Author's Note:
Hello, this is Pendy aka the author of this little fanfiction. I probably won't be consistent with writing and may forget but I'll do my best to actually keep up with this story. ANYWAY these are basically the result of a lot of writing practice and self fuffilling fan service. If you couldn't already tell, Dillon is the star. I chose to write about Dillon because really, who else has done so? Dillon is an awesome character and the games he comes from (imo) are really well done and made. It's such a shame that the games are pretty underrated and, well, don't have a fan base. I hope that by writing these one shots, I can give at least some attention to Dillon.
For those who haven't played the games (which is most of you), the series is about Dillon and his partner/brother in arms Rus defending the frontier from Grock Monsters (basically golem rocks) and keeping each village's life stock (aka the Scrogs which are like white pigs) safe from said Grocks. There will be spoilers from both games on occasion, but there shouldn't be a whole lot considering the games themselves are very basic story wise. There's also some headcanons, non canon shipping a (I'M LOOKING AT YOU METALUCY!), references to other Smash Fics (as well as references to the Smash Campus RP group on Tumblr) and downright ridicioulous insanity depending on what I feel like writing. There may be big feels too. It depends on what mood I'm feeling.
Anyway enough blabber, I hope you enjoy!
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Chapter 1: Assist Life
Being in an unfamiliar setting with unfamiliar folks isn't usually out of place for someone like me but I've entered a whole new level of unfamiliarity. I'm glad that my partner got to at least be by my side throughout all this, but I can't help but feel homesick anyway. There isn't much I can do about that, but I can at least hope that me being an assistant to the fighters brawling one another will get me and my partner paid as handsomely as they promised.
I found out about this tournament after Russ and I went into hiding from the public again, which wasn't too long ago. The two of us were just living in the shadows when one night I found myself somewhere I've never been. In front of me were two, floating hands who had told me about this tournament and had wanted me to become a fighter. I wasn't interested until they mentioned the reward piece (which of course is the cash). So, my goal was to be a fighter alongside the rest, but, in order for me to even be a fighter in the first place, I had to win in a fight against a veteran fighter. Needless to say I lost, but it was a close match between myself and the foreign blue spiky hedgehog. I forgot what his name was...
Anyway, I got lucky to be an assisting fighter to help out whenever summoned on the battlefield. I'll take what I can get. Besides, I'm honestly kinda glad I didn't become a fighter; all that extra attention and press is the last thing I need. I just want to live a simple life with my pal. Sure, I'll get less money but it's getting the money is what actually counts. I guess I also feel a little left out, but it's for the best.
Speaking of the fighters, I remembered something from a couple hours ago that just is more reason to be content as an assistant.
While minding my own business across the mansion (Russ was reading some stuff in our suite), I took a glance at a couple of young fighters discussing the hate mail they've been getting from folks all around. The word clone kept being repeated in each of those letters. One was dressed in all black with black wings and a black toga while the other was dressed in all blue with long blue hair and blue eyes. The blue lass mirrors the appearance of another fighter while the black angel contrasted the lighter doppelgänger I've seen around before. I kept my distance and decided to watch them from afar. I can't remember the exact conversation word by word, but it was a bit like this.
"You know Lucina, all this hate mail is really starting to get old." The dark angel said aloud.
"I just don't understand how people can be this mean," The lady in blue, aka Lucina responded. "I mean, I may fight similarly to the Hero King but he knows I'm fighting under the name Lucina, not Marth. The names I've been called and the amount of insults thrown at me through these letters are really disheartening. He's gotten really worried for my safety, actually."
"Honestly these people shouldn't be surprised that I fight similarly to Pitty Pat," The dark angel responded. "I was created in a mirror and came to life because of him. Gee, no wonder why I'm like my twin. What a bunch of immature whiners. They just can't see that I'm the better Pit."
I listened in for a while before I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around and saw a familiar glove wielding fighter dressed in green and black spouting a couple of bruises on his face. Little Mac is what he calls himself, mainly because of his size compared to some of the other fighters.
"I know it might not be my place to say anything but I don't think you should be snooping around. I know I wouldn't like it if other people invaded my privacy." Little Mac says as that one blonde hair fighter walks in the room in just his underwear before he ends up tripping on his own feet, collapsing to the ground near Lucina's legs.
I nodded in response to Little Mac so I could to try and forget that he was really feeling it...at least I won't have to be remembered as a laughing stock among men and women. I didn't forget though. I walked away to continue minding my own business to see Mac following me, by my left side.
"You don't talk much, do you?" Mac asked.
"..." I just stared at him.
"You know," he started, putting on a smile. "If you're feeling bad about not being a fighter, I know you feel. Last tournament, I was an assisting fighter. But one thing I learned is that there's always a next time. Maybe next tournament I'll get to face you on the battlefield." He paused as we walked to our suites (which happened to be next to each other), waiting before continuing. "But I guess, being a fighter is also a big responsibility. You don't get much attention has an assistant but when you become a fighter it's a whole different ball game. Everyone expects you to be unique, strong, and pretty much as perfect as you can be. It's why some fighters get more hate on them then others, because some just don't fit the image of near perfection."
Seeing Lucina and Dark Pit discuss their hate mail only proved my point that I'm better off assisting then fighting on my own terms, knowing full well that everyone would just label me a clone and not know me as the man who protects the frontier from starving just because of how similarly I fought like Sonic...so that's his name. And by similar, I mean, he's much faster and lighter with his attacks while I'm more of a heavy hitter. Point is we have more differences than similarities, but I digress.
"I know I'm just rambling but I just wanted to you know," Little Mac added. "Help out a fellow assistant I mean. I'm here for you if you ever wanna talk, I guess." Little Mac is a kind fella I'll admit, but he's no Russ.
