled forward, tripping over his feet. He wasn't even aware of how close they were to the ledge.

He was too close to the ledge. If his mind was alert as it usually was, he would have taken notice earlier and moved to a safer place. 

He was too close.

He slipped. 

In front of him, he could see all the people gathered at the base of the tower.

He began to fall.  Because of course, something like this would happen. 

He allowed himself a brief moment of terror, then let it pass because things like this happened too often for him to still be afraid. The terror was quickly replaced with acceptance as the air seemed to push past him. If it wasn't for the dropping sensation, he might have been able to convince himself that he was flying. There was a time when he and Mario were teenagers and they went indoor skydiving. It was actually shocking how close indoor skydiving felt to falling from great heights. 

He closed his eyes because he didn't want to watch as the ground came closer. He didn't want to see the terrified expression on all the civilians' faces as one of their heroes met his demise. 

He thought of Henri. What if Henri was down there with them, watching? Would he wear the same look of terror he wore when he saw Mr. L killed right before his very eyes in the bakery? Would he cry? What would he say if he knew who Mr. L really was? Would he feel betrayed, happy, or confused? 

None of that mattered, because no one would remember. He'd wake up tomorrow morning and everyone will have forgotten, (besides Dimentio, apparently. Mr. L still had some questions about that, but he'd have to find out another time.)

He allowed himself to accept that he was doomed to die once again when something suddenly stopped him. 

For a moment, he thought that he must have just died so quickly that his body didn't even have time to register the pain. Then, his attention was brought to the tight (almost painful) grip around his wrist.

Mr. L furrowed his eyebrows, then looked up to see Dimentio, leaning over the edge and grasping his arm tightly. His eyes were pressed shut and his jaw was clenched. His grip on Mr. L's arm was starting to slip, so he let go with his left hand and brought it to his mouth, using his teeth to take the black glove he wore off. Then, he used the ungloved hand to grasp Mr. L's arm once again, getting a better grip. His fingernails dug into the inch of exposed skin between Mr. L's glove and his sleeve, and sweat made his now gloveless fingers slightly slick.

Mr. L wanted to tell him to just let go. He wanted to tell him that this was just wasted time and that everything would be fine by tomorrow, but confusion seemed to cover his mouth, preventing him from speaking out at all. 

"Dimentio, this isn't working, we have to re-establish a plan," Count Bleck's voice said, and there was a chime. Dimentio nodded, acknowledging the words, then took a deep breath, slowly pulling Mr. L back onto the rooftop. 

By the time Mr. L was on solid ground, he finally took note of his racing heart. Funny, he convinced himself that he wasn't afraid that time, but it was clear that something inside of him would always be afraid. 

He looked over at Flamethrower, who was breathing heavily with his hands on his knees, clearly tired. His older brother looked over at him, his gaze softening with relief, but he didn't move or run to him. 

"Looks like we'll have to continue this next time," Dimentio smiled, letting go of Mr. L's hand. He picked up his glove and put it back on, then walked over toward the edge.

Next time...

"I'll be there," Mr. L breathed, still filled with an almost cloudy feeling as he processed what happened.

Dimentio saved him. He actually saved him.

"I know you will," the jester said. He waved with a wink, then disappeared, and Mr. L had to fight off a small smile.

"Dang it, they got away again," Flamethrower huffed between breaths.

"Yeah..." Mr. L muttered, his gaze softening slightly. 

Next time. They'll get them next time.