Some distance away from all the usual commotion of the Smash Mansion, one lone figure stood on the roof, staring off into the horizon. The figure's metallic skin shone in the sunlight, remaining still even as a breeze picked up. Down below, a figure with pale blond hair and a long red sword was chatting animatedly with a white-skinned woman in blue.

The figure continued to linger there on the roof, still gazing intently into the distance. It stood there, its arms placed firmly on its hips, not that it necessarily used its arms. But it was not for admiration of the view that it continued to look. In fact, it was deep in thought. It stood perfectly still as memories flowed in its mind, twisting and turning and leading back to where it was in the present.

I am Starman.

I serve Master Giygas.

…

I… served Master Gigyas.

He's gone now.

Images of those four children flashed before the Starman's vision. It had faced them before, with some of its cohorts. They had been strong, much stronger than their intelligence had implied. But in spite of this, the Apple of Enlightenment's prophecy would not be carried out. They were young, inexperienced. Master Giygas' will would be carried out!

The Starman recalled the encounter vividly. It had been stationed at the Stonehenge base with three others of its kind. Their orders were simple: the Chosen Four were to be eliminated on sight. The sun was just about to go down when they first arrived.

…

The Chosen Four were strong. Much stronger than they had thought. And they were woefully unprepared.

Their onslaught was fierce and unrelenting. Sparks flew and ice particles shot out from their hands. An icicle speared one of the Starmen in the chest, metal groaning as it tipped over and laid still on the ground. One of the boys, dressed all in white and his hair tied back, teleported behind another and kicked it in the head, deep cracks spidering across its visor.

Very soon, only one was left. Its stance, normally tall and unwavering, was hunched and exhausted, and there was an odd numbness in its left leg. The last thing the Starman remembered was the boy in the red cap, his arms outstretched, as bright lights and deafening sounds assaulted its senses. There was a sudden sharp, crunching pain in its back, and the world had faded to black, as if it was falling asleep.

It was asleep, in a sense. It had lain there, inactive but still conscious, for a long time. But at some point, there was a deep ringing sound in its head that made its whole body shudder. In its last moments of consciousness, the Starman realized it could only mean one thing: Giygas had fallen. It was over.

The Starman gave one final shudder, and then thought no more.

…

…

For how long Starman was out, it did not know. But when it awoke, it found itself in endless darkness, surrounded by a mysterious presence, whose radiating power eclipsed that of even Giygas. It attempted to lift itself up with telekinesis, to face this new entity, but it was still weak from its last battle. The Starman fell back over onto a floor it hadn't even known existed.

You're in a bad way, aren't you? spoke the presence.

"…Who are you?" the Starman had asked.

I am Master Hand. Something deep within the darkness shifted. Giygas has fallen, has he not?

The Starman remained silent.

I can help you.

Some distance away, a light began to shine deep in the shadows. It shone with a brightness that warmed the Starman's cold, metallic skin and filled its core with enough stamina that allowed it to slowly stand up under its own power. As if pulled by an invisible rope, the Starman drew nearer to the light.

A thought occurred to the Starman. Was this a trap? Was it being lured with the promise of aid, of something greater, only to be subjugated while its back was turned? What would Master Giygas think?

…

Master Giygas was gone. Its purpose was to carry out Master Giygas' will. If Master Giygas was gone, what purpose did it have?

The light shone ever brighter. Its glow was very enticing.

Well? asked the presence.

The Starman hesitated. There was something about this entity that spurred doubt in its mind. This life form seemed powerful, but from the way it spoke, it seemed like it was hiding something. Was this a ruse? A plot to lure it in and shatter what little life there was left in it? A spark went off in its brain that told it to resist, to refuse the being's offer. No matter how powerful it seemed, this new presence couldn't possibly help it.

…

But what other choice did it have?

The light was almost blinding now, and what little darkness remained became very still. At last, the Starman surrendered, and let the light fill its vision.

When it awoke once again, it found itself in a room with soft lighting and marble walls, various trophies and odd-looking relics lining the shelves, and a stately wooden desk at the far end. Behind the desk was a large floating white hand, the source of the powerful presence in the darkness.

"Welcome to the Super Smash Brothers tournament," Master Hand had said.

After a series of long talks and plenty of paperwork in Master Hand's office, the Starman was finally given the offer. It would join this Super Smash Brothers tournament as an assistant, to be chosen at random times to use its skills to aid the other participants.

The turn of events was quite shocking to the Starman, an emotion it rarely ever felt. To be given a second chance at life was almost unheard of from Master Giygas. And it was all the more surprising when it was told that two of the Chosen Four would also be participating, one boy as an assistant like the Starman, and another (that boy) as a proper fighter, alongside another boy gifted with the power of PSI.

But once again, what choice did the Starman have? Ever since the fall of Master Giygas, it had no objective to complete, no orders to fulfill except to fight. Simply put, it had no purpose.

Deep down, the very thought was immensely terrifying, a sentiment it chose to keep to itself.

"Very well," said the Starman at last. "I shall serve these Smashers to the best of my ability."

