[Suggested music - Wario Land: Shake It! - Main Menu: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hV5gO5gb... ]

Not only would this invention let Wario steal from anyone; it would let him steal from some very specific people. People who didn't just have treasures; people who had HIS treasures. Treasures they swindled from him. Treasures that'd be lying in his house now if the world were any fair. He had to correct thest injustices, or his noble, garlicky heart could never rest easy.

First on his hit list: Captain Syrup. He scowled, gritting his teeth together. Rotten pirate girl! Scumbag! Dirt-wad! He had her to blame for his current living standards. Back-and-forth raids with the Black Sugar Gang left his treasured gold coin bags, rare gems, and collectable figurines in her filthy grasp. Those beautiful dollars were SUFFERING in her hands! He didn't want to even think of what that filthy lout was using them for. Keeping gold scattered carelessly in her quarters? Holding the dough in her grubby hands? Using it to -he shivered- purchase goods and services? And she always acted so smug about it, tossing her stupid booty around when she robbed people blind!

The man shook a W-marked fist to the sea, jaw still clenched and shaking. Somewhere in that ocean, Syrup was sailing in the S.S. Teacup, or the Sweet Stuff. Hordes of pirate minions patrolled it. After Wario's last "Rescue Mission" to retrieve his moolah, the Captain of Cavities improved her high-tech defense mechanisms. But she couldn't plan for a shrunken thief to scurry aboard. Soon, Wario swore, he'd have his day. Her greed would destroy her! If not her bad manners, temper, arrogance, and lack of hygiene!

He'd ground his teeth so much that a fine white dust coated his feet. With a step out, and a scratch of his backside, the yellow-hatted man noticed a soup-stained article on his coffee table that offered another option: The Golden Pyramids. A relic of a lost empire, built under Princess Shokora's reign. Explorers had just dug out more of the buried temples, untouched by civilization for centuries. But with immense stone doors blocking it, only a mouse could get in or out.

A mouse... Or a yellow rat. Wario had blown through all the cash he "re-appropriated" from the last Golden Pyramid they dug up. Even if Shokora's ghost popped up, she seemed pretty relaxed about letting him take her old stuff. Nothing a phantom can do with cash, anyway. And she probably had the hots for him; natural, with his beefy biceps and strong jawline.

But time was short; too long, and rival thieves or explorers might squeeze their way in. Probably some ancient deathtraps here and there to stop them - thing was, Wario would have to dodge them, too. The place looked so old, it could crumble like a sandcastle at any second. And if the Golden Diva's spirit came back, she might get pretty possessive over the cash within. As if they were hers or something. Wario frowned. Taking from others like she did was plain wrong.

[Suggested music - Wario Land: Super Mario Land 3 - Water Stages: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z4x_7ce3W7M ]

It was a no-brainer. When the man's very own riches were out there, lost and scared, it was his duty to retrieve them. Wario pedaled furiously on his shrink machine until it mashed him to bite-size, using his righteous fury to power it. He hopped in the cannon - which pointed for the high seas.

When he fired, the woman's face flashed inside his head. Captain Syrup, nefarious leader of the Black Sugar Gang. Terrors of the ocean, renowned looters with a sweet tooth for gold. The pirates didn't discriminate who or where they stole from, but they had a favorite target. Ever since the kerfuffle on Kitchen Island, that redheaded rogue had it in for Wario - and he had it in for her.

The last time they clashed swords, his rival claimed victory. And she'd held it far too long. Now, he was ready to tip the scales again. Wario would teach her a thing or two about stealing other people's things! Mostly, by doing it better than she did!

He cut into misty clouds, leaving tiny holes in the shape of his beautiful body, and splashed into the sea. Right on time, his target came into view. He swam towards it.

[Suggested music - Wario Land: Shake It! - Aboard the Sweet Stuff: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rd8n74XDQUY ]

Smooth seas crashed against the hull, designed in the shape of a giant treasure chest bursting with a cornucopia of boons. The skull-and-crossbones flag rose to the salty winds: a dare and warning to everyone who spotted it among the heavy mists. The Sweet Stuff was a majestic ship, stolen from the fabled Shake Dimension's greatest pirate.

Stolen by Wario's target herself.

He swam to on one of the ropes off the side, and began scaling the wall of splinters and barnacles. The stir of the waves rocked the vessel slowly, making its shrunken invader swing against the hull; his gloves clung hard to the material, even as the perspective dizzied him. Far above, he spotted something red, a blazing fire in wild curls against the grey-and-indigo skies.

His magnificent brows furrowed, looking up. "Urgh, don't tell me that's her -- WAH, get your mitts off!"

An immense manicured hand rested on the edge of the deck, playing idly with the rope. The wind blew through Wario's hair - including his chest hair - as the fidgeting woman swung him violently. At the swing's apex, he spotted hints of a soft, exposed shoulder behind two loose magenta straps. But really, the man didn't need any other identifying features; he knew that long, curly red hair, which flopped over her wide shoulders when she ran with treasure. He knew that elegant hand, having seen it pluck away his gold more often than he plucked chips from a bowl. He knew this scoundrel far better than he'd have wanted to.

"SYRUP." The rogue didn't so much speak the captain's name, as grind his shiny teeth in frustration until they produced a roughly equivalent sound. Mid-swing, she tugged the rope in, sending Wario flying in the air - with a perfect overhead view of the deck.

