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Long ago, our universe was nothing more than an endless void, darkness reaching as far as could possibly be imagined. Then, eight godly entities known as the Arbiters came into existence. Each created a world of their own through their power, and thus brought about the Crossroads.
Clashing metal rings through the air.
In an empty field amid the ruins of a lost civilization, two mechanical giants are locked in ferocious combat.
One is a quadrupedal automaton. It has the form factor of some hybrid between a lion and a tiger, faster and larger than both combined. Tungsten-white fangs attached to its artificial jaw accent its blue mane, and within its steel-grey torso lay a number of powerful weapons.
The other is an equally large robot of a humanoid design. Two large, bulky arms extended from a central body, with a sole pilot manning the helm from inside a caged compartment. Its three legs, each built like an insect’s and just as flexible, have tank tracks on each foot for maximum mobility and balance.
In an instant, the Liger jumps at the Mech with incredible speed.
No time to think. The pilot clasps the driver’s stick and whirls the mech aside. Narrowly dodged, it seems. And as the beast lands on the ground, a prime opportunity comes into view.
“Alrighty,” the pilot taunts, “Time for pain!”
Heavy whirring emanates from the mech as its arm lifts in front of it. Then, in a blink, its torso spins around and slams a mechanical claw right into the side of the beast. It slides across the ground, carving a path into the dirt and knocking a tree loose from its roots.
“Aw yeah, baby!” The pilot pumps a fist.
“Reyn!” A voice interjects from the pilot’s headset. “I heard a loud sound from over here. Is everything alright?”
“I’m alright, I just sent the wild zoid flying.”
“Be careful, you just have to hold it off for now.”
The Liger is recovering from the blow, and starts to get itself upright.
“Until the others get here, right? I know, I know!”
Reyn dashes over to the wild zoid before it can rise and grasps onto its hind leg. At around 90 tons or so, the mech creaks as it manages to carry this massive creature’s entire mass overhead. With a jolt of the controls, he tosses it forward and-
“Agh, no!”
It catches itself on the ground and skids to a stop on all fours. Figures an agile zoid like a Shield Liger wouldn’t fall for a grapple move like that.
As a thank-you present, two missile pods, eight rockets apiece, pop out of its sides.
In time, people came to inhabit these worlds. Some where born here, while others came from realms unknown. Civilizations have risen and fallen. Technology is developed, then forgotten. Wars are fought on whatever ground conscious life sets foot upon.
“Rrgh, can’t get ‘em from here…” The mech was primarily outfitted for moving heavy machinery, but modified for combat as fighter models were in short supply. Without ranged weaponry, options for approach are limited.
“I’m on my own, though. Guess I just go for it!”
The mech rushes to the side as the zoid fires a barrage of missiles where he was. Dirt shoots up into the sky from the explosions, obscuring the path behind him. But there’s no point in running away; Reyn’s heading forward, toward the beast. When the liger gets a feel of his direction, he turns around just as it starts shooting ahead. Each turnabout, it gets a little more precise, he gets a little more predictable. The closer he gets, the shorter the distance, the less time Reyn has to react, and the more prepared his predator is to blast him sky high. And just as its crosshairs were finally aligned with him-
“Let’s end this!”
In a single blow, the arm slams right into the Liger’s cockpit and destroys it, shutting it down for good…
Even now, we struggle to exist as the forces which stand in our way threaten to eradicate us all.
At least, that’s how it should have gone. But this mechanical monster got its name for a reason. A shield made of pure energy had materialized in front of it, just as he punched, blocking the attack like it were nothing.
“Aw, come on! Not now!”
It’s over in an instant. The liger slashes with its claws, severing an arm and a leg from the mech’s industrial-grade frame, and blowing it back to the ground. Dust catches in Reyn’s throat, making him cough up a storm. As he rushes to get out of the cockpit, he finds the beast standing right above him.
It seems especially grateful for the dent in its side and the energy it’s wasted on its prey, and wants to give him a parting gift.
This was it.
The claws rise up.
The claws come down.
A ninth arbiter, long forsaken and forgotten to time, casts a shadow on the lives of us all. In his relentless onslaught against the denizens of the Crossroads, he seeks to bring about the destruction of our world.
The claws scatter across the floor, decoupled from the paws that owned them.