Master Hand beamed. "Excellent!" he declared. "Let me fill out the last of the paperwork, and then you can meet your colleagues!"

The introductions went by smoothly, but otherwise unremarkably. The Starman was never one for interaction with others, only communicating when it dealt with its missions. Nevertheless, when its turn came, it stood and declared its name and origins as all the others had. The large supercomputer shaped like a brain regarded it dispassionately with her single eyeball, but gave no other comment. The boy with glasses, meanwhile, did not meet its gaze. That was fine by the Starman; the last thing it wanted was to be reminded of that fateful day.

Thus, the Starman fulfilled its duties as an Assist Trophy, as their group was called. When its time came, it would teleport onto the platform and fire off powerful psychic energy, with often devastating effects. It was reminded of its work during Giygas' invasion. At last, it had a function, a proper objective! It had been far too long since it had had a true purpose.

…And yet, as the fourth tournament ended and the fifth began, the Starman found itself wanting more.

"Hey. Are you listening to me?"

A sharp, gruff voice abruptly brought the Starman's thoughts back to the present. Samurai Goroh stood there, holding an odd colored liquid in a glass with a straw and umbrella, impatience tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I said, move," he grunted. "You're in my spot."

The Starman turned slightly, sensing the man's thoughts but seemingly unwilling to face him directly. "Samurai Goroh," it said in lieu of a greeting, its telepathic voice cold and detached as usual.

But the samurai, it seemed, was not too keen on small talk. "What're you even doing up here, anyways?"

The Starman was silent as it processed Goroh's question. What're you even doing up here, anyways?

What are you doing up here?

What are you doing here?

It continued to stand and stare rigidly into the horizon. It was no longer engrossed in its own memories, but a new question, one it had kept down for a long time, had begun to ferment and fester and bristle in its mind.

When the Starman was created, its purpose was to serve Giygas. This it knew.

Thanks to the efforts of the Chosen Four, Giygas was gone. This much was certain.

So then, if its purpose was to serve Giygas, and Giygas was gone, then what was its purpose?

Its purpose was to fight, to assist the fighters in the tournament. Use the power instilled in its core to assail and lay waste to any and all who would stand in its path.

But that was different. Assisting was its mission, its duty. But there had to be something more than that. Why would Master Hand choose it specifically? If it had no purpose, then… then why was it here?

Why was it here?

Why was it here?

"…Why am I here?"

Goroh frowned. "Why're you repeating what I just said?"

The Starman levitated itself to face the racer directly, a fairly laborious process, given that it was so used to teleporting to move around. Samurai Goroh took a step back, wary as to where the conversation was going.

"What is my purpose?"

Goroh blinked. "Your what, now?"

"My purpose."

The samurai opened his mouth to say that its purpose was to get out of his way because it was in his spot, if you please, but quickly shut it as he realized just what the Starman meant. "Like, your life's purpose, or…?"

"Yes." Despite the impassive tone of its voice, there was still a hint of patronization in the Starman's answer.

Samurai Goroh exhaled. "I dunno, I—I dunno. I don't know why you're asking me the existential questions all of a sudden." He paused, noticing the way the Starman was looking at him, almost expectantly. "I don't know! Do I look like a self-help book? Jeez!"

The Starman sighed, as much as a robotic alien could sigh. "I see." A new wind blew by, taking some stray leaves with it. "I suppose it was absurd, coming to someone of your way of thinking for such answers." When Goroh did not respond, it continued. "At any rate, I must be going now. Farewell." And by that sendoff, the Starman disappeared, a small spark traveling along the ground the only hint it had ever been there.

Samurai Goroh huffed as he took his seat in his ambiguously rightful spot. "Yeah, whatever," he grouched, taking a sip of his drink. "Weirdo robot, asking me about its place in the universe or whatever… I mean, honestly… it was absurd to ask me about something like that…"

…

…

Samurai Goroh suddenly got up, throwing his drink to the ground.

"Hey! What's that supposed to mean?!"

The Starman rematerialized in the mansion halls, just a few paces away from the main lounge. Its door was open just enough to see that the room seemed empty, but a quick telepathic probe told it otherwise; namely, that there were in fact three people in the room. In fact, it hadn't even needed to probe, for a certain high-pitched voice was resonating from inside.

"Oh, Dinobeast was very big, fifteen Rikis tall! Riki's sidekicks were very worried!" declared the voice. "But no need to worry! Heropon stepped forward to save day!"

The Starman teleported a bit further into the room to get a better look. The star-like creature Starfy was present, sitting next to the Sablé Prince. Both children were listening intently to the story being told by a short, plump, egg-shaped creature with wing-like appendages, evidently Riki, wearing a vest and carrying a strange weapon on his back.

"Dinobeast was very tricky," continued Riki, pantomiming the vicious beast he spoke of. "Very strong, too. But Heropon was trickier and stronger! Riki swing and miss! Dinobeast miss and swing! Dinobeast right on top of Riki!" Starfy and the Sablé Prince leaned in, hanging on to every word.

