Heavy Metal
Prelude
Patience is a thing forgotten by many of my people.
I can almost understand. After all, being so close to invasion of that strange, soft world so close and yet so dizzyingly far and then to suffer defeat- it is disappointing. Disheartening, I would say, if I had such a thing. We lost our great Leader, our Father, in that battle, and even now, when I have taken the role, I do not think we have yet recovered. And of time, we have little, for the Destroyer is almost among us.
Yet time means little to us. We are not flesh, as to whither and die in an brief fizzle of existence.
To act as if we are would render us just as weak, at least in mind. I do not tolerate it. I admit my grip has been...tight upon my subjects, but it is necessary. I am Blacksmith by ambition, by talent, and, as many were quick to point out, default. Some of these have even tried to fight me.
I scrapped them with the very thing they mocked me for having- a talent for sorcery not related to ferromancy. Not for nothing was I Smithy's Chief Advisor. And as I considered melting their lifeless bodies down into something actually useful, it was then that I realized something.
Smithy lacked subtlety. Grace. Who would not notice that idiot Exor slamming into their world and not take steps to stop him? Why steal something so obvious as the Star Road to power the Gate? His strategy, if it could be called so, was as blunt as his hammer.
Smithy was a fool.
From the broken bodies of my enemies, I created a new being. Vainly, I modeled it after myself. She had no real substance; she was merely a shell of wires with a suggestion of a heart, so light I could easily knock her away. Yet she could do much of what I could. She was obedient, would fight to the death, and best of all, I realized, with such a light composition, I could make billions. She would not need strength, if she could overwhelm with pure force.
I saw many come off the assembly line. Not satisfied by one model, I made another, based upon one of my dissenters that I had deemed too valuable to destroy. He was physically stronger than I, faster. I wanted to cover all of the angles. They would make a fine invasion force, if only I could get someone to replicate them on the Other Side.
Someone did.
He was a wandering being in the form of a hand, something of a dimensional drifter, and a fine mage, at that. He become intrigued by my Wireframes, saying something about a tournament involving heroes from all corners of that world who could test their skills against great numbers of my creations.. I agreed readily, but he would not give up his magical secrets. Instead, seeing my mechanized kingdom, he offered me another thing. It was a green box, with a "!" upon it. There was a hat inside, nothing else. Incredulously, I protested this.
"You're already metal," he laughed.
I was taken aback. "It turns things metal? As in...flesh?"
"For a time."
I do not believe in fate. But I almost did then.
The Metal Box obsessed me. My best ferromancers analyzed it constantly, my factories strained to create more. I was soon successful but I soon realized that the temporal limitation on the device could not be broken. The effect was merely temporary, and that is how it would stay. I did not care. I made more. I enticed that being- the Master Hand, he called himself- back and persuaded him to take these Boxes. These could turn to metal without the hat; would that not be more convenient for his fighters? He shrugged off my comment and asked what I would like to trade. I told him to take it with my blessing.
So simple to manipulate. Everything was working so beautifully I was tempted to work on creating another Gate right then and there. But no. I would watch, with my dear Metal Boxes, and my Wireframes. My eyes were everywhere in that tournament, and imagine my surprise, when I saw so many familiar faces, including my own. Set in soft flesh, yes, but there was Enforcer Samus, sly Airship Prime Fox, my second-in-command, Link, and others. Together, we seemed a formidable force, each with unique talents, if only we could come together in that world with the beauty only found in machinery.
My eyes fell to my double. She had all of my persona, I knew, her greatness hidden under that demure, melancholy mask. I was fascinated and disgusted, watching through her eyes when she used one of my Metal Boxes. Everything was so fragile, so temporary, so chaotic. Foolish.
"Not for long," I whispered to myself as I poured all of my skill one night into another creation.
One way or another, we would flee this world, for I had seen our doom. We would not be annihilated easily. I had sworn it.
"Whether you wish it or no, Princess Zelda, you shall be great."