WARNING: Huge endgame Mother 3 spoilers in this fic! 
Please don't read unless you've finished the game. 

The March of the False
by Wasuremono

	"Remember!" blared the Happy Box. "On Halloween night, all good children stay inside!"

	Well, they were inside -- but Nickel guessed what they were doing was more obeying the letter of the law than the spirit.  He and Ritchie were huddled up near the window in Ritchie's bedroom; while the little corner bedroom was cramped even with just the two of them, its window had a fine view of the street, and that was far more important than the claustrophobic feeling blooming just behind his eyes. 

	Admittedly, Nickel wasn't sure what to expect from the night. The Happy Box had gone on and on about this new holiday, "Halloween," but it hadn't given much detail at all. Something about not going out, and about having food ready...? Maybe it was supposed to be a surprise, he'd decided, as childish and silly as that was. It's not like things being childish and silly were unusual in New Pork City.

	"Hey!" said Ritchie, with her usual impish grin. "I hear something!"

	There it was -- a loud, rhythmic thumping, coming from the street below and growing louder. Nickel slumped forward and rested his arms against the windowsill, hoping for a better view, but it wasn't hard to see the source of the sound: the four lines of people marching down the street in an even cadence, heavy footfalls almost like thunder.

	At first, Nickel had thought it was a horde of children, but watching more carefully revealed how it was that they walked in such an even step: robots, every one of them. They were all crafted in the shape of a chubby, scruffy-haired blond boy, but every robot wore a different costume, each one more elaborate than the last. Soldiers, workers, monsters... mostly monsters, he noticed. Some were brightly-colored and fanciful, but many were more gruesomely realistic than he'd have liked. Flanking the double line of robots was a line on either side of Pig Masks, their uniforms an unusual garish orange. The soldiers shortened their steps to stay in formation, watching over the robot kids carefully, as if they weren't sure what to expect. What in the world, thought Nickel, was going to happen?

	"Look at that!" Ritchie pointed at a space further down the street. "Isn't that one of the Beauty and Tasty counter robots? What's it doing?"

	Nickel could see it now, too: one of the robot women from Beauty and Tasty was shambling after the line. For something as ungainly as it was, it was moving remarkably quickly, and the Pig Masks at the rear of the patrol were starting to glance back at its progress. Suddenly, it surged forward, barely staying upright as it closed in on the child-robots in the last row -- and then it wailed. The sound was half a mechanical static, half a woman's high keening, and it carried so well that Nickel had to shudder. Something about it seemed so human...

	But the parade of robots didn't even miss a step, continuing its march of monsters. The few Pig Masks who had hesitated hustled to catch up.

	Nickel watched, speechless, as the Beauty and Tasty robot's speakers finally went out and stopped its shuffling gait, collapsing onto its knees and then its face in the road. It lay there for a moment before he realized that, truly, nobody was going to return for it, even as it gave a last few creaky attempts to right itself. Heedless, the parade marched on, its lines beginning to split off and pour into the alleys and side streets.

	"The festivities have begun!" said the Happy Box, in its leering lurid voice. "Have your treats ready, because Halloween waits for nobody!"

	***

	When they first heard the heavy metallic footsteps clunking down the hallway, Nickel half-expected Ritchie to suggest they be ready to open the door, but his sister was uncharacteristically quiet. Ritchie's face was almost solemn, really -- definitely not something he was used to. "Ritchie," he said to wake her from her reverie. "Are you okay?"

	"Yeah, yeah," she said, "but... I don't wanna go out there and see those things. It's just too creepy. The costumes, and they're robots? And..." She trailed off, and Nickel nodded vigorously, as if to forgive her from continuing.

	"Yeah," he echoed, softly. "Let's stay in here."

	It wasn't long before the footsteps stopped, and Nickel heard the door outside open. "Oh, hello, hello!" said his father, voice clear through the apartment's thin walls. "Hold on just a moment, I've got--"

	"Trick! Or! Treat!" The words were harsh, metallic, more a command than anything, and Nickel winced. These robots and their speech-boxes...

	"Yes, yes, like I said, I've got the treats right here!" His father's voice sounded only a touch panicked, covered by a treacly false cheer. "Here you are -- I made ribbon candy, and there's candied fruit --"

	The apartment shook with the robots' response. "Is? This? ALL? Insufficient!"