"But Riki was not afraid. Not one bit! Heropon wait, and sidekicks work together to distract Dinobeast. Then, Dinobeast's back is turned, and…" Riki paused for dramatic effect, letting his audience absorb his words. "Riki deal decisive, finishing blow! Nyakapow!" He took out his weapon and swung it down on the floor as though he were smiting the world's smallest Dinobeast.

Starfy vigorously applauded, while the Sablé Prince simply looked confused. "Hmm… that's not what happened the way Dunban told it."

"Oh, really?" asked Riki, turning to the young prince. "What did Dun-Dun say?"

"If I recall correctly, he said you got knocked out and that a girl by the name of Melia finished it off."

Riki faltered, but only for a moment. "Ah! Well, yes, er—Riki was…" He coiled a loose string on his vest around his finger. "Riki was simply playing dead! Let sidekicks have time in the spotlight! Uhm…"

Neither members of the audience seemed particularly convinced.

"Well!" said Riki, clapping his hands together. "Riki suppose that's enough storytelling for one day." He picked up his weapon. "Heropon has a very busy day ahead of him."

Starfy got up. "Thank you for the storytime!" he chirped as he bowed slightly. He toddled out of the lounge, with the Sablé Prince following close behind. Neither of them gave the Starman a second glance as they left.

As Riki began to gather his things, his gaze flicked upwards to meet the alien that had been in the room all this time. He leapt back a bit in surprise as he registered that the Starman was present. "A-ah! Starman! Come for Riki's storytelling time?"

The Starman teleported further into the room, now standing in the center. "Riki," it intoned by way of greeting.

The Nopon shifted from foot to foot. "Ah… hello."

The Starman simply stood there, studying Riki. With his simple clothing, small stature, and weapon that looked largely ineffective, his appearance alone cast doubt on the story. But then again, it supposed, Riki did seem fairly driven, and perhaps it could get some answers from him about who it was, and why it was here. It couldn't hurt to ask. "This Dinobeast… you claim to have slain it?"

Riki perked up a bit. "Oh, yes!" he declared, saluting with one of his wings. "Riki fought tough battle, but thanks to Riki's sidekicks, we win!"

"I see." The Starman cogitated on Riki's words. "This is your purpose, then?"

Riki blinked. "…What?"

"Your purpose."

"I…" Riki scratched the side of his head. "Riki is not sure what friend means."

The Starman was silent for a moment. "Your purpose," it repeated. "Based on your story, your purpose in your world would be to vanquish your enemies? To lay waste to beasts that are larger than yourself for the thrill of battle?"

Riki's eyes widened as the meaning behind the Starman's words dawned on him. "Ahhh. Starman asks if Riki fights for personal gain?" He shook his head. "No. That not Riki's purpose."

"Then what is?" asked the Starman.

The Nopon sighed as he waddled over to a chair to sit. "Riki was chosen as Heropon by chief of village. At that time, Riki had large debt to village. If Riki defeat Dinobeast, debt will be repaid. With help of friends, Riki beat Dinobeast and repay debt! …But then Riki have new debt, and chief send Riki on new adventure with friends to repay new debt!" His gaze grew distant. "Riki saw many things on adventure. Met many new people. Fought many bad guys, too. Not at all what Riki expected. The adventure was much bigger than Riki thought. Bigger than debt, bigger than village, bigger than Dinobeast, maybe even bigger than Bionis… Was much more about Shulk and Dundun."

"Then why?" asked the Starman. "Why continue if you had no personal investment in the journey?"

"Two reasons." Riki gave a faint, but tender smile. "One—friend no leave friend behind. Riki was scared, terrified. But Shulk is Heropon's friend, and Heropon no leave friends behind, no matter what. Two—to protect wifeypon and littlepon." He glanced briefly at the window. "Hom Hom friends fight to make their own future. Riki fight for his own future, too. But mostly, Riki fight to secure littlepon's future. That is Riki's purpose." The Nopon slid off the chair and made to depart. "Riki hope that answer question. If not, then perhaps Starman can find answers by itself." And with those words, Riki left to leave the Starman alone in the lounge.

The alien stood there, staring at the spot where the Nopon once stood. Riki's words echoed inside its head until there was just a dull ache. He had spoken so earnestly, with such conviction that that was his goal, his purpose in life, the reason he was alive. A storm of emotions brewed in its brain—envy, envy at Riki for being so sure of his place in his world, for having a purpose; fear, fear of lacking purpose and of an unneeded existence, alone in that endless void; and yearning, yearning for a reason for being, a true purpose.

Purpose…

"What is my purpose…?" asked the Starman aloud.

No one answered.

The Starman bowed ever so slightly, replaying its conversation with Riki again. What had he said? Hom Hom friends fight to make their own future… He spoke of that young man with the red sword it had seen just that day. He had gotten up and seized his own destiny. So then…

At once, something inside the Starman clicked. Its internal circuitry hissed, and it straightened up. It felt as though a mind boggling puzzle had finally been solved.

"If I am not given a purpose… I shall simply find one."

The Starman teleported out of the lounge, leaving no indication it had ever been inside.