A suave gentleman stands in front, wearing a red vest with a white shirt and a short black cape that wraps around his shoulders. He rests a moment, bringing his blade down to hip-level. In one fell swoop, he'd cut clean through the metal binding the beast's claws to its paws. He turns to face Reyn, his well-trimmed beard and parted brown hair adorning an expression of confidence and compassion.
“Sorry I kept you waiting.”
“Dunban!” Reyn exclaims. “Glad you made it!”
As the liger is stopped, processing this new opponent, Dunban dashes forward and carves into its left hind leg. Wires spark and crackle as they spew out from the gash, and the beast collapses under its own weight.
“Reyn,” Dunban yells, “get your scrap driver!”
“Yes sir!”
Taking the order, Reyn runs around to the back of the toppled mech and reaches for a lever. A compartment opens up, revealing an odd device. It looks like a rifle with the barrel replaced by a single-edged blade, all bolted tightly to the back of a sand-colored shield with orange markings. He pulls it out, slots his arm behind the grips and holds on tightly, with the shield against his shoulder and arm.
Meanwhile, the machine is currently toppled onto its side, but it swipes at Dunban with its tail as it gets up. Dunban jumps over it, and runs to attack its hind leg. He cuts through it like butter, and deals serious damage to the wiring within.
As Reyn catches up to the fight at hand, the Liger shakes its massive head. Time for action.
The Liger, still unbalanced, makes a disoriented swipe at Reyn, yet he tanks and deflects the halfhearted attack using his scrap driver. Opportunity in hand, he pierces its metal leg with the scrap driver's blade, jabbing it multiple times. And each time, as he pulls it out, it snaps a few wires and making the leg less functional.
Knowing it's outmatched, the Shield Liger jumps away, crumpling uncomfortably as its damaged limbs give out upon the landing.
A double-barreled turret pops out of its back, with the one on the end of its tail reaching around. Both of them begin to fire directly at Dunban. However, he was zig-zagging between the shots effortlessly, and made a rapid approach. None of the shots could hit him, no matter how well the beast led its fire.
As the Liger fires at Dunban, Reyn makes an approach unnoticed. Halfway in, he swings his weapon around in a taunting motion. "Hey, ugly! I bet you can't hit an easy target!"
The machine turns its head toward Reyn. He could do heavy damage if he had the chance, and the Liger knew this. Dunban was hard to hit, but Reyn should be easy. In its compromised state, and with a destructive force like Dunban, it needed to even the playing field.
The Liger directs its back turret away from Dunban and toward Reyn, but he puts up his scrap driver like a shield and lets it takes the hits, moving back and forth to dodge whatever he can. He's never been a fast one, but Reyn knows how to take a beating. Meanwhile, with less fire his way, Dunban's approach became more rapid than before. And before long, he'd jumped up, brought down his blade, and severed the tail from its back.
Now Reyn was closing in, and he was too close to shoot with the back's cannons. With only one limb remaining, the Liger makes a swing at Reyn. But it was no good; he saw it coming, and simply stopped before he got in range. He took his weapon, and pierced the beast's shin, and again, and again, and again. That leg was out of commission.
In a last ditch effort, it attempts to fall on top of Reyn. He puts his scrap driver up over his head and bears the entire weight of the beast on top of him. Reyn's feet dig into the dirt below.
"Rrrgh... Dunban! You gotta... finish it!"
Dunban turns around, and sees Reyn struggling from the burden on his shoulders. He runs up along the beast's hind leg, and pulls himself onto its back. The beast's turret turns directly toward him, but before it can fire, it's already cut off from the body. Sword in hand, Dunban pierces through the cockpit, shattering the glass. He carefully steps in, takes his sword, and jams it right into the controls- slicing, dicing, and severing connections between its motherboard and its components.
The Liger deactivates. Reyn slowly lowers it down, letting its broken legs suspend it just above the ground, confident that it can't move them out of the way to flatten him.
Dunban jumps out of the cockpit with a sigh of relief. "Another job well done, Reyn."
"I couldn't have done it without ya!"
This being, known as Darkseid, is not unstoppable. Though his power is great, the forces of life have worked together to resist his influence and preserve the world order.
As the two of them walk off, the voice behind Reyn's headset speaks up again. "Have you defeated the wild zoid?"
