From deep space, a radio message.
“Fall back to the front.”
We have a front? Where? In the mess of rubble and metal?
Between the streams of bullets?
Between the explosions?
I’ll just hide in the hollowed out buildings.
Fuck. They’re gone.
Everything has gone silent. Something just flashed bright.
The way the dusty sun bounces off it. Can only be one thing.
The azure red mech. The gunfire begins anew. But…
The bullets arrive where it was, never where it is.
Grand blazing sword slides through mechas.
Its rifle fire pays no heed to evasion.
Shoulder cannons spiral orange bolts along impossible lines.
It belongs to no side or cause. Imbued with serene grace.
This isn’t combat. It’s not war.
It’s the concept of zen,
soaked and boiled in ultra violence.
And now it’s gone.
Fallen mechas line the ground.
Heaven shattering roar breaks on the horizon.
Giant robots are the best. Inspired by Evangelion and the like.