I had gotten bored of simply hanging around 'The Warehouse'. It was such a boring place, full of boring things that was making me bored. I think I put bored too many times.
Anyway.
I felt like slipping away from the rest just to cause a bit of trouble because I have the insatiable urge to wreck havoc from time to time. Why? Well, kids do and, even though I have spent my years training constantly to avoid problems and still have not matured enough to want to stop causing trouble of my own.
Dedede was busy discussing future plans with his wifey and the two younger ones were playing together in the corner. There was paper, glue, pencils and whatever else comes in an art and craft set.
Taking a few steps in my calculated plan, I found myself going closer and closer towards the door, readying myself for whatever questions would be fired at me.
Yet, none were. Either they didn't care that much about me, or purely ignored me altogether.
Swinging open the doors of the place, I escaped the bar and was met with the streetlight. It was warm and welcoming, angelic and artificial, lighting up the dull scene that I was sure to become familiar with.
In my melancholic moment, I simply ignored everything around me and briefly touched upon my thoughts; I had no idea where to go, nor what to do. The city required money for someone to have fun, and the best thing that a broke person could do was practice contemporary pole dancing on a lamppost in hopes of fruit from their bizarre labour.
Narrowing their eyes, they tried to read a faraway advertisement that had been carefully place on a building flat. The picture that it showed was a band of three girls; one girl had bleach white hair, a purple dress an black heels to compliment. What could be taken away from the image was that the white haired girl was probably the favourite, seeing as she stood at the front, microphone in hand, with what could easily be described as the most obnoxious heart drawn in a pink crayon style around her, whereas the others had a fainter star carelessly drawn around them, in a shade of gold that was rustic and closer to bronze. The girl in the background had pink hair that faded into a lighter shade, sky blue eyes and a pink dress consisting of several layers of skirt and poof. Underneath was a pair of white tights that fit into a diamond pattern, perfectly matched in shade to the first girl's hair. The final girl was what convinced (Y/n) that all of them were familiar to them. She had ombre hair that consisted of a chocolate brown and the burning crimson of combustion. Her face expressed an unnoticeable amount of resentment, buried underneath a faux happiness and pretend excitement. Instead of wearing such formal dresses and following the dress code of the others, she compromised the skirt for trousers and adopted a formal, male dress code.
It was hard to miss the fact that they were the friends who had abandoned them in the first place, choosing fame over friendships. If that was how it was, then (Y/n) could follow suit and be just as shallow. Unless it was a bit more complex than that, which they assumed it was; they never had been deemed as bad people, and they never could be. Everything they had done was for others, and they were given scarcely any time to let a thought slip into their mind and blossom, since peril and doom was around every corner they turned. Karma had caught up to them and they had gotten the time to chase dreams that were in danger of dying, had they not made the decision.
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Sitting on the side of the street, they decided to take a minute to relax after walking for so long. Far away sat the headquarters of Haltmann, dormant and lively simultaneously. Windows flashed with electricity for moments at a time before falling back into the darkness they once felt. (Y/n) knew what was going on there, misery flooding to their mind at the thought of their beloved friend taking part in the corruption that happened.
The sun rose into the sky, casting a spell of summer across the widespread horizon and making it blush. Present with dawn was the daily patrols, ensuring that none of the rebellions were given the opportunity to strike, or formulating a plan that was ripe. Nobody dared to walk the streets when any of Haltmann's robots hung about; they were the equivalent of people who put in milk before cereal, as they were that hated.
This information however, was unknown by the puffball, who sat casually right by where the patrol would take place. They genuinely believed that nothing too terrible would happen to them, since they were a hero of a high honour, so such a thing was never an option.
So, there they sat in front of the derelict shopfront, in hopes of no confrontation. If they were challenged by anybody, then they hoped it would be the friend that they had abandoned so many years ago.
What arrived lived up to their expectations once again. That suit of mechanical sapphire armour, encasing an organic being against his will to fight for what he opposed.
Mecha Knight.
His rustic-looking, mechanical movements were slow and gave him a heavy look. The menacing, pink gem that sat in the centre of his mask as a decoration, glistening in the sunlight that bounded off it gracefully. No form of emotion managed to escape past the silver that hid his face, and no light penetrated through the eyehole. Marching down the street, his sight wandered from left to right, observing any motions that his visual sensors could detect.
(Y/n) admired how much trust was placed in the armour that he had given the reluctant knight, despite the fact that it was more than certainly going to be his downfall. They knew that somehow, they would managed to break through the armour and help their friend through what had been forced upon them.
Since they were the only person on the streets to watch, his focus shifted to them effortlessly, an he made his approach.
YOU ARE READING
Away in the Galaxy (Kirby Fanfiction)
Fanfiction(Y/n) had become tired of the repetitive nightmares that haunted them endlessly for nights in a row. It was torment, torture, horror, a perpetual nightmare become reality. However, when the nightmares begin to play with reality, (Y/n) will have to g...
