Shattered Grid

Long has the Morphing Grid been shattered. No power is left that will restore it. All that remains is the battles that will tap into what little energy it has left.

No more good and evil. No balance – only amoral power. Only the glory of victory and the shame of defeat, as warriors across time and space make war, as gods would among mortals.

Many are the colours of those who fight – some colours come more than others. But in the end, it matters not. The colour of their blood which falls upon the ground is the only colour that matters.

The destruction could be worse, for ever disunited, those who tap into the grid can never form engines of destruction. No unity for that which requires legs and arms to join the body. No sword to summon from on high. No monsters to fight, bar those that go by the name of Man. If they are the gods, the titans remain sleeping, unhearing of any cry towards the heavens, or the sound of any instrument. Their ears remain closed, and their eyes remain averted – perhaps they are unaware. Or perhaps they are absent by virtue of their shame.

Whose side, I ask, does the power lie on? It matters not, for another battle has begun. Red and green. Sword and shield. King and dragon both absent, but what now do they fight for? One does not serve a mistress of evil. One does not seek to save the other. One is now no leader, one is now no legend. All that remains is the battle. The clash of bone and sinew, and little else. What, I wonder, goes through their minds, as they draw their power from a broken source, forever shattered by their deprivations?

Whatever lies within their hearts and minds, it matters not.

It's morphin' time.

A/N

So, I'll be honest, don't have much hype for the upcoming Battle for the Grid game. Granted, I'm not much of a fighting games fan anyway, but combined with the apparent short development cycle and lack of fanfare before release...yeah.

Still, drabbled this up.