This is a parody of Xenoblade Chronicle's New Game Plus. As a side note, it's standalone and doesn't link with Xenoblade Chronicles Abridged. I hope you like it. And a big shout-out to Fanfiction user P.T. Piranha, Chapter 1 is full of their jokes. :)

Any ideas are appreciated, of course, shared via review or PM, and I will provide a shout-out in the chapter that it is used (guests receive one in the pen name they go by for the idea); please, I welcome your thoughts, it really makes my stories better! I also field questions. :)

"Long ago, like, literally eons ago, there were two great titans, locked in a timeless battle in an endless ocean, their heads scraping the top of the eternal sky. The titans were the Bionis and the Mechonis: can you guess who the bad guy is yet? After blows were struck, the two became tired and threw in the towel. I don't know why. I also don't know why they fought or why we live on two great titans, or even if this story managed to remain completely truthful in the centuries it's been passed down and retold, but whatever. Take it as real, I really can't tell anymore.

"Now, our world, this vast land stretching across the fossilized carcass of the Bionis — this is why you keep active, folks — is in jeopardy from the unrelenting attacks of the Mechonis. All but 2 colonies have been destroyed by these attacks, countless Bunniv lives…devastated. With just 21 gold a day, you too can save these wonderful, fluffy creatures. Just the cost of a cup of coffee can feed a family of Bunnivs for a year. So please, give now. Someday, your child's future pet…will thank you."

The Battle of Sword Valley, one year ago.

Three men fall back against a tall barrier of metal. The first one, an old geezer, scowls at his younger companions; the man in the middle grins in reply while the clearly-a-villain, sketchy man — with black hair, sunken eyes, a pasty face, and Wolverine claws — of the trio moans and slaps his face. Despite the uniform appearance of everyone else around them, yes, even the obviously-evil man, the middle man looks the stupidest.

"Dunban, I told you to wear your defense uniform!" the old geezer, growls.

"Getting short-sighted in your old age, Dickson?" He leans toward him and chuckles dumbly. Dickson recoils at the sharp scent of musty fur, fabric, and alcohol. "Don't worry, I did."

"You idiot, that's the Makna series!"

"Heh, heheh, no it's not." Snorting, he takes another swig from the flask at his side and lifts his rather plain-looking, if not large, sword up. "We have the Monado. With this, the battle is ours for the taking!"

Mumkhar, the definitely-evil man with the name to fit, exaggerates his moans further. If anything, they sound desperate. "That's not the Monado!" he exclaims in a raspy, evil voice.

"Are you kidding me, you forgot it?!" Dickson says, his eyes bugging out. Just the mere sight leads Dunban into a flurry of giggles.

"Nope! I left it with Shulk, I figgered he needed it for somethin' or another." He waves his hand. "I just…can't remember what."

"That's it, I'm outta here!" With a stammer, Mumkhar stands up and throws his head back.

Dunban stands as well, sways, then grabs the man's arm to steady himself. Mumkhar moves away in dismay as the man's foul breath slaps his face. "Um, nooope, nopenope, don't go, what will we do with thhhheses things?" he asks, holding up his claws and trying to make up something cool to say. "I need to cut my vegetables."

"No! I am done!"

"But nooo." he cries out slowly and rather pathetically.

Before the man could continue making a fool out of the Defense Force — not that they need him to do that — Dickson cuts in. "We need to establish your character as Evil Villain Number 4. Behind Zanza, me, naturally, and Egil."

"Oh, okay. In that case, it's all cool then, old man."

He sighs and walks off. "Let's just show how this thing works."

Dunban stammers something and tries to catch up, one arm extended out. "Wait, what thing—?"

"The Monado thing that you so conveniently forgot!" he yells back.

"Sweet." Dunban replies. "Sall's good, man, I'm just awesome enough to use the Monado arts without the Monado. Don't ask how it works, I fergit."

Grunting, he swings his sword about five hundred times in about five hundred ways, and at the considerable, comedic effort on the young man's part, a purple glow bathes the trio. Mumkhar whimpers something under his breath as he ducks Dunban's drunken sword wielding yet again, only to not gauge how off Dunban swung it, and loses part of his scalp.

"Oh Bionis!" he screams. "What's my girlfriend gonna say now?"

"Cheryl's genna liek it," the man mumbles, swaying from the weight of his sword as the violet haze finally floats to life around them. "You look like a Gogol."

Mumkhar flushes red. "It's Désirée, s-shut up!"

"What?!" From the background, Xord advances toward the sketchy man. "Mumkhar, you dirty — AUUUGGHHHHHHHHHH!"