"Yeah, it's scrap metal now," Reyn answers back. "Ready to harvest for materials, I reckon.”
"Okay, good! Come back to the campsite, and I'll get you both patched up."
"Roger that-"
Suddenly a large explosion rings out from behind them. A large blast of electricity emanates from the Liger's body as it is hit by a projectile from the distance. Reyn and Dunban turn to look behind them. Its entire head is ripped apart, with shrapnel scattering across the floor of the forest clearing. In their sense of security, they hadn't noticed the beast pull out two massive laser cannons from its sides as they were walking off.
"Reyn! Dunban! What was that sound I just heard? Is everything alright?!"
Off in front of them, another mech had just arrived, sitting between the trees at the edge of the clearing. It's identical to the one Reyn had helmed, except in place of the bulky arms, it has a massive beam cannon of its own built on top. A real combat mech, designed for long range.
Sat in its cockpit is a petite young woman with golden hair that reaches down to her neck. She had on a blue and black uniform adorned with circular buckles, plated shoulder pads, and a silver helmet reminiscent of an ammonite shell.
"Fiora!"
Dunban runs over to see her, and Reyn follows suit. Getting closer now, they notice she's got her arm crossed, with a frustrated expression on her face. Someone’s not happy.
"What were you two thinking, leaving a wild zoid unattended like that? It was going to blast you to pieces!"
Reyn massages the back of his neck in awkwardness. "I'm sorry, Fiora..."
"I expect something like that from you, Reyn... But Dunban? Come on, you're better than this."
"You're right." He closes his eyes in shame. "We got careless at the last moment. I damaged its internal computer, but I shouldn't assume it's over until it's fully neutralized."
Fiora sighs with a small smile. "It's destroyed now. I'm just glad you're both safe."
The headset spoke up again. "It sounds like everything worked out!"
"Looks like it to me," Reyn responded. "Okay Shulk, we're coming back now."
"Okay, see you soon."
However, some worlds are less fortunate than the others. One has already fallen into darkness. Now, two more are at risk of a similar fate.
"Ooh- OW, watch it!"
Reyn gripes as his arm is wrapped in gauze. His sleeveless crop top, accented with silver and orange patterns, matched well with his muscular physique. He had large fingerless gloves on which covered most of his forearm. Though his long pants are a little loose, they fit snug at the hips and are capped off by his boots, making it easy to move around in them. Reyn was always a little big for the uniforms of his original squadron, so he had to settle for something practical. But it was so comfy that it ended up being his go-to outfit; now he wears it all the time.
"S-sorry! Did I pull it too tight?"
His medic, pulling his hand back awkwardly at Reyn’s exclamation, couldn’t be more different. He has a head full of platinum blond hair, complimenting his striking blue eyes. A young adult, this man’s slim frame was covered in a dark grey sweater and a red hooded jacket. His shorts ornamented by detailed patterns and leather straps that stretch down to his knees. It’s a more casual outfit, meant for more casual scenarios.
"You did!" Reyn answers.
"I see... I'll try to be more careful."
"Ah, don't worry about it, Shulk." The hulking sighs. "Did you hear how well we did out there?"
"I did! It sounded like quite the battle."
"Oh really?" Fiora says as she walks up with a cheeky grin on her face. "Last I checked, Reyn forgot Shield Ligers have shields."
Shulk chuckled. "That's just like you, Reyn!"
"Heeey, come on! It's easy to forget in the moment!"
Fiora takes her helmet off, her eyes half closed. "It isn't, really."
Dunban, having been off in the corner of the tent sharpening his blade, joins in. "I also recall he had the beast in his grasp, but chose to throw it farther away rather than, say, drive it into the ground."
"Not you too, Dunban!”
"You have a lot to learn, before you're ready to fight alone on the battlefield."
"Aw man..." Reyn scratches his head.
The group would continue to banter and laugh all through their patrol, as they awaited another alert for a wild zoid attack. Soon enough, the sun began to set, and they set up shop for the day and headed back to the city of Markov.
I came to Cevanti to help however I could, yet I wonder if I should be doing more. People tell me I'm doing fine, yet I feel as if I'm not doing enough.
"Was your invention a success?"
Shulk's advisor, Finley, walks around the counter top, his long, curly burgundy hair bouncing with each step as his lab coat flows behind him.
