![]() "Oh, but the systems are showing a 'delivered' status for all sent missives the last ones were just sent out a few hours ago. "No, not yet." He scrolled down the tablet's display. "Have there been any responses to the general invitations?" "Excellent news, Maxwell." He paused for a moment, thinking. "The current roadmap for the additional Smashers tentatively slates their introductions for Month 3 at the earliest-personally, I recommend the first show of that month." It shouldn't take longer than a few months." He tapped a few icons on his tablet and nodded to himself. "The expanded invitations are still tied up the Department of Locating Competitors is currently working out the logistics there. Maxwell shook his head, the blocky blond 'hair' atop his head jiggling with the motion, not unlike a mold of gelatin. "Has there been any progress regarding future newcomers?" His fingers curled into a fist and he rapidly pivoted his wrist laterally, shaking out of his reverie. It was all such tedious work, but those people had much, much more experience in handling problems within the Multiverse, so he was willing to defer to their authority. There were also numerous forms detailing how a fighter would be able to return home if called upon, and how such an event would impact their place on the roster (It wouldn't). It felt like a thousand forms per combatant needed to be completed, ranging from liability over the competitor's injuries, despite his systems never allowing for lasting physical trauma of any kind, to liability over the competitor's universe. Master Hand sighed as he recalled the jungle of red tape he'd endured. The final mountains of paperwork you've filled out have finally been approved by the Multiversal Protection Agency, and the rest of the initial invitations have thusly been sent." "The Original Twelve have finished testing out our new combat systems, and are reporting favorable results. "Everything is coming up a lot more smoothly than it did during last season's development, Sir," Maxwell responded, gaze returning to his tablet. After all, he'd created the Miis for the sole purpose of emulation emotions and idle actions were just things that came from exposure to people. When did he pick up that mannerism? Master Hand supposed it wasn't important in the long run. "Do you have a status report for me?"Ī smile flickered onto Maxwell's face and he took a moment to push his gold-framed glasses up onto his 'nose', despite him never needing to do such a thing. His number one Mii patiently floated alongside him, awaiting acknowledgment. Tearing his gaze of wonderment from the crown jewel of his systems, he turned to Maxwell. He could only pat himself on the back of the hand for so long. At the center of it all was a custom-built console specifically for Master Hand's use, should he feel the need to take direct action.Įach of these crucial instruments lent its own contribution to a veritable symphony of order. Monitors lined the walls, clusters of servers filled the corners, and neat rows of computer terminals saturated the floor space. If any of them thought to touch the floor, the power coursing through and from this room would be felt humming beneath its metallic surface. Numerous Miis bustled about to fulfill their tasks. The Main Control Room, where he was currently overseeing the final checks of the systems, buzzed with activity. While not normally one to gloat about his creations, Master Hand couldn’t help marveling over the sheer technological superiority of his latest work. ![]()
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