Dunban raises his eyebrows. "Okay. Not gonna see him again."

They begin calling out attack names like Pokémon, only Dunban seems to have gotten a little lost.

"Drunken Bottle Smash! Oh, urgh, I don't wanna break my flask, I don' even hava bottle, uhhhh… Hows'bout Silly Kick! How do I attack again, Dickson?!"

The group, minus Dunban, defeats the horde of vile mechon judging Dunban's Awesome Fighting Skills.

"I am Dunban, awesome hero number 1! Yayyyyyyyyy…"

"Shut. Up." Mumkhar replies. "I'm going to be the laughing stock of the Defense Force at this rate!"

"You already are," Dunban says in reply.

"I can't wait until Lord Zanza returns all of you lot to the Bionis," Dickson adds quietly, averting his eyes from the sad spectacle that's unfolding next to him.

Dunban suddenly collapses onto his knees as lightening lances up his right arm! He screams and falls over. "Ahhhh, ahhhh! The Monado, it's hurting me!"

"You don't have the Monado!"

"Dicky, play along!" he snaps between dramatic shrieks of agony. "Oh Bionis, the painnnn!"

"Ugh." Dickson rolls his eyes — then notices Mumkhar making his "getaway" to Galahad Fortress. "Eh." the man says with a shrug.

Mumkhar cackles as he glances behind him. "Perfect! Now I can hustle my buns back to Colony 9 and take the Monado right from under that undead-lookin' kid's nose! Aheheheheheh, I'm so evi—iiiaaaaaaal!" He trips and slips down a steep slope. "Ah poop. I went the wrong way again, gosh dang it, why does this always happen to me, I'm just as bad as Dunban's little brat!"

A mechon approaches him and aims a squat laser his way.

"Yeah, you don't hafta rub it in!" he says nastily. "I can't even go back the other way now with dignity!"

Many more lasers point his way.

"Stop mocking me!" he sobs. Then he pauses and takes this scene in for a moment.

Totally-evil guy? Check. Evil opportunity to join the bad guys to get back at the good guys in a totally-evil way? Double-check.

Mumkhar grins and sits up. "Oh yeah! Oh yeahyeahyeah, riiiight there!"

"Woooo-hooooo!" Dickson and Dunban look up as their "friend's" scream echoes within the lonely valleys of Sword Valley.

"Oh well. What a pity, right?"

"We definitely won't see him again during the duration of this plot."

"Yep," Dunban says, sniffing the lip of his flask with suspicion. "Eh, did you water this down?"

"I wish I had."

"Oh, okay."

Pressing on, and on, and on! the two men manage to get within the span of three meters before a giant fortress unit ahead of them smashes down its comrades.

"Welp, let's fall back," Dickson eaks out. "I mean, I'm totally apt to fight this brute, but you? Ha! No way."

Dunban tears himself free from Dickson's support and dashes forward, holding up his sword with his other hand now. "By the power of Dunban! I have the power!"

A growl escaping his lips, the older man stalks over to the younger one and drags him away. "We'll let the Defense Force fall back to Colony 6."

"I mean, I could be drunk, but… That's super far down." Dunban replies.

"I don't care."

The Battle of Scrap, one year ahead.

Shulk, an introverted engineer and weapons developer, collapses in a heap like the scrap around him. He had just finished riffling though as much of the junk in Colony 9's designated trash heap as he could, and he's found utterly nothing.

"Everything is useless!" he wails out to the world. "I can't get anything to work, I think this is artist's block!" Kenny Rohan has fascinated en mass with his tales of "artist's block," or in Layman's terms, "something that churns every single work you do into a piece of crap." Shulk finally understands it, finally understands why after the masterpiece of the Scrap Driver ("Why did I give that thing to Reyn, I should have hung it on my wall!"), his well of ideas has run dry. Now no one will ever take him seriously anymore.

"Hey, hey, dude."

The boy turns toward the Skeeter, balefully perched on an antenna next to him.

"Look over there. Yeah, over there. You want to get out of artist's block? Use that thing."

He gasps dramatically and stumbles to his feet. "An M69! Thanks, convenient hallucination Skeeter!" It flies off, and Shulk happily tugs on the large chunk of armor. "If I can just…get this thing off — whoaaaa!" Letting out a squeal, Shulk lands on his butt. "Dang it, it's stuck!"

The armor shivers and begins moving as a lonely Colony Krabble emerges from underneath. It looks at the boy as if ready to attack!

As Shulk remains petrified, completely helpless in all his scrawny glory, a hulking young man comes to the rescue, slapping the Krabble with his awesome, high-stats driver.