	"Y-yes -- I'm sorry, I, I thought you'd like ribbon candy... We have cookies, and fruit, and potato chips, anything you want..."

	Nickel had expected another harsh retort from the robots, but the voice that interrupted his father's litany was a surprise -- his mother's. "Thomas, have some dignity. What right do these things even have here? Coming into our home, demanding food they can't even eat --"

	"Ma'am." The new voice was masculine, quiet but firm, and it had something familiar about it that Nickel couldn't quite place. "The King's made this decree, and we're here to enforce it. Just hand over whatever the King's representatives want, all right?"

	"Don't you dare 'ma'am' me, Isaac, and don't you think I can't recognize you even under that armor!" Ritchie winced at the sound of the hatred in her mother's voice, and Nickel followed when her words sunk in. That was Isaac? Participating in this -- this -- well, what should he call it? It was clear by now it wasn't a real holiday.

	His mother went on: "You ought to be ashamed of yourself! I'm about fed up with your King -- can't you see what a lie this city is, and how childish? And now you're demanding food for these robot children, and we're just supposed to go along with it?! I don't know how stupid your King thinks we are, but I'm not going to put up with it any longer!"

	Now that Nickel could place the voice, Isaac's words were even more chilling; there was something new and bitter, like cold metal, in his tone now. "... It looks like we've got no choice. Subdue her."

	"Don't you dare lay a hand on me! Thomas, Thomas, help --" The sound of something crashing, a brief flash of light from under the door... and then there was a terrible silence, broken only by the clunking of feet down the hall and away.

	Only once silence reigned again, and with Ritchie's helping hand, was Nickel able to stand up out of his fetal crouch. They opened the door carefully and tiptoed out into the living room. Sitting on the couch, dazed, was their father; he stared numbly into a large, empty bowl in his hands. 

	"Dad?" said Nickel, hesitantly. "What happened? We heard --"

	Ritchie cut in. "What happened to Mom?"

	"They took her," said their father, voice a soft monotone. "They... Isaac didn't say what for, but I bet it's Good Person Treatment. They're going to make her into a good person... a happy one... and that's okay, isn't it? That's how it should be. She wasn't happy, but she will be now..."

	Nickel'd heard the whispering on the street about "Good Person Treatment," and none of it had sounded even remotely good. "When will she be back?"

	"I don't know. ... This wasn't what was supposed to happen, was it? It was Halloween -- a holiday. Holidays are fun, aren't they? And everything here's so much fun..." Nickel's father forced a little smile and looked up, as if staring over the vistas of the City in his mind. Nickel had to swallow back bile.

	"It was going to be such fun," said his father, hollowly. "The King was going to love our ribbon candy." He paused, thoughtfully. "Maybe he still will?" he continued, his voice filled with some crazy parody of hope.

	For the first time in Nickel's memory, Ritchie burst into tears.

	*** 

	That night, Nickel lay in bed listening to the sobbing from his father's room: a high, strangely delicate sound, like a lost kitten or frightened baby bird. He'd never known his father to cry that way before. Was it because he was afraid of waking them, here in this tiny, thin-walled apartment? Or was it because he was afraid of waking something else?

	It wasn't the volume keeping Nickel awake; it was the realization that they'd all made a terrible mistake. New Pork City was supposed to be their bright new dream, something exciting and glamorous, but at its core it was all fake, glittery paint over splintered wood -- and they were expected to pay for it, give everything to it, and be happy about it. 

	This stupid fake "Halloween" was it in a nutshell, just another price for another shoddy illusion. They'd been expected to give real food to false children, dressed as false monsters, and in the end they'd given a lot more than that, hadn't they? All for the right to live in a city with shiny games and bright amusement parks -- to live in a city only a child could tolerate. No, not even that: only a gluttonous child, one with more hunger than thought or taste.

	Nickel closed his eyes and tried to think about Tatsumairi: the smell of the autumn air, the fresh harvest food, and the happiness that came from hard work. He tried to think of his mother smiling. He tried and he tried, but all that came to him was a great hollowness in his chest and the taste of acid in his mouth, and eventually he gave up and left his mind to the darkness and the shooting stars in his eyes. Sleep wasn't going to come easy tonight, but maybe he could pretend.