When the Starman reappeared, it found itself in a hallway on the first floor. The wooden floors, once pristine and new like a well-pressed suit and tie on the first day of a new job, were now dulled and creaking, speckled with the age-old muddy footprints of those that traversed the corridors. There was no sound, save for the gentle hum of machinery coming from another room.

The Starman drew closer, peering further into the room. It was cramped, dusty, and the singular light bulb that hung from the ceiling was dim, which, combined with the graying walls and flooring, made the room seem much darker than it was. Stacks of letters were arranged neatly by a mail chute, which periodically coughed out more letters into a pile. A bulletin board, ever so slightly crooked, displayed in multicolored but faded letters:

Plea_e ke_p our mailroo_ tidy!

A lone figure wearing a green jacket was sitting in a chair slumped over a desk, their shoulders rhythmically rising and falling. A stainless steel thermos lay next to them, dripping with coffee.

The Starman scanned the area with its psychic powers, recognizing the figure as Nikki, another of its fellow assistants. She was clearly asleep, judging on how she hadn't even moved as the Starman entered the room. The mail chute groaned as it spat out yet more letters, threatening to spill them out onto the floor.

It did not seem prudent, reasoned the Starman, to fall asleep in such a place. The mail would be backed up, and the dust would be detrimental to her health. Or at least, so it assumed, as it personally didn't need to breathe. So, it extended its telepathic powers to make contact with her mind (a relatively easy task, given that she was asleep), and—

"Awaken."

"Gwuh-huh?" Nikki twitched and rose, the skin on her face peeling off the desk. "Yeah, I'm… I'm running the mail as fast… as fast I…" She yawned and groggily rubbed at her eyes. "I'm taking my break now, so…" She finally straightened up and turned to meet the cold, expressionless visor of the Starman, a foot away from her face.

"Nikki."

"Oh, sh—!" Nikki nearly fell out of her chair. "Wh-what the—Starman?!" She paused to regain her breath. "I was gonna say 'sheet'—I mean—how—" She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Starman, what in the world are you doing here?"

"I have come seeking my purpose." The Starman stood straight and tall, the scant light in the room glinting off its steel body.

"Your purpose." repeated Nikki, adjusting her red-rimmed glasses.

"Yes."

Nikki opened her mouth, closed it, and decided she was not feeling particularly curious that day. "Okay. Okay." She looked around the mailroom, her eyes falling on the pile of letters on the desk. "You can start by putting those into the sorting station." She gestured at a desk with shelves stacked almost to the ceiling. "Just look at where they're addressed, and put them into the matching slot."

"Affirmative." The Starman teleported over to the sorting station and telekinetically picked up a letter addressed to someone living in the far-off land of Shiveria and placed it on a shelf with a mushroom symbol attached to it.

Nikki nodded in acknowledgement and turned back to her desk. The two worked in silence for a while, the only sound being the mail chute sending down more letters.

"…So, uhm, Starman," began Nikki in an attempt to make conversation. "You're here to 'seek your purpose'?"

"Yes." The Starman did not turn around from its station.

"Mm-hmm." Nikki tapped her fingers together. "So you came here?"

"Correct."

"Ah. Okay then." She paused. "I, uh, I really do appreciate you coming to help me. It's not as hectic as it was during the Smash Ballot—" she suppressed a small shudder— "but it still gets pretty busy, what with people sending letters to and from their homes. So, y'know, thanks for helping!"

The Starman did not respond. Somehow, the room got even quieter.

Nikki fiddled with the temple of her glasses. She was tangentially familiar with the Starman, enough to know who it was and what it did in its home world, and based on what she'd heard, it mostly left others alone, choosing to stay in some corner at socials. To see it come to the mailroom, with no hint of malicious intent, asking about its purpose, was very weird indeed. At that moment, Nikki decided that she was, in fact, feeling curious that day.

"…Do you want to know what my purpose is?" she asked.

That got the Starman's attention. "Your purpose?" repeated the Starman.

Nikki nodded, turning in her chair that the Starman realized at that moment was a swivel chair. "Do you know why I took this job?"

"It is your purpose," answered the Starman immediately.

"I'm getting to that part!" laughed Nikki. "I've always… I've always held this fascination with handwritten letters. Like, where I'm from, most people text or send emails if they want to communicate." She stood up from her chair. "That someone will take time out of their day to sit down and write how they feel with a pen and paper, write down their perspectives in a material form… that feeling is just unparalleled.

"Letters will travel thousands upon thousands of miles to reach who they're addressed to," continued Nikki, gesturing at the fortuitous letters that spilled from the chute. "Even farther than that in this world. It's so… relieving, to me, that all across different walks of life, people want to continue the art of writing personal, intimate correspondence like this. I feel… I feel like it's like keeping a little piece of your life, documented on paper." Her eyes shone with conviction and hope. "That's what I think I'm here for. People appreciate these things, and I want to make sure they show their innermost feelings, no matter who or where they are! Because it just makes me feel fulfilled, you know?"

The room was very quiet. The Starman stared at a letter it was levitating, addressed to Pastoria City. It did not look at Nikki, but it paid close attention to her every word.