"Reyn!" the boy gasps. "It's just a Krabble, no need to slap it!"

The two stare at the Bionis creature as it lifts one leg up, rubs the spot where Reyn hit it, then… It…doesn't attack.

"What happened?" Reyn asks, scratching his head with his driver. "Hey," He looks over at Shulk, "What's your level, man?"

With a shrug, Shulk continues to yank at the Krabble shell. This time, it doesn't even bother to respond. "81. You?"

"The same. Huh, I guess even a Krabble knows not to mess with Zanza slayers, haha!"

Shulk looks up at him blankly, dropping the struggling Krabble. "Zan…za?"

Reyn blinks, a vapid look suddenly crossing his face. "No idea."

And as the world reset, so did Shulk and Reyn's memories.

"Anyways, we gotta get back, Square-tashe is gonna kill me if I don't hustle my buns!"

The future-Monado-wielder cracks a wry grin. "Heh, I bet he'd kill you even if you do!"

"Got me there. Come on, at the very least he won't accuse me of stalking you again if we get back fast enough!" The two homs begin walking back to Colony 9, a cheerful air around them. "You heading to the weapon development lab again?"

"When I've sold any parts I can't use."

HE DOESN'T.

The Military District, otherwise known as Hell's Kitchen.

"HOW DARE YOU CRASH THE MOBILE ARTILLERY INTO A HOUSE! WHAT WERE YOU EVEN DOING IN THE RESIDENTIAL DISTRICT?!"

With a sharp inhale, the soldier on his left mutters something, as if trying to remain calm. It's not working. "Um, well, sir, you can't get to the Military District in under 40 seconds! It's impossible!"

Vangarre seems to have sobered for a moment. He pauses, glances up at the birds chirping cheerfully in the sky…then looks back down and punches him. "YOU MISSED THE BOAT, TIM, AGAIN! AND FOR GOING OUTSIDE OF MY BOUNDARIES FOR YOU, I WANT A MILLION PRESS-UPS, AND YOU BETTER NOT STOP UNTIL YOUR BICEPS EXPLODE!"

Both men recoil immediately at that. Then the one of the right laughs. "Riiight. See you later, Timmy."

"OI! YOU TOO, SATORL-BREATH!"

"But why me?" he whines.

"YOU FAILED AT MOVEMBER!"

"No…" The man, a hardened soldier, begins to cry as he covers his mouth. "Stop making fun of my halitosis…"

Vangarre rolls his eyes. "DOES EVERYBODY MISS THE BOAT?! GET THE MOBLE ARTILLERY BACK HERE, HALITOSIS, AND DO IT WITHIN 40 SECONDS OR ELSE I'LL MAKE YOU CLEAN UP YOUR BICEPS! AND BELIEVE ME, THE GRAVEL AROUND THE TRAINING GROUNDS DOESN'T CLEAN WELL!"

"B-but sir…"

"WHAT NOW?! I WANT YOU OUT OF MY FACE, YOUR BREATH STINKS!"

"Sir, the ether cylinder is empty. Tim ran it down after doing donuts near Anti-Air Battery 1."

Throwing his hands up, the wild-mustached man who's probably won his fair share of Facial Hair Awards, merely walks away. He inhales desperately, then briefly flashes back to face them. "I'LL MAKE REYN DO IT, I CAN'T TAKE YOUR RANCID BREATH ANY LONGER."

As the two walk past a bewildered Shulk, Halitosis bumps into him purposely. "Don't. Ever join the Defense Force," he says with a mutter. Shulk, in response, nearly dies gagging from the man's horrible breath, a mix of Dunban's Makna armor, Dickson's alcohol, 1,000-year-old eggs buried somewhere around the colony, and Reyn's stinky toes. Don't ask how Shulk knows that.

It was a long story having to do with a revenge gag gone too wrong. Reyn didn't wear shoes for a year afterward.

Sighing, Shulk slumps into the weapon development lab. Dickson abruptly manifests on the laboratory's counter, and at the sight, the boy squeals and stumbles backward. "Dickson!"

"Hey, Shulk m'boy, how're you holding onto life? With sheer ignorance?" Bubbling a laugh, he slips down from the counter and throws an arm around Shulk's frail shoulders. "Ahahaaa, forget I said anything. I've been looking at your research. Didn't hafta write a whole research paper on it, you know I can't read."

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" Shulk, his eyes glued onto the red blade of the…super-fancy replica Monado? perched on a stand enjoying the center of the lab, looks up at the man. As he straightens, the True Monado jiggles on his back. "Um, yes." he replies testily. "Sososo—! I discovered that — no, hold on, this is great! — that there are actually a lot of different symbols that can appear on this weapon!"