Curse her. Curse that light-purple bandana. Curse that smug, hungry look in her deep eyes and full, red lips. Curse the way she put her hands on her rounded hips with the baggy pants that accented her developed rear. Curse the crew of Black Sugar Gang that waddled around as she barked orders. Curse the floor that Wario landed headfirst into, splattering him. Curse the saltwater he choked up and the stars fluttering above his head. Curse gravity, keeping people down like that. Curse everything on the Sweet Stuff!

...Except his treasure. If Captain Syrup was here, she had to have some gold aboard. Her rival would take what was rightfully his! Even if it wasn't his to begin with!

Something shook as he plotted his daring heist. The captain turned away from the seas, stretching her great arms - the purple banks dangling behind her neck, and the tooth necklace across her bust swaying gently with the crashing waves. Folds stretched along her loose pants, from the red belt with the skull buckle - taking a step, her boot jolting forward...

SCRUNCH. Before Wario could unglue himself from the floorboards, the curvy woman had done the work for him. The light mauvre surface squeezed him flat. Hard rubber above him silence his screams, pushing his internal organs into a messy, thin lump. His sturdy limbs, hefty abs, and beautiful face were completely stuck against the enormous plane of footwear, wearing down on him. It felt as if Mt. Teapot was on his shoulders!

"Gah... I'll get you for this!" His screams were unheard, just making the sour taste of mixed dirt launch an attack on his taste buds.

She trod along the deck, counting the crew members on watch. Either unaccustomed to basic manners, or trying to assert her authority, she crossed the Sweet Stuff in quake-birthing stomps. Her lack of etiquette appalled the man - while he suffered the brunt of this heavy-footed walk! He'd have to teach her some manners, he thought, scratching his crushed backside.

"Avast." The Black Sugar Gang's boss looked up to the crow's nest. "Are we still clear for Jewelry Land?"

So, that's where this ship was cruising? The man wondered, between agonizing squeezes that surrounded and engulfed him.

Her voice was low, husky, coming from deep inside her gut. It rattled across Wario's ears, much to his agony. He'd had enough of that sugar-coated sweet-talking when they were last working together... Another thundering footstep knocked his thoughts to reality again.

From above, a beak squawked in response: "We're sailin' steady, but visibility is bad! Might be weeks before we reach land!" The dark-feathered foul looked down. "Do you think we can make it there before Kaptain K. Rool?"

The gang's leader tapped her foot, thinking.

Thwoom. THWOOM. THWOOM.

"Wah! WAH! WAAAAHCK!"

Again and again, the scallywag clinging on hit the unstable ground. The rollercoaster of falls twisted and bent his mustache, sticking out from his flattened face. Each push down made his blood boil more. Oooh, when he saw that pirate's smug smile turn into shock, when she noticed everything she'd stolen swiped from under her nose... Wahahah!

The redhead, balancing on her heel, called up: "If we hurry. Keep watch, I'll be in my quarters." When she got up, the rascal inhaled deeply, trying to refill himself - an effort ruined once the next step re-pushed the oxygen out of his system, like a whoopee cushion.

This pirate kept peering through his spyglass, trying to decipher a shape in the mists. "And Wario? What if he's after the treasure?"

She twisted behind her, smearing the invader across the rubber surface. He tried to bear it as the ankle twisted, crushing him down deeper. "Wario?" One single eyebrow raised inquisitively. Her bare arms crossed under her heaving chest. "Don't get me excited. The only expedition he's gone on recently are nose-digging sessions." She gave a sigh permission to escape her stomach. "Man lost his sea legs a long time ago. Now microgames and fart jokes are his fate. Forget him."

And with an easy menace, and drooping shoulders, the buccaneer turned again, firmly grinding the man in question in a semi-circle. It stuck him closer to the gigantic boot. His sense of direction failed him as he flied in the air, grabbing a peek of the pirate's firm booty, before falling to the ground anew. SLAM!

Okay, now that was too far! He still had his sea legs - even if they ached with pain from the steady motion of Syrup's far larger, more shapely sea legs. He was totally in shape for adventure! Wario couldn't believe how crass and insulting she was, the absolute dried seaweed brain! And so greedy, too! Greed never paid.

Her weight shifted on him as the other foot plowed forward, a step in the distance sending a shake through the overall-clad backside. It signaled another timber-shivering ascent of her leg, stretching a great distance out. Diminished arms reached out to block the oncoming, light-brown deck. He concentrated his amazing might into the push, trying to force against the crippling weight...

...And failed. His arms gave out.

SLAM.

With each step, he got a moment where the pedal pressure pushed deep into his chest. He'd get an excruciating moment to prepare for the incoming foot. A second of freedom, a single breath of salty sea air, and his nerves set into motion, trying to prepare. And inevitably, with another SLAM, Syrup covered him, the man becoming a pancake.

Finally, the door to the captain's quarters swung open. His tiny, eggshell eyes couldn't glimpse anything but dirty shoe; still, he felt it, sensed it nearby.

Cash.

Emperor Vespasian of Rome once said, "Money has no smell". If you asked our avaricious hero, Emperor Vespasian of Rome was full of garbage. Money, to his careful snout, had the delightful odor of a spring day in a monsoon; the lovely stink of home-cooked curry with garlic bread; the head-lightening stench of a new car, filled with a full set of newly-unpacked Amiibos.

This room reeked of money. Each time her foot raised, he felt its warm gleam touch him, the light reinvigorate him.

THUMP.

Captain Syrup rested in her room, locking the door. Gravity slowly re-oriented itself to the swaying of the boat. Forwards, backwards. Her leg muscles shifted slightly with each pull and push. It was so subtle a change, one that detectable only by a specific man - one sensing each subconscious twitch from near her body, reflected as crushing weight on him.

"We have time..." She hummed. "I deserve a nice bath."