"Ah, but listen to me," said Nikki, flopping back in her swivel chair. "Rambling on like that when there's work to be done. Sorry for bothering you!"

"No," said the Starman, putting the letter in its appropriate slot. "It was very helpful."

Nikki bowed her head in response. "Well, I'm glad I was able to answer your question." She turned back to her desk in her chair. "Guess it's back to work for us, then!"

But work would have to wait, for at that moment a bell mounted high on the wall rang in a peal, signalling the beginning of lunch break. Nikki sighed and wiped at the lens of her glasses. "Oh, thank heavens, finally." She took out a lunchbox and turned to the Starman. "So, what are you having?"

"I do not need to eat," said the Starman. It teleported away from the sorting station, reappearing near the door. "I must be going now."

Nikki paused as she lifted a forkful of risotto to her mouth. "Ah… you're leaving already?"

"Yes." The Starman remained by the door. "This mail sorting… it is not sure if it is my purpose. Possibly. Possibly not. But, if nothing else, your words have given me a hint as to where my own purpose may lie."

Nikki stared at the robot for a bit. "Not for you, huh? Well, I guess that's fair. Uhm… good luck seeking your purpose, I suppose!"

The Starman did not respond. It lingered at the door for a moment, then teleported away, leaving Nikki alone in the mailroom.

Nikki sighed lightly as she turned back to her desk. Her eyes widened slightly as she glanced at the sorting station and noticed that each piece of mail that had dropped in was neatly piled in a slot. She was abruptly struck by the feeling that she didn't know the Starman at all. She found herself wondering if anybody, even Ness and Jeff, truly did.

…

Maybe. Maybe not. But, she supposed as she sipped from her thermos, perhaps it wouldn't hurt to try someday.

The Starman reappeared on the second floor. The hallway was empty, save for a passing Mii, idly sweeping at a corner. The window next to the Starman was open, bringing in both a refreshing flow of air and a steady stream of sunlight. On the far side of the hall was a set of French doors that led out to a balcony overlooking the side of the building, from which anyone could sit and observe the hustle and bustle from above. One of the doors had been left slightly ajar, indicating that someone was currently doing just that.

Teleporting closer, the alien paused just in front of the door to observe the observer. The figure was facing away from the Starman, unmoving and focused on something below, but there was no mistaking the red armor and long blond ponytail that blew dramatically behind him, even in the light breeze that would barely carry a stray leaf on the ground.

"Zero."

The robot lifted his head at the sound of his name. He whirled around, Z-Saber in hand, but relaxed slightly when he saw the speaker. "Oh… Starman," he said in lieu of a greeting. "I didn't really expect to see you here. Do you need anything?"

"What are you doing?" asked the Starman, skipping any and all pleasantries.

Zero frowned slightly, either at his question being answered with another question or at his own answer. "I've been… people-watching." Somehow, the word people did not sound plural at all. "Mostly to see if there's any trouble around."

"I see." The Starman teleported and reappeared right in front of the railing, gazing down at the people below. "May I join you?"

"I… suppose." If Zero was annoyed by the Starman inviting itself in, he didn't show it. After a brief pause he simply returned to his post on the balcony right next to the alien to regard the pedestrians below.

The path, they observed, was very busy that day. Marth was present, walking along in a serious conversation with Meta Knight. To their left, Bowser strolled past with his son, who held a large lollipop shaped oddly like Mario's head, biting off an ear with a crunch. Off to the side, Yuri Kozukata sat in the grass, idly tinkering with her camera. But what caught Zero's attention the most was an older man in a lab coat walking very quickly past the scene, with hands in his pockets and eyes shifting furtively to and fro, as if he was worried that anyone else present would suddenly strike at him.

The Starman beheld the scene laid before it. Nothing really seemed out of place or peculiar. But Zero, it noted, seemed to think otherwise. It didn't need a mental probe to sense the mistrust coming off him. His mouth was drawn into a thin straight line, his eyes were narrowed, and his hands were holding onto the railing in a vicelike grip. The Starman had only picked up on such animosity once before, on the face of Master Giygas' lieutenant as he glowered from within his spider-shaped mech.

But this was not the time to ponder such things. Instead, it opted to simply get what it came here for.

"Zero."

Zero blinked, snapping out of his ponderings. "Hm?"

"What is your purpose?"

"My purpose?"

"Yes."

Zero turned back to the railing. "To strive for peace between humans and Reploids," he replied almost automatically. "To vanquish evil, wherever it may be." He frowned slightly, noticing that Dr. Wily was no longer in sight. "Wherever it may be…"

"I see." The two sat together in thoughtful silence.

…

…

"We are quite alike, you and I."

Zero turned to the Starman. "Hm?"

"We are both robots."

Zero nodded in acknowledgement. "That we are," he hummed.

"Yes."

"Mmm."

There was a silence as this knowledge set in. A stray breeze blew past, the branches of the tree nodding sagely.

"My creator… is no longer with us," said the Starman suddenly. "Without him, I now lack purpose. Without him… I am nothing."