The weapon development lab for Markov's Pilot Union is an absolute mess with all the machines scattered about. Guns, swords, launchers galore, and so much more lines the countertops that run through the room. After their regular patrol, Shulk came back to report to his advisor on his recent invention, bringing Reyn's weapon with him. It's nice to come here and tinker on the machines; he'll get lost in it for hours if the union lets him. They've really started reeling him in, recently, from all the unintentional overtime he's been earning.
"It certainly was," Shulk responds. " Reyn said it was durable enough to withstand a wild Liger's force, and it was able to pierce metal easily."
Finley puts his hands on the side of the weapon. "What was it called, again? A 'scrap drill', right?"
"Scrap driver, actually. It's a design I've been toying with for a while."
"I guess you're glad to have it working, then! Mind if I have a look at it?"
"Not at all, Finley! In fact, I'm flattered you want to know how it works."
"Good! Because you need to clock out. Don't want the boss man breathing down your neck, huh?"
Shulk scratches his head awkwardly. "Er, no, I don't. I'll head out then."
And so, he maneuvers around some of the larger machines on his way to the door outside. But as he nears the door, Finley speaks up.
"Hey, keep up the good work, alright? You've got a bright future here."
Shulk looks backward, his smile sullen.
"...Of course. Have a good night."
Should I be doing more than I am? Is it really okay for me to be taking the sidelines while my comrades are risking their lives in battle? It feels like the afternoon's just come and gone, before my eyes.
As he walks out of the front entrance, the golden sun shines its light upon the city of Markov, glass on its dreary brutalist skyscrapers reflecting bright white. Shulk leans on a rusty iron railing, looking out over the buildings below. An ocean of vehicles ebbs and flows throughout the grid of streets, far away from the slums which stretch for kilometers on.
His blond hair almost glows in the evening, matching beautifully with the pale orange sky. His outfit, though futuristic in a fantastical sense, is a much better fit for his home in Erde Nona than the likes of Cevanti. But perhaps it makes a welcome change of pace, to see the vivid reds and blues of his clothes standing out against the meager grey of the concrete. A splash of color in a weary wasteland. A spark of hope amidst cynical decay.
A poetic thought. But it brings Shulk little solace in his melancholy.
What... do I do?
Clashing metal rings through the air.
In an empty field amid the ruins of a lost civilization, two mechanical giants are locked in ferocious combat.
One is a quadrupedal automaton. It has the form factor of some hybrid between a lion and a tiger, faster and larger than both combined. Tungsten-white fangs attached to its artificial jaw accent its blue mane, and within its steel-grey torso lay a number of powerful weapons.
The other is an equally large robot of a humanoid design. Two large, bulky arms extended from a central body, with a sole pilot manning the helm from inside a caged compartment. Its three legs, each built like an insect’s and just as flexible, have tank tracks on each foot for maximum mobility and balance.
In an instant, the Liger jumps at the Mech with incredible speed.
No time to think. The pilot clasps the driver’s stick and whirls the mech aside. Narrowly dodged, it seems. And as the beast lands on the ground, a prime opportunity comes into view.
“Alrighty,” the pilot taunts, “Time for pain!”
Heavy whirring emanates from the mech as its arm lifts in front of it. Then, in a blink, its torso spins around and slams a mechanical claw right into the side of the beast. It slides across the ground, carving a path into the dirt and knocking a tree loose from its roots.
“Aw yeah, baby!” The pilot pumps a fist.
“Reyn!” A voice interjects from the pilot’s headset. “I heard a loud sound from over here. Is everything alright?”
“I’m alright, I just sent the wild zoid flying.”
“Be careful, you just have to hold it off for now.”
The Liger is recovering from the blow, and starts to get itself upright.
“Until the others get here, right? I know, I know!”
Reyn dashes over to the wild zoid before it can rise and grasps onto its hind leg. At around 90 tons or so, the mech creaks as it manages to carry this massive creature’s entire mass overhead. With a jolt of the controls, he tosses it forward and-
“Agh, no!”
It catches itself on the ground and skids to a stop on all fours. Figures an agile zoid like a Shield Liger wouldn’t fall for a grapple move like that.
As a thank-you present, two missile pods, eight rockets apiece, pop out of its sides.
