Voltron; Heads Up, Gorgeous.

Have you ever felt the steady, heavy-spirited drumroll of a soldier's march? It bleeds, rumbling, into the very bones of the ground and presses into your bootheels at each pace, drowning out each and every wandering thought with an insistent beating akin to one's heart. It is unflinching; unwavering; unfaltering; and, even before the ominous certainty of impending suffering, it does not yield. It is the persistent single-mindedness of iron will, and yet in the same moment the hollow echo of many thousands of men across many centuries who have died long before it was their time. What symphony, what percussion, more resolute than that of soldiers' weary feet?

A hero. A soldier. A girl. Heads up Vega, the world is changing.