"Eh? Is that what this thing says?" Dickson asks, lifting the loose pages up.

"Yes, exactly. There should be about, I dunno, a lot, but I haven't gotten a chance to break the centre glass to find out yet!"

Dickson has to stifle his girlish scream. "You want to do what?!"

"Yeah, see, there're all these layers, like a Nopon, only less round —"

"Shulk, you gotta get out more!"

The boy stops at Dickson's growl. "What? But I was just out."

He scoffs, plants his hands onto the boy's back, and shoves him out the doors. "Get! Out! More!"

"But I was just at the scrap yard all day! Like, literately all day, I have a sunburn on my buttcheek!" Shulk screams and fights Dickson pathetically. "I don't wanna be eaten by Bunnivs!"

In the day of the life of A New Faux-Main Character…

A storm pounds on the windows of an isolated house at the far end of the Commercial District, where a man, stripped shirtless, reclines in his bed; a girl on the first floor slaves away in the kitchen. She scoffs, picks up the tray, and mocks up the best smile she could ever muster.

"Oh, Dunban~?"

Dunban hastily finishes off a super-tiny glass bottle and sets it down at the side of the bed. "U-Um, Cattttttttthhhheeerine!"

"Um, no." she replies flatly. "It's Fiora."

"Ahahahahahahaha… Silly Cathy."

"Anyways, I brought you dinner!" Fiora holds up the tray and sets it down on the bedside table, steam curling from the yellow curry. "Something to…" Narrowing her eyes, she sniffs the air. "…Lessen your…drunkenness."

With an exaggerated — yet wholly sincere — gasp, Dunban dives over the edge of the bed and tries to shove all 20-something empty tiny travel-bottles underneath it. Only to fail, because Fiora grabs him by the skin folds of his neck and pulls him back toward her. "Ow! Ow ow owieee, Cathy! I'm not d-d-drunk!"

"You're terrible. Eat your curry, Dunban."

Shrugging, he throws his right arm, heavily scarred and stiff, over the headrest of the bed before cracking open another bottle with his teeth. "You wanna drink?" he offers in a slurred voice.

Fiora only shakes her head. It was more in disappointment, really. "No, thank you," the girl remarks coldly, "I don't drink."

"Eh! More fer me~! Heheheh…" Dunban chuckles before chugging the bottle. "I tink I'm ready for the Monado again!"

"What?!" She gets right up in his face. The man recoils. "Don't say that, Dunban, don't say it!"

"What the big deal, eh, Fior…" Confusion dulls his already-glassy stare. "Cathy? It's just a plastic blade!" He erupts into giggles again. "I just…dunno how it zapped me when I wazn't even usin' it." the man finishes in a mumble.

"You're drunk, you clearly don't remember." Fiora sits on the floor beside her brother's bed and draws her knees up to her chest. "I almost lost you, Dunban, I don't want to lose you again!"

"But I didn't use it," he replies in a childlike tone. "Jussss go! I wanna be alone with my Mechonis Mark! Get some food to Shook before he cacks over, hahaaa!"

"Don't you mean Shulk?"

"No."

Dunban stares down the lip of the bottle — now completely empty — before sticking out his tongue and running it along the rim. Fiora only storms off. "Eat your curry, Dunban."

"What curry?" The man frowns at her, and she points firmly to the bowl still sitting next to him. He then, after drunkenly exclaiming an "oh," takes the spoon in his bad arm and drops it. "Spoon nooo," he cries out pathetically. "Cathyyyy? Caaaathyyyy?"

Fiora, in a huff, strides out of her home with a basket slung over her shoulder. The rain has thus stopped as the moon begins to rise above the tall houses and cliffs surrounding the meager colony.

"Ooffff!"

"Oi! Hey, watch it, brat!" She looks up in surprise as Deus Ex Dickson scowls down at her. "Where're you goin' in such a hurry?" Eying the girl suspiciously, he folds his arms. "Out rendezvousing?"

"Ew, no! I'm going to see Shulk —"

"I KNEW IT!"

"— To bring him his dinner, Dick!"

"I KNEW IT!"

"Shut up! Anyways, I'm heading to the most romantic spot imaginable," the girl says with a sarcastic edge, "the weapon development lab."

Dickson snorts. "He's not there right now."

"He's not?" This surprises Fiora. "Really?"

"Yeah, I sent him out to get some fresh air." The man looks briefly up at the sky for no reason other to be enigmatic before smiling smugly. "You know where he'll have gone."