"Oh," mumbled Zero. "I'm… I'm sorry."

"It is alright," replied the Starman. "It was a long time ago."

The balcony suddenly became very quiet. The Starman continued to stare fixedly at nothing in particular.

"What about you?" asked the Starman. "The being that created you… do they still live?"

Zero did not respond. "You said you were looking for a purpose?" he asked instead.

"Yes."

"Well, let me give you some advice, if you'll let me." He, too, stared out over the balcony into the middle distance. "I don't really know much about your creator, but… you can't tie your sense of self to whoever they were."

There was yet more silence. The Starman bent down ever so slightly.

"It's… it's just…" Zero gestured with his hands, trying to find the right words. "Like, your creator instilled that programming in you, and now they're dead. But… the fact they're dead doesn't mean you have to be stagnant. Am… Am I making sense so far?"

"Yes," said the Starman, its voice suddenly very quiet. "Please continue."

Zero nodded. "What I'm trying to say is… you're more than just your programming. You don't have to stick by who told you to do what. That's the beauty of this world. You can carve out your own destiny, no matter what that may be. All you have to do is ask yourself: 'Who am I, and what do I want?'"

The Starman was now fully facing Zero, studying him with an unreadable expression. "I see."

"…I mean, that's just my way of seeing it," added Zero. "Like, it's different for different kinds of people. But I hope it helps, at least."

"It did," said the Starman. "Thank you, Zero."

The android gave a small smile in response. "Well. Glad I was able to."

Feeling that there was nothing else to say, the Starman teleported back to the French doors. "Oh, are you leaving?" asked Zero.

"Yes," answered the Starman. "I believe I know where to go next. Farewell, Zero."

Zero simply waved as the Starman teleported away to parts unknown. He didn't really know much about the Starman, only that it was a soldier of some creator that was presumably defeated a long time ago. He hoped that it would be able to find its own purpose, hopefully as a force for good.

…

Zero, on the other hand, knew exactly what his purpose was.

To vanquish evil, wherever it may be…

And luckily for him, he also knew exactly where evil would be.

"Mark my words, doctor… whatever you're planning, you won't get away with it."

Outside, the day had turned so peaceful, even the birdsong seemed a bit more soothing. In the courtyard, Spring Man, Isaac, and Phosphora were lying face-up in the grass, staring up at the sky and having a chinwag with each other.

"And, you know, to this very day, we never were able to get the shoe polish off that wall," concluded Isaac, finishing off a really rather riveting tale. "Dr. Wright ended up just hanging a painting over that spot."

"Really?" asked Phosphora, blowing aside a leaf that had landed on her forehead. "You'd think he'd pick something a little more… stylish?"

Isaac could only shrug. "Well, what can you do? He's never really had a good eye for art. He's always been more of a practicality-first type of guy."

"I know this girl," put in Spring Man. "Twintelle. You've probably seen her around. She's like, the exact opposite of that. Like, super stylish. She'd have probably redecorated the whole room around that stain, and then some."

Phosphora grinned. "Wow, I— oh, gods. Oh, imagine her with Shadow and Shovel Knight and they had to redo that little room they did!"

Isaac smiled, gazing up at a passing cloud. "Like, she'd probably get silk curtains—"

"And they're black!" said Phosphora. "To reflect his tortured soul," she added in a voice that only partly resembled that of the hedgehog in question, and greatly resembled that of Ganondorf with a sore throat.

Spring Man chuckled. "And then, like, vinyl flooring all over!"

"Do you think Shadow has a leather couch?"

"Ooh, ooh! What if those little Nookling kids join in—"

"And they put it all nice and cute—"

"Like a little dollhouse!"

The image of Shadow the Hedgehog, sitting cross-legged on a leather couch with black silk curtains caused Isaac to dissolve into a giggling fit, which in turn caused Phosphora to burst in her own gales of laughter, and Spring Man, too, began to laugh as only he could, unrestrained and spirited. The laughter died down as a wind picked up over the grass.

Isaac was the first to speak. "…Do you think we have a chance?"

Spring Man tilted his head. "What?"

"Y'know." Isaac rotated his hand as if waiting for Spring Man to finish the sentence. When he didn't, Isaac continued, "If we, like, have a chance to get in next time. Someday."

Spring Man was quiet for a moment. "Oh, yeah," he mumbled.

"Are you just saying that, or do you actually think any of us have a shot?" asked Isaac.

"Ah…" Spring Man opened his mouth to say something, but just as quickly shut it. "I mean, you definitely have a chance! You're pretty popular nowadays! And I kinda have a shot, also! And—and Phosphora, she… she could…"

He trailed off as reality set in. "Um. I mean…"

"Nope," said Phosphora, saying aloud what no one else wanted to admit.

"I—I mean, you could!" stammered Spring Man. "Like, if the higher-ups really—"

But Phosphora simply waved the spring-armed man off, her face hidden at that angle. "Nah, nah, it's fine. I know I'm pretty low on the social ladder. They'd sooner dig up Hades or Medusa than go for me."