In time, people came to inhabit these worlds. Some where born here, while others came from realms unknown. Civilizations have risen and fallen. Technology is developed, then forgotten. Wars are fought on whatever ground conscious life sets foot upon.
“Rrgh, can’t get ‘em from here…” The mech was primarily outfitted for moving heavy machinery, but modified for combat as fighter models were in short supply. Without ranged weaponry, options for approach are limited.
“I’m on my own, though. Guess I just go for it!”
The mech rushes to the side as the zoid fires a barrage of missiles where he was. Dirt shoots up into the sky from the explosions, obscuring the path behind him. But there’s no point in running away; Reyn’s heading forward, toward the beast. When the liger gets a feel of his direction, he turns around just as it starts shooting ahead. Each turnabout, it gets a little more precise, he gets a little more predictable. The closer he gets, the shorter the distance, the less time Reyn has to react, and the more prepared his predator is to blast him sky high. And just as its crosshairs were finally aligned with him-
“Let’s end this!”
In a single blow, the arm slams right into the Liger’s cockpit and destroys it, shutting it down for good…
Even now, we struggle to exist as the forces which stand in our way threaten to eradicate us all.
At least, that’s how it should have gone. But this mechanical monster got its name for a reason. A shield made of pure energy had materialized in front of it, just as he punched, blocking the attack like it were nothing.
“Aw, come on! Not now!”
It’s over in an instant. The liger slashes with its claws, severing an arm and a leg from the mech’s industrial-grade frame, and blowing it back to the ground. Dust catches in Reyn’s throat, making him cough up a storm. As he rushes to get out of the cockpit, he finds the beast standing right above him.
It seems especially grateful for the dent in its side and the energy it’s wasted on its prey, and wants to give him a parting gift.
This was it.
The claws rise up.
The claws come down.
A ninth arbiter, long forsaken and forgotten to time, casts a shadow on the lives of us all. In his relentless onslaught against the denizens of the Crossroads, he seeks to bring about the destruction of our world.
The claws scatter across the floor, decoupled from the paws that owned them.
A suave gentleman stands in front, wearing a red vest with a white shirt and a short black cape that wraps around his shoulders. He rests a moment, bringing his blade down to hip-level. In one fell swoop, he'd cut clean through the metal binding the beast's claws to its paws. He turns to face Reyn, his well-trimmed beard and parted brown hair adorning an expression of confidence and compassion.
“Sorry I kept you waiting.”
“Dunban!” Reyn exclaims. “Glad you made it!”
As the liger is stopped, processing this new opponent, Dunban dashes forward and carves into its left hind leg. Wires spark and crackle as they spew out from the gash, and the beast collapses under its own weight.
“Reyn,” Dunban yells, “get your scrap driver!”
“Yes sir!”
Taking the order, Reyn runs around to the back of the toppled mech and reaches for a lever. A compartment opens up, revealing an odd device. It looks like a rifle with the barrel replaced by a single-edged blade, all bolted tightly to the back of a sand-colored shield with orange markings. He pulls it out, slots his arm behind the grips and holds on tightly, with the shield against his shoulder and arm.
Meanwhile, the machine is currently toppled onto its side, but it swipes at Dunban with its tail as it gets up. Dunban jumps over it, and runs to attack its hind leg. He cuts through it like butter, and deals serious damage to the wiring within.
As Reyn catches up to the fight at hand, the Liger shakes its massive head. Time for action.
The Liger, still unbalanced, makes a disoriented swipe at Reyn, yet he tanks and deflects the halfhearted attack using his scrap driver. Opportunity in hand, he pierces its metal leg with the scrap driver's blade, jabbing it multiple times. And each time, as he pulls it out, it snaps a few wires and making the leg less functional.
Knowing it's outmatched, the Shield Liger jumps away, crumpling uncomfortably as its damaged limbs give out upon the landing.
A double-barreled turret pops out of its back, with the one on the end of its tail reaching around. Both of them begin to fire directly at Dunban. However, he was zig-zagging between the shots effortlessly, and made a rapid approach. None of the shots could hit him, no matter how well the beast led its fire.
As the Liger fires at Dunban, Reyn makes an approach unnoticed. Halfway in, he swings his weapon around in a taunting motion. "Hey, ugly! I bet you can't hit an easy target!"
