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His systems slowly powered up, a brief hum filling the air as each part of his frame reacted to that strange environment. The code in his processor began to run, and his optics activated.
A golden insignia on his helm and a mark on his internal components indicated who he belonged to:
Deus machina
Yes, he was a Star Guardian—or at least he would be trained to be one—built in a hurry and the smallest of the lot, with a serial number and a designation that would be Blue Cop
The training was brutal; he was beaten multiple times, dragged across the ground, and parts of his frame were torn off. His visits to the medbay were so many, that some of the doctors started to look at him with softened glances. Optics coming from all directions watched and recorded his every movement with razor-sharp precision in that coliseum.
He needed to keep going
His fuel levels were low, but he would keep pushing through; he might just pull through. His fist struck an opponent… leaving him as the last one standing. The silence that had settled in was broken by the crowd’s cheers of jubilation. He raised his arms and clenched his fists, then fell to his knees, struggling to catch his breath.
His superiors exchanged glances, and a look of approval was evident on their faces. The very next day, he was already learning more than just how to fight, but his early days wouldn’t be entirely predictable.
You simply can’t hit your teammates with your weapon card—even if it’s an inconvenience!
Dialogue first, then action. After years of cultivating his patience, he was now ready to serve the public; out of sheer nostalgia, he continued to go to the coliseum to fight from time to time.
Shortly after he was put into service, he slowly built a reputation. He was diligent and dedicated—standard qualities that all Star Guardians should possess—but Blue Cop had something more that no one could deny. A frame so small that it hid secrets not even Blue Cop himself knew.
The battles against the Wild Cardbots—beings who wielded the power of beasts without scruples, terrorizing the Metal Cardbots—intensified, causing countless casualties among civilians; so, eventually, Blue Cop was assigned to an attack unit under the command of Commander Flame Nova. Working with Flame Nova didn’t feel like anything out of the ordinary; the rumors he’d heard before seemed absurd. But the Commander was so friendly...
The mission to stop the chieftain of the Monohorn tribe, Solidhorn, was a disaster; a significant number of Star Guardians fell to the ground in a matter of seconds. Blue Cop tried to attack but was wounded and ended up on the ground, gasping for breath. The bodies of his comrades surrounded him, and purple flames began to appear. He raised his fist, weapon card ready, determined not to give up, when he heard footsteps beside him. Flame Nova placed a hand on him, causing him to lower his arm, and then rushed forward to finish the job.
A few things had changed since then; he continued to go into battle with determination. What was the difference between those “wild” and common criminals? … There was no difference at all. He wouldn’t let his guard down to anything or anyone. Commander Flame Nova’s downfall showed him what he must NOT do.
Hesitate.
The days went by, but there was a certain tension in the air. When he was summoned to one of his superiors’ offices, a Metal Breath was placed in his servos along with a simple order from Deus Machina to follow: Find a friend. He ran toward the escape pods without looking back until he found himself in space, where all he could see were the remains of what used to be the planet Machina. He pressed the Metal Breath against his chest as he closed his optics, murmuring a prayer that would reach no one’s ears.
For some reason, I was chosen—I won’t let you down.
A promise to himself had been born as the darkness of outer space enveloped him; there would always be a tomorrow.