There was a long, solmen pause. Isaac, feeling unsure of himself for some reason, chose to busy himself by playing with a blade of grass by his left eye.

"…Gods. Imagine if Waluigi gets in before any of us," said Phosphora at last. "Can you just imagine?"

Isaac gagged, a not entirely voluntary action. "Ugh, please don't. He'd be even more unbearable than he usually is."

Spring Man toyed with his pompadour. "I hate to say it, but… yeah. He'd… he wouldn't be classy about it at all."

"Mmm." A thought occurred to Isaac. "Imagine if, like, Flies and Hand or the Burrowing Snagret got in."

Phosphora bit back a snort of laughter. "Oh, geez! I'd enjoy that for the look on his stupid face alone."

"I mean, Flies and Hand has a flyswatter. It's basically a swordfighter already!"

"Like Duck Hunt 2.0!"

"Yeah, but the Burrowing Snagret, though… that would be genuinely kinda cool. I could dig it."

Another pause. Then—

"Wait."

"You—"

"Aaayyyyy—"

They all shared a laugh, even Phosphora in spite of herself. The clouds drifted lazily by.

The Starman reappeared in a flash on the third floor. The late-afternoon sun shone on the hall, bathing it in a soft orange light. Zero's words still weighed heavily on its mind, the question impatiently buzzing in its processor. Who am I, and what do I want?

I am Starman.

I want…

I want…

…

…What do I want?

The sunlight streamed golden through the window.

I want…

I want…

…

To feel… needed.

I want to be needed.

I want to feel useful. To be useful.

To be…

The Starman shuddered. In serving Giygas, it had been useful, needed, even crucial. But here, it was… it was still very useful, but there was something missing, some aspect its previous work had that its daily tasks lacked.

Nikki's words rose to the surface of its memory. I want to make sure they show their innermost feelings, no matter who or where they are! Because it just makes me fulfilled…!

…

Unfulfilled. That's what it was.

In that brief moment, the Starman decided it would rather face one thousand of the Chosen Four than feel like this again.

The Starman teleported away, the small spark betraying its location traveling quicker than before, more erratic and almost panicked in its movement. It did not know where it was going, only that it needed to be somewhere, anywhere, somewhere where it could be useful, practical, handy, of service, productive.

I want to feel needed. I need to feel needed.

The Starman reappeared in an area that was technically familiar to it, but it had never truly noticed until now. Music that it couldn't quite catch floated out from behind the glass doors in front of it, leading to a large room, its walls lined to shelves filled with strange hats, colorful costumes, rows and rows of comestibles of all shapes and sizes, and cases of compact discs marked with odd symbols and unfamiliar-looking people.

It teleported further inside to investigate. It was a lively tune playing from the speakers above, an upbeat, jazzy theme with a piano as the leading melody. One of the CD covers held an image of a white dog, sitting on a tree stump and playing a guitar.

"Dum-de-dum-dum da-da-da-da-da da-dee-dum-dee-dum… do do do do hmm hmm hmm da-dee-da-dee-da…"

The sound took the Starman by surprise, but only for a brief moment. To its left, long pink ears, bobbing to and fro and twitching rhythmically, could be seen just behind a row of cat-shaped hoods.

The Starman teleported a bit closer. Sure enough, Baito was there, his back turned, humming softly as he readjusted a line of foodstuffs.

"Baito."

The rabbit leapt up in fright, a quick movement of his paws saving the snacks from tumbling to the floor. "D'whuhuh?! Who's—?!" He spun around to see the Starman, standing rigidly in front of him. "Oh—oh. Um, hi, Starman!" Baito clutched his chest. "Kinda caught me by surprise there…"

The Starman did not respond.

"So, uh, what brings you here?" asked Baito. "Buying something? Perusing our wares? Ooh! Or maybe you're here to try out one of the old badge catchers?" He gestured eagerly towards a crane machine in the corner, its paint slightly faded by the passage of time.

"No."

"…Oh. Well, why are you here, then? Ahhh, not that I don't want you here, no! You're always welcome here! It's just that you, like, never actually come in, so I was just—"

"I want," said the Starman, cutting off Baito's rambling, "to be useful."

Baito blinked, not expecting to be interrupted, especially not with such a response. "You wha?"

"I want to be useful."

The rabbit's shoulders slumped. "…Are you asking if you can help me, or…?"

"If that is the way to be of use again, then yes."

Baito clapped his paws together. "Okay!" he said at last, not feeling the least bit disturbed. "Well, um, you can start by…" He shaded his face with an ear as he scanned the store. "Oh! You can start by bringing in some CDs from the back." He gestured to a set of blue doors. Just a box or two should do."

Without another word, the Starman teleported away, and reemerged in the back room. It was dusty, but not quite as much as it was in the mailroom. It suddenly occurred to the Starman that this was most likely what Baito was doing when not helping the Smashers during a battle. From what it could gather based on his attitude, he seemed very excited about his line of work.

He, at least, seems to know his purpose.

But this was not the time to ponder such things. There was work to be done. The Starman telekinetically picked up a box and teleported back into the main area.