The machine turns its head toward Reyn. He could do heavy damage if he had the chance, and the Liger knew this. Dunban was hard to hit, but Reyn should be easy. In its compromised state, and with a destructive force like Dunban, it needed to even the playing field.
The Liger directs its back turret away from Dunban and toward Reyn, but he puts up his scrap driver like a shield and lets it takes the hits, moving back and forth to dodge whatever he can. He's never been a fast one, but Reyn knows how to take a beating. Meanwhile, with less fire his way, Dunban's approach became more rapid than before. And before long, he'd jumped up, brought down his blade, and severed the tail from its back.
Now Reyn was closing in, and he was too close to shoot with the back's cannons. With only one limb remaining, the Liger makes a swing at Reyn. But it was no good; he saw it coming, and simply stopped before he got in range. He took his weapon, and pierced the beast's shin, and again, and again, and again. That leg was out of commission.
In a last ditch effort, it attempts to fall on top of Reyn. He puts his scrap driver up over his head and bears the entire weight of the beast on top of him. Reyn's feet dig into the dirt below.
"Rrrgh... Dunban! You gotta... finish it!"
Dunban turns around, and sees Reyn struggling from the burden on his shoulders. He runs up along the beast's hind leg, and pulls himself onto its back. The beast's turret turns directly toward him, but before it can fire, it's already cut off from the body. Sword in hand, Dunban pierces through the cockpit, shattering the glass. He carefully steps in, takes his sword, and jams it right into the controls- slicing, dicing, and severing connections between its motherboard and its components.
The Liger deactivates. Reyn slowly lowers it down, letting its broken legs suspend it just above the ground, confident that it can't move them out of the way to flatten him.
Dunban jumps out of the cockpit with a sigh of relief. "Another job well done, Reyn."
"I couldn't have done it without ya!"
This being, known as Darkseid, is not unstoppable. Though his power is great, the forces of life have worked together to resist his influence and preserve the world order.
As the two of them walk off, the voice behind Reyn's headset speaks up again. "Have you defeated the wild zoid?"
"Yeah, it's scrap metal now," Reyn answers back. "Ready to harvest for materials, I reckon.”
"Okay, good! Come back to the campsite, and I'll get you both patched up."
"Roger that-"
Suddenly a large explosion rings out from behind them. A large blast of electricity emanates from the Liger's body as it is hit by a projectile from the distance. Reyn and Dunban turn to look behind them. Its entire head is ripped apart, with shrapnel scattering across the floor of the forest clearing. In their sense of security, they hadn't noticed the beast pull out two massive laser cannons from its sides as they were walking off.
"Reyn! Dunban! What was that sound I just heard? Is everything alright?!"
Off in front of them, another mech had just arrived, sitting between the trees at the edge of the clearing. It's identical to the one Reyn had helmed, except in place of the bulky arms, it has a massive beam cannon of its own built on top. A real combat mech, designed for long range.
Sat in its cockpit is a petite young woman with golden hair that reaches down to her neck. She had on a blue and black uniform adorned with circular buckles, plated shoulder pads, and a silver helmet reminiscent of an ammonite shell.
"Fiora!"
Dunban runs over to see her, and Reyn follows suit. Getting closer now, they notice she's got her arm crossed, with a frustrated expression on her face. Someone’s not happy.
"What were you two thinking, leaving a wild zoid unattended like that? It was going to blast you to pieces!"
Reyn massages the back of his neck in awkwardness. "I'm sorry, Fiora..."
"I expect something like that from you, Reyn... But Dunban? Come on, you're better than this."
"You're right." He closes his eyes in shame. "We got careless at the last moment. I damaged its internal computer, but I shouldn't assume it's over until it's fully neutralized."
Fiora sighs with a small smile. "It's destroyed now. I'm just glad you're both safe."
The headset spoke up again. "It sounds like everything worked out!"
"Looks like it to me," Reyn responded. "Okay Shulk, we're coming back now."
"Okay, see you soon."
However, some worlds are less fortunate than the others. One has already fallen into darkness. Now, two more are at risk of a similar fate.
"Ooh- OW, watch it!"