Fiora's body tenses in anticipation. "The scrap yard!"

The homs pauses from puffing on a cigar, inhaling in pure shock, and begins coughing and choking as some of its smoke sucks down his airways. The tobacco roll tumbles to the ground. "What?!"

"You're saying he's not?!" the girl replies, aghast.

He waves his hands and continues coughing. "No! What made you think that, Dunban? You know how he is drunk!" he finally spits out. "Gah! I'm done." Dickson grabs at his chest, gasps for air, and pounds on it. "It's New Years' Eve, I'm giving up smoking."

"Speaking of Dunban." Fiora says, shuffling her feet in embarrassment.

He stops at the doorframe. "Ugh, what is it now?!"

"Dunban's gotten into your stash." Fiora says simply.

Dickson swears and hurries into the house, bolting up the stairs; every step he traverses is sprinkled with obscenities that would make even Frenzied Bana blush. "May Zanza curse your failed liver forever, Dunbaaaaaan!"

Blinking, Fiora exhales a weak protest before rolling her eyes and heading off. "Sheesh. Can't get decent information out of anyone conveniently located for me these days."

Outlook Park, or The Park Outlooking Colony 9, plagued with Shulkitus.

"If only Dickson would let me break the centre glass piece of the Monado, then I could figure out the power of it!" Shulk muses.

Outlook Park is never very busy at this time of night — especially when Shulk is there. He always seems to frighten everyone away, he doesn't know why, really; maybe it's his constant rank smell never mended with a hot shower, or maybe it's his constant talk about the Monado, that weapon that his childhood hero Dunban wielded in the Battle of Sword Valley. He seems to be the only one who doesn't view it with lust. Hm.

"Oh Shulk~!"

He frowns and turns around on the bench outlooking the colony. "Fiora! How on this infinite ocean did you find me!"

"You sound genuinely flabbergasted." she replies dryly. "Look, I brought you, erm…" Lifting up the basket, the girl glances at the midnight sky. "Um, dinner?"

"Sweet, thanks." Shulk says, though he doesn't seem to be paying all that much attention. "If only…Reyn wouldn't use the Monado as a vegetable cutter again…"

Exhaling in exasperation, Fiora sits down next to Shulk and opens the basket, shoving a sandwich into his hands. "Eat!"

"But I'm not hungry—"

"Eat!"

"Okay, okay! Fine!" Shulk shoves a mouthful of his midnight snack into his mouth. He chews, swallows, and nods thoughtfully. "It's good!" he says in sincere surprise.

At his tone, Fiora recoils and scrunches up her face. "Oh really?"

"Y-yeah." The homs takes another bite.

"Oh REALLY?" She jumps up. "Ha! You're lying! Shulk has no sense of taste!"

"Are you saying I'm not Shulk?" he asks, completely missing the boat.

Fiora flops back down and sighs, folding her arms. "No. Only Shulk would be nuts enough to be up here by himself mumbling nonsense about the Monado again."

Shulk abruptly gasps and lifts up a slice of the white bread. "You used special herbs and spices today!"

"How did you know?! It's thyme!" she replies eagerly. He groans and drops the sandwich to his lap. "What?"

"Son of a Dickson. You tricked me! You thought I wouldn't notice the long green stems I keep picking out of my teeth, well, I don't appreciate that much never, Fiora!"

Her head drops to her hands. "Ugh! And to think Reyn insisted you'd fall for it!"

"Huhhh… Anyways, enough about Reyn and his Thyme. Or is it Reyn…Time…?"

Suddenly, sirens ring!

From below, faint screams are heard as Colony 9 villagers scramble for cover.

"It's mechon, it's mechon!"

"Run away!"

"YOU IDIOTS, HOW MANY TIMES TO I HAVE TO TELL YOU THAT THIS IS THE DEBRIS SIREN?!"

Fiora scrambles to her feet and snatches the sandwich away from Shulk's crotch. Giving him the stink eye, she bites into it hard and snorts. "Let's go, Kenny Rohan, I'm shocked you haven't found a way to extend the coverage of the Anti-Air Batteries."

"Hey, as long as this guy gets herded to a shelter, I don't really care."

"You're so egotistical."

"Well, call me Klaus and bust my buttons, really?!"

"I won't dignify that with an answer."

That moment when you find an actual manga short for Xenoblade Chronicles called "ディクソンさんといっしょ!," aka, "Together with Dickson!" No, I'm serious. I'm pretty sure 4-year-old Shulk tries to kill a Bunniv with Dickson's sabre.