When it reappeared, it noticed Baito waving goodbye to Olimar and three Pikmin, the former holding a bundle of snacks in his arms and the latter each carrying a golden ticket.

"I have retrieved the box," the Starman announced, gently depositing it in front of Baito.

"Great!" Baito snapped his fingers. He carefully peeled off the tape sealing the box and lifted out a piece of its contents. "Ooh, Jump Up, Super Star! That's a good one!"

The Starman peered inside. The cover depicted a woman with flowing brown hair wearing a sparkling red halter dress with a matching hat, singing in front of a microphone to an unseen crowd.

"It's one of the hottest songs to come from the Metro Kingdom!" explained Baito. "The mayor Pauline and her band play every year at the New Donk City Festival! The last time they did it, Mario was there, and they really rolled out the red carpet for him!" The rabbit's eyes shone with admiration. "Ohmigosh. If Pauline came into the shop one day, I don't know what I'd do!" To the Starman's mild disbelief, Baito began to float a few inches off the ground, surrounded by a heavenly aura, pure bliss etched onto his face. "I might faint!"

"You feel very fervently about this subject," observed the Starman.

"Yep!" replied Baito proudly. "Stuff like this is my passion! When I hear about these guys and all their feats, I just get so psyched up!" There was a certain fire in the rabbit's eyes, the same light the Starman had seen in Nikki and Zero.

"I see." The two were quiet for a moment, the New Donk chorus filling the space between.

"This is your purpose, then."

Baito placed his paws behind his head. "Well, I uh… you could say that, yeah!"

The Starman remained silent. The music above changed pitch as it neared its end.

"So… what's your purpose in life?" asked Baito.

The Starman bent down slightly, choosing to focus on the floor. "I… do not know."

"Well, that's fine, too," said the rabbit. "Just keep looking, and I'm sure you'll find it!"

"I have searched most of the day," said the Starman, straightening up once again. "I assist the Smashers when called upon. I have asked myself what fulfills me. I have asked myself what I want. Analyzing this, I have come to the conclusion that what I want most is—"

"To feel useful," said Baito at the same time as the Starman.

The Starman gazed into the distance. "I served Master Giygas long ago. He's gone now. I don't… I feel so empty now." It sighed, a strange metallic sound. "Without Master Giygas, I feel unneeded. I just want… to feel needed, I suppose. To feel useful. To be useful."

"So you came here," said Baito after a pause.

"Correct."

Baito thought for a moment. "You say your purpose is to help people, right?"

"I want to feel useful."

"Well, you can just work here!" declared Baito. "You can be, like, the new part-timer!"

"Work… here?" repeated the Starman.

Baito nodded. "Yeah! You said you wanted to feel useful, right? Well, what's more useful than helping around the Trophy Shop?"

"Trophies are no longer sold here," said the Starman.

"It's a catchy name!" said Baito with an impatient wave of his paw. "I know it's not the most glamorous thing in the world, but you'd still be helping, even if it's just a little place like this!" He paused, waiting for an answer, and continued when none came. "Don't worry. I'll teach you everything I know. And I don't like to toot my own horn, but I know a lot! Ooh!" he said, pounding a fist into his open palm. "Maybe you could be like one of those information kiosks! Whaddya say?"

The Starman stared at Baito's extended paw for a long time. It was not the transcendental greater purpose that it had under Master Giygas, nor was it the newer purpose that it had imagined. Even now, something nagged at its central processor to refuse its offer.

…

But what other choice did it have?

"Very well."

"Awesome!" exclaimed Baito, still holding out his extended arm.

…

…

"I am physically incapable of shaking your hand," said the Starman.

"…Ah." Baito sheepishly pulled his arm back. "I thought that was just a thing you did. But still, this is amazing! You're a part of the team now!" he exclaimed, clapping both his hands and his ears at once. The Starman thought it wise not to question this. "Now that you're technically official, let me give you a welcome gift!" He produced a marker and name tag from his pocket and began to write. Once done, he stuck it on the Starman's body, just opposite of the black markings. "There you go! Welcome aboard, Starman!"

The Starman stared at its name tag, and at Baito's eager face. "This is gonna be one of those mutually beneficial situations, I promise. You'll be a real big help, I can tell!"

A big help…

"Well, now that you're working for me…" Baito stroked his chin. "Your first duty is to get the large snacks from the backroom. They're big and red, so they're hard to miss. Let's go! Hop to it, now!"

Baito had no sooner given the instructions than the Starman had dutifully teleported away. The dust on the stone ground of the back room barely moved as it reappeared.

…

Would this be fulfilling? Possibly. Possibly not.

But at the very least, the Starman felt truly useful, truly needed. Simply put, it finally had a proper purpose.

For now, this would do. Possibly for now, possibly for a long time to come.

Author's Notes: I'm still alive! Real life has a tendency to interfere with writing, so please be patient.

But Starman! I've been planning to write about it for a long time now, but I often found myself struggling as to where it belong. I guess I, too, was pondering about the Starman's purpose.

But to change the subject, I believe Zero said something about putting a stop to Wily's plans? Maybe we'll see that next chapter...