Reyn gripes as his arm is wrapped in gauze. His sleeveless crop top, accented with silver and orange patterns, matched well with his muscular physique. He had large fingerless gloves on which covered most of his forearm. Though his long pants are a little loose, they fit snug at the hips and are capped off by his boots, making it easy to move around in them. Reyn was always a little big for the uniforms of his original squadron, so he had to settle for something practical. But it was so comfy that it ended up being his go-to outfit; now he wears it all the time.
"S-sorry! Did I pull it too tight?"
His medic, pulling his hand back awkwardly at Reyn’s exclamation, couldn’t be more different. He has a head full of platinum blond hair, complimenting his striking blue eyes. A young adult, this man’s slim frame was covered in a dark grey sweater and a red hooded jacket. His shorts ornamented by detailed patterns and leather straps that stretch down to his knees. It’s a more casual outfit, meant for more casual scenarios.
"You did!" Reyn answers.
"I see... I'll try to be more careful."
"Ah, don't worry about it, Shulk." The hulking sighs. "Did you hear how well we did out there?"
"I did! It sounded like quite the battle."
"Oh really?" Fiora says as she walks up with a cheeky grin on her face. "Last I checked, Reyn forgot Shield Ligers have shields."
Shulk chuckled. "That's just like you, Reyn!"
"Heeey, come on! It's easy to forget in the moment!"
Fiora takes her helmet off, her eyes half closed. "It isn't, really."
Dunban, having been off in the corner of the tent sharpening his blade, joins in. "I also recall he had the beast in his grasp, but chose to throw it farther away rather than, say, drive it into the ground."
"Not you too, Dunban!”
"You have a lot to learn, before you're ready to fight alone on the battlefield."
"Aw man..." Reyn scratches his head.
The group would continue to banter and laugh all through their patrol, as they awaited another alert for a wild zoid attack. Soon enough, the sun began to set, and they set up shop for the day and headed back to the city of Markov.
I came to Cevanti to help however I could, yet I wonder if I should be doing more. People tell me I'm doing fine, yet I feel as if I'm not doing enough.
"Was your invention a success?"
Shulk's advisor, Finley, walks around the counter top, his long, curly burgundy hair bouncing with each step as his lab coat flows behind him.
The weapon development lab for Markov's Pilot Union is an absolute mess with all the machines scattered about. Guns, swords, launchers galore, and so much more lines the countertops that run through the room. After their regular patrol, Shulk came back to report to his advisor on his recent invention, bringing Reyn's weapon with him. It's nice to come here and tinker on the machines; he'll get lost in it for hours if the union lets him. They've really started reeling him in, recently, from all the unintentional overtime he's been earning.
"It certainly was," Shulk responds. " Reyn said it was durable enough to withstand a wild Liger's force, and it was able to pierce metal easily."
Finley puts his hands on the side of the weapon. "What was it called, again? A 'scrap drill', right?"
"Scrap driver, actually. It's a design I've been toying with for a while."
"I guess you're glad to have it working, then! Mind if I have a look at it?"
"Not at all, Finley! In fact, I'm flattered you want to know how it works."
"Good! Because you need to clock out. Don't want the boss man breathing down your neck, huh?"
Shulk scratches his head awkwardly. "Er, no, I don't. I'll head out then."
And so, he maneuvers around some of the larger machines on his way to the door outside. But as he nears the door, Finley speaks up.
"Hey, keep up the good work, alright? You've got a bright future here."
Shulk looks backward, his smile sullen.
"...Of course. Have a good night."
Should I be doing more than I am? Is it really okay for me to be taking the sidelines while my comrades are risking their lives in battle? It feels like the afternoon's just come and gone, before my eyes.
As he walks out of the front entrance, the golden sun shines its light upon the city of Markov, glass on its dreary brutalist skyscrapers reflecting bright white. Shulk leans on a rusty iron railing, looking out over the buildings below. An ocean of vehicles ebbs and flows throughout the grid of streets, far away from the slums which stretch for kilometers on.
His blond hair almost glows in the evening, matching beautifully with the pale orange sky. His outfit, though futuristic in a fantastical sense, is a much better fit for his home in Erde Nona than the likes of Cevanti. But perhaps it makes a welcome change of pace, to see the vivid reds and blues of his clothes standing out against the meager grey of the concrete. A splash of color in a weary wasteland. A spark of hope amidst cynical decay.
A poetic thought. But it brings Shulk little solace in his melancholy.